The man staring back at me in the mirror was a stranger. Shaved and clean cut now, but a stranger nonetheless. Back in my old rooms, the differences between me and who I'd once been stood out more starkly than they had before. It smelled like home, but it didn't feel like home. Not anymore. Not when these rooms felt massive and empty and cold. Not when I wished for a tiny bed in a tiny room with shingles that slipped off the roof.
Giles had provided me with new clothes—or, old ones I'd left behind, really—and the moment he stepped out, I hastily dug through the deepest part of my armoire drawers for a stack of letters. Letters I'd hidden and held onto, ones that had broken my heart over and over again. I didn't hesitate when I flung them into the fire, watching her perfect handwriting shrivel into ash.
"Goodness, what's all that?"
I whirled around to find Anne hovering in my doorway, dressed and coiffed like a proper young lady and not looking as miserable about it as she usually used to, before I'd left.
"Kindling," I replied, folding my arms and blocking her from the grate.
Anne fixed me with a look. "I'm not a fool, Tom. They're letters, aren't they?"
"They might've been. But now they're kindling."
She sighed and rolled her eyes, taking a seat in my armchair. "Will you please put a shirt on? I came to talk to my brother, not some shirtless pirate."
"Perhaps I'm trying to start a new trend," I said, turning to admire myself in the full-length mirror. But all I could see now was my mangled ear, stark against my freshly cut, still-damp hair. The sight of it—the memories of it—twisted sharply in my chest.
"Adelaide won't care about your new physique, you know. She—"
I whirled around so quickly that I forgot to stop from baring my teeth.
"What?" Anne bleated, jerking back in her seat, shocked. Her brows creased. "I thought—"
"Never speak her name to me again," I said, unable to stop my voice from coming out like a growl.
Anne's mouth clamped shut, but her eyes slid to the letter smouldering in the fire. Her voice was tiny when she asked, "Tom...what's happened?"
I scraped a hand through my hair, then realized I was pacing and stopped. Calm. I had to be calm. If I couldn't handle the sound of her name on my sister's lips, how was I supposed to handle her in the flesh? Grinding my teeth, I seized the shirt Giles had laid out and thrust my arms into it. It was too snug when I did the buttons, and when I reached for the waistcoat, the seam along the back of my shoulder popped with an audible rip.
Anne let out a huff that might've been a giggle, but her brows were still pinched with worry. "Well that won't do," she said.
I yanked off the torn shirt, squeezing the collar between my fingers to resist the urge to fling it across the room. This was all so pointless. This ball, these clothes, these courtly games. My stomach clenched, tight with nerves and dread and impatience. I needed to be concocting a plan. I needed to be sailing back for Ardalone. I needed to be doing something.
"Perhaps James will have something that will fit," Anne said delicately, before she slipped back out of the room.
The crackling fire filled the silence. I finally tossed the shirt away and flung open the windows, forgetting that the night breeze here in Pretania would be frigid and not pleasant. But the cool air's bite was a welcome relief against my spiralling thoughts.
Calm. I needed to be calm. I scrubbed my face with my hands as if I could somehow scrub the dread-inducing thoughts from my head.
I couldn't. No amount of pacing or cold air or face-scrubbing could stop me from obsessing over Dulciana's bargain and the minutes ticking away on the grandfather clock in the corner. I had to deliver her an army if I wanted to save Beatriz. An army she would use to decimate Frederico. If I complied, Beatriz would never forgive me. But I couldn't let her die. I wouldn't.
I hadn't realized I was pacing again until Andrew cleared his throat from the doorway.
"I was planning on making some arch comment about your lack of a shirt," he began, his eyes tight with worry, "But it seems something's the matter."
I deflated, collapsing into the chair Anne had vacated to hold my head in my hands.
"Thomas?" Andrew prompted, concern in both his tone and his footsteps as he crossed to me.
"She's a damned genius," I muttered into my hands, unable to shake the haunting sight of Armando's sword against Beatriz' neck.
"Who?" Andrew asked slowly, taking a seat across from me on the loveseat.
"The woman who killed her own father for a throne. Who's been six steps ahead of me this entire time. Andy, I need..."
I trailed off when Andrew's eyes darted over my shoulder. My stomach clenched again and I whirled around, dreading my father's steely gaze.
Thankfully, it wasn't father.
"I've come at a bad time," Libby said, fidgeting in her fine, aubergine dress.
I sagged back in my chair and pinched the bridge of my nose, but the relief that it wasn't my father, come to witness me fraying at the edges, did nothing to temper my growing agitation. "At last, your observational skills have improved," I said.
Andrew sighed, fixing me with a look. Libby's skirts rustled in the doorway.
"Stay, love," Andrew said, patting the spot on the loveseat beside him.
"I don't think I'm welc—" Libby began, more than a hint of fire in her voice. I'd annoyed her, but I found I didn't care. I had more important things to worry about.
"Stay, sister dearest." I said, waving a hand as I scraped my face with the other. "What's one more witness to my unravelling?"
"What's going on?" Andrew demanded, wrapping a reassuring arm around Libby when she took a hesitant seat beside him.
Wonderful. I'd worried them both. I groaned. So much for being calm and logical.
"She has her," I said finally, hating how rough my voice came out.
"Who has who?" Andrew pressed, leaning towards me.
"Dulciana has Beatriz," I said, finally pulling my hands from my face. A weight that felt dreadfully like defeat settled on my shoulders. Saying it aloud made it so much worse. So much more real.
"Beatriz...as in, the twin?" Libby hazarded tentatively.
"Yes, darling, you were right," I said, "I fell in love with her. And now her sister is going to kill her if I don't secure troops to annhilate Frederico's rebels."
Andrew's eyebrows hopped with surprise, but gratitude tightened in my chest when his gaze turned inward, already calculating, already mapping out the odds and formulating a plan. Libby's face, however, brightened at my mention of falling in love, before she glanced over at Andrew, then schooled her expression into something neutral.
I barked a harsh huff of a laugh. "Look at you, scraping the emotions from your face. Bravo, you're learning."
"I heard someone's grown too big for his britches," came a jovial voice from the doorway.
Thankfully, my back was turned, which gave me the time I needed to school my own face into neutrality as James Amberly sauntered in, with Anne on his heels.
"I'm sorry, I tried to just take a shirt but he insisted," she said, reaching for the shirt that James held up, high out of her reach.
"I thought Anne was exaggerating, so I had to see for myself. Has my apprentice finally become a master?" James asked, grinning, until he read the room. His face fell alongside his arm. "Well now, this wasn't the joyful reunion I was expecting."
I unfurled myself from the chair and extended a hand. "Ogle all you like, but I'll be needing that shirt now, before Libby decides it's me she'd like to marry and not Andy dearest."
"I'm getting quite tired of that joke," Libby said from behind me.
James' eyebrows hopped when his eyes landed on my chest, and relinquished his shirt. "I see Anne wasn't exaggerating at all." His eyes lifted to mine. "Welcome home, Tom."
"Cheers," I replied, waving his shirt at him before I slid into it. Thankfully, the buttons didn't strain on this one. "But don't think that loaning me a shirt is going to stop me from demanding to know what, exactly, is going on between you two." I fixed both James and Anne with my best, most insufferable knowing grin.
Anne blushed bright crimson and folded her arms. "Get dressed, will you? The ball's about to begin."
"Ah," I said, drawing it out, "So you can pry into my love life but I can't pry—"
With an angry huff, Anne whirled and fled. James at least had the good grace to look uncomfortable, before he followed her out, calling after her.
It was only after they'd left that I realized I'd just chased away my only distraction from my plotting brother and his worried fiancée. Tugging on my waistcoat, I sighed.
"I suppose—" I began at the same time as Andrew said, "Tell me—" and Libby blurted, "Did you really—"
"Yes, I really did fall in love," I said, with a rueful smile for Libby, then for Andrew, I said, "I'll gladly tell you everything, but you need to know that Dulciana has people in the palace." I glanced at the fire, where the letters had now crumbled into nothing but ash. "People who are closer to us than I'd like."
Libby bounced in her seat, clearly brimming with questions, but Andrew laid a tempering hand on her arm. He sighed. "So you're home, but you're not done with Ardalone, are you?"
"Not in the least," I replied. "Which is why I need your help—"
A knock rapped through the silence and the door flew open to reveal my mother. "You've barely been home for a day and already you're harassing your sister?"
"Harassing? Hardly," I said matter-of-factly, pulling on my jacket. "But I don't see a ring around her finger, so I suppose it's up to me to question James' intentions after he spent two seasons mooning after Ella Canterbury. I take it you're here to scold me for being late as well?"
Mother pressed her lips together, but the relief that had washed over her face earlier still hadn't left her eyes. "I'd nearly forgotten how dearly you enjoy stirring up trouble."
Burying all my turmoil, I offered her my most dashing grin. "But you missed it, didn't you?"
"With every ounce of my heart." She smiled and extended her hand. "Come, I'd like you to escort me in behind your father, and the longer we keep them all waiting, the hungrier they'll be for your attention."
I swallowed the lump that had climbed into my throat and straightened my cravat as Andrew helped Libby rise. Mother's fingers were warm as they slid into the crook of my arm.
But they weren't nearly as bracing as I needed them to be. Not when the court awaited me. Not when she awaited me.
**A/N: Here we goooo, time for another ball scene! Sorry this one was later than usual, it's getting so hard to keep track of the days when every day feels the same. I hope you're all staying healthy and safe!
And as always, if you enjoyed it, please take a moment to vote and comment :)**