Or it’s a punishment. I wasn’t listening when my father explained.”
“Explains more than it doesn’t,” Isabelle mumbled. She sat back on her bed and pulled a leather-bound journal into her lap. The pages were thick with dog-ears and oil paint stains. “How do you know so much about court?”
“My family’s fortune is from timber, and you know how it is, the only way to advance is to marry up or kill someone important.” Coline picked at her nails. “There is a chance I was part of the group who attempted to free Segance from His Majesty’s purview, and sending me here was a way to limit the rumors of my involvement with Madame Royale’s attempted revolt with Laurel.”
“She did what?” I asked. The little news Vaser got of His Majesty’s only child was the priest asking us to pray for Madame Royale Nicole du Rand since she was misguided and going against the current. “Last I heard, she had promised to let Laurel and folks have seats at court.”
“Their own ruling body. My aunt called it atrocious,” Isabelle said. “She was trying to set it up with Laurel when her father caught her.”
“A guard tipped off her father, who had most of those involved with the attempted revolt killed.” Coline shrugged, teeth clenched. “She challenged her father to a duel, he refused, and she got locked away in Serre. It cost me an unimaginable amount to get the story from the guard who betrayed her, but it was worth it. Laurel found him soon after anyway and decided playing nicely was over.”
Isabelle rolled her lips together. “Why would you pay for that story?”
“Because information is the only honest currency,” said Coline. “I grew up in Segance. Many of those arrested and killed were my friends, and you cannot deny that something is very wrong in Demeine.”
“I didn’t know any of that,” I muttered. “I’m like a baby.”
Coline laughed. “People love babies, so I’m sure you’ll be fine. What sort of trouble did you get into?”
“I wanted to be a physician and study the noonday arts.” Emilie had left me with so little, it’d be a miracle if I weren’t caught by breakfast. “At least here, I still get to study.”
“A physician?” said Coline, but she smiled and it was kind…ish. “That’s very untraditional.”
I snorted. “I’m not a traditional student.”
“None of us are, my pearl.” Coline smiled and sat up. “We’re about to meet dozens of traditional students from traditional families, noble and wealthy, and Vivienne and her staff are going to teach us how to run an estate, divine the weather, and hold political conversations without being too passionate. There’s nothing wrong with any of that, but is it what any of us want?”
I swallowed. I wouldn’t mind—the money that came with being a lady of standing could fix most things.
“I want to be a governess,” Isabelle said quickly. “I like teaching, but I got removed from my last school.”
Coline turned slowly to her, eyes wide. “What on earth could you have done to deserve that?”
“My aunt says I’m too petty.” Isabelle blushed, sketching in her journal with a nub of charcoal. “One of the other students said something rude about hacks, and my brother’s a hack, so I dyed her hair green. They said I would never be a governess with that sort of behavior, but Vivienne said I’m not hopeless, just rash and passionate.” Her shoulders slumped. “I had to take out a loan to attend, though.”
“And here we all thought I was the most interesting,” Coline said to me. “Isabelle, I will pay you however much you want to help me out of this dress so long as you save me from drowning in wool.”
Isabelle laughed again, and I stood to inspect the trunk at the foot of the middle bed. It had to be Emilie’s. The wood was carved with delicate little sea stars and distant ships on ocean waves that must’ve been her home in Côte Verte. Coline let out a loud, unnecessary sigh.
“Thank the Lord.” She gestured for Isabelle to help her. “I was trying to be nice, but we must get you into a dress and—” She eyed me, fingers picking at the seams of her dress. “That actually fits?”
“I don’t really like wearing things like this, so most of the measurements were old.” I flushed. “Is it that bad?”
“Yes,” Coline said. “It is.”
Isabelle grabbed the collar of Coline’s dress. “I don’t think you can tell a comtesse that.”
“She doesn’t care, do you?”