Curse of the Wolf King - Tessonja Odette Page 0,12

I follow his unspoken order. Then, without a word, he leaves the parlor.

I squeeze the arms of my chair, my body quaking with restrained rage as I listen for the sound of his slow, retreating footsteps. Only when I can no longer hear their echo do I meet my sister’s gaze. Nina immediately bursts out laughing as if it were nothing more than an entertaining show. “I’m surprised you lasted as long as you did,” she says. “That must be a record. What was that…thirty seconds of good behavior?”

I shake my head, unable to match her mirth. Closing my eyes, I release a heavy sigh that barely reduces the tension built up in every muscle, but I breathe steadily until I manage to cool down some. When I open my eyes, I feel empty. Worn. Tired. Shoulders slumped, I’m about to retrieve my newspaper when Susan enters the room with a tray of letters. “The post has arrived,” the maid says.

A rush of hope surges through me, just enough to push my exhaustion away, and I leap to my feet.

“Is there anything from Marnie?” Nina asks, hard on my heels as we race to Susan.

“I doubt it,” I mutter as I reach the tray first and gather up the envelopes. Our eldest sister remained in Bretton with her husband when we moved and has yet to send us a single correspondence since. After our last conversation, I can’t say I’m eager to hear from her ever again. I can still remember every word she said to me that day.

You brought this on yourself, Gemma.

Can you really blame him?

There’s no use crying over something you caused.

Well, of course they’re saying that about you! It’s true.

I shake the memories away and begin to shuffle through the stack.

“They’re all for Father,” Nina says with a huff.

She’s right. I’m almost at the bottom of the stack, and so far—

My heart leaps into my throat. There, scrawled over the last envelope, is my name. My name. With trembling fingers, I tear it open and retrieve the letter inside. I read the words once. Twice. Then a third time.

“What is it?” Nina says, brow furrowed.

It’s finally here. My hope hasn’t been futile after all. And while this isn’t anything close to a guarantee, it’s a step forward. My first shot at freedom. My first opportunity to be the person I want to be. Just me. Alone. Free.

I meet my sister’s eyes with tears brimming in my own. “I’ve been invited for an interview!”

5

“An interview!” Nina echoes my words, and I’m forced to hush her. She lowers her voice to a whisper, eyes flashing toward the doorway where Father left moments ago. “You mean, for a job?”

“Of course,” I whisper back, voice quavering. I can hardly contain the excitement that radiates down each limb, so intense I feel I could faint.

Susan, the only maid of ours whose discretion I can depend on, matches our volume and takes a step closer. “Would you like me to send back a response?”

“Yes, at once,” I say, rushing to the bureau, my skirts swishing around my ankles. With hasty motions, I grab paper and pen and write my reply, affirming that I accept the invitation to interview.

Nina reads it over my shoulder. “But it’s tomorrow,” she says. “That’s so soon.”

“Thank the saints above,” I mutter. I sign my name at the bottom and can hardly bear to let the ink dry before I stuff it into an envelope and copy the return address onto the front. Thirty-three Whitespruce Lane.

“But…but it’s on Whitespruce Lane! And for the position of house steward? Are there even homes on Whitespruce?”

“I’m certainly going to find out.” I seal the envelope and hand it to Susan. “See that this is sent at once, please. And…you know.”

“With discretion,” she says with a nod.

As soon as the maid is out the door, Nina rounds on me, her frown in stark contrast to the smile I wear. “That was a bit impulsive, even for you.”

Her tone threatens to drain my triumph. My lips pull into a frown as I cross my arms. “Excuse me? You know I’ve been seeking a job ever since we arrived. I’m finally invited for an interview, and you think accepting it is…impulsive?”

“There wasn’t even a name with the return address. Do you recall the original posting the job came from? Who you’re meeting? You should have written for more information before accepting.”

I bite my lip, seeing she has a point. “I suppose that would have