seemed too out of breath to reply. She swiped her napkin along her mouth and glared at me. I smiled at her.
My entire body buzzed with an energy I’d never felt before. It spread through me, marrow to blood to flesh, sinister and strong.
I had done that to Malinda. I didn’t know how. But I had.
I stared down at the food on my plate, the blanched meat and potatoes and asparagus tips sprinkled with pepper, and suddenly it all looked luscious.
Beside me, Malinda was surreptitiously flicking food from her lap.
“What are you planning to wear, Eleanore?” asked Sophia.
“What do you care?”
“I don’t, much. I was merely curious. I thought you might like to take a look at my wardrobe to see if something fits.”
“What?” gasped Mittie and Lillian together, perfectly timed.
Sophia shrugged. “Well, why not? She’s going to represent Iverson. Our class more than the rest. I’d rather she make a better impression on His Grace than not.”
Beatrice laughed uncertainly.
“Why don’t you come by my room after supper?” Sophia was ignoring all the other girls to hold me in her flat gaze. “And we’ll see what’s what.”
“All right,” I said, lifting my chin. My newfound power buzzed through my veins like caffeine, like potent gin.
Let her try to humiliate me with an ugly frock. Let her try.
“Splendid.” She looked away once more and took a bite of the leathery steak, chewing and chewing and chewing.
• • •
I had not ventured into the section of the castle that housed the other students. I knew that they had their own wing and that it was adjacent to my tower. Sometimes late at night, when the wind stilled, I heard their whisperings, secret confidences exchanged. Sometimes when I looked down the connecting corridor, I saw the dull orangey glow of their lamps shining beneath door slits or silhouettes of girls slipping from room to room in their robes.
But I’d not been invited into that realm, so I had not gone.
Sophia walked ahead of me without looking back once, obviously certain I’d do nothing but follow. It was what all her other acolytes did.
They marched behind us in a clot of purple skirts and disbelieving head shakes.
Every door in this hallway looked alike to me, white paint with sharp black trim. I wondered if the other girls had to count them just to remember which one was their own.
I suppose it was inevitable that I would enter one sooner or later. It was actually surprising that none of my classmates had thought to torment me this way before tonight.
I might have been a princess in a tower, but Lady Sophia was an empress in a palace, one complete with a fireplace, fancy paintings, and a rug of lavender posies on cream so thick I sank with every step. All the furniture was rosewood, slick with wax. The windows had been hung with sheer, billowing curtains—bridal lace, just like in Mrs. Westcliffe’s office.
My only consolation was that there were two beds in this room, not one, each pushed against a wall. So at least the empress had to share.
Mittie went and flopped across the far one, eyeing me with outright hostility. She looked like an angry pug ready to mark its territory.
The other girls positioned themselves silently along various settees and chairs. No one sat near Mittie.
“Let’s see,” said Sophia calmly, still ignoring everyone but me. “I’d say we’re nearly the same size. If you’re a tad smaller, it won’t matter. Everything this season drapes so loose. I have a few things that might do.”
She opened an armoire so huge it reached nearly to the ceiling. I glimpsed the same white and plum uniforms that hung in mine. She pushed those aside on the rod ruthlessly with one hand.
“Here. And here. Perhaps this. This … this …”
Colors began to spill forth, delicate creations of taffeta and organdy, serge and chiffon, pitched to the unoccupied bed like dirty rags, a few slithering to the floor. I remained near the doorway as she worked. I was waiting for the punch line of her jest.
“Tea with His Grace, but not Sunday tea,” Sophia mused aloud, examining the pile of frocks. “So … I think not anything too bright.” She plucked free two of the gowns, handing them off to Lillian nearby. “And nothing too long.” Another gown gone.
Her fingers traced the sheen of a blue satin tunic. “Too bold for an introduction to a duke? What do you think, Caro?”