“Wow. He sounds like trouble.”
“He is ten kinds of trouble. I can’t stop thinking about him.” I wait for Wraye to tell me that I’m making a huge mistake, but she just smiles as she pushes through the door into the dressmaker’s shop.
The dressmaker assures us that everything’s going to be ready in time and that our outfits will arrive at the house this evening. There wasn’t much point to our visit, but I think Daddy knew that when he suggested I go with Wraye. He wants us to be friends. I think I want to be friends with Wraye again, too.
As we head for home along the wide street, I say to Wraye, “Aren’t you going to tell me to be careful and that I’m being stupid?”
She thinks for a moment, her amber eyes on the leafy branches overhead. “No, I’m not. I told myself over and over that it was impossible that Devrim and I could ever be happy together, and now look where we are.”
“You’re meant to be talking me out of this. I’m throwing myself into a huge mistake. Help me, stepmother.”
Wraye rolls her eyes at the stepmother remark. “Oh, I don’t know about a mistake. Do you have things in common?”
Horses, I suppose. Or perhaps rutting in stables like a couple of goats. “Maybe, but we live in different worlds.”
“I’m a slum girl in a pretty dress. Devrim is a jailbird in a scarlet uniform. I don’t believe any of that class nonsense matters anymore.”
“It matters to Daddy.”
She shrugs. “Bad habits from his old life. He’s gradually losing them. He’s marrying me when a Levanter should never stoop to marrying a Rugova.”
I don’t think that’s much of a stretch. The Rugovas are still one of the First Families, and they’re making it proper by marrying each other. There’s nothing proper about what I’m doing.
“I’m glad you were able to tell me about him,” Wraye says. “I’ve missed talking to you.”
I thought I’d feel like I was talking to an extension of my father, but she’s still the same old Wraye. “Thank you for listening and being my friend again.”
“Aubrey, I’ve always been your friend.”
I look at her and realize how unreasonable I’ve been since I found out about her and Daddy. She’s not taking him away from me, and she’s not abandoning me, either. I’m the one who’s abandoned her, while I’ve thought only about myself. “I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused. I’m happy for you and Daddy. I really am.”
Wraye just smiles. “I never expected you to be okay with it instantly or overnight. I’m grateful you are, though. Devrim and I both love you so much.”
My throat feels thick, suddenly, and my eyes burn. Neither Daddy nor Wraye are going anywhere. I’m not going to be kicked out of the country or be sent away. I’m home.
I want to say I’m fine with her calling her Daddy, too, if it’s the nickname she’s decided to give him. I decide to let that go, though, because it’s something she seems to prefer keeping private.
“What does the future Archduchess Levanter have to say about my predicament?” I say, straightening up and smiling at Wraye through my shimmer of tears.
“As your friend and as the woman who’s marrying your father, I’ll say the exact same thing: duty and class hierarchy aren’t everything. If you want to kiss the stable owner, then kiss the stable owner.”
“Well, that’s easy for you to say, but—hang on. How do you know who I’m talking about?”
Wraye gives me a huge smile. “You mentioned the way his jeans cling to his ass. Cassian Bellerose has the finest ass in Paravel. His picture was in all the papers last week when the story about Onyx broke. He caught my eye right away.”
“He’s certainly eye-catching,” I mutter, gazing at the path ahead and picturing the man who only has to put his hands on me to make me lose all sense of reality. “I wake up in cold sweats worrying that Daddy’s going to find out what I’m doing. He thinks duty and class are everything.”
“Daddy’s slowly changing his mind—I mean, Devrim’s slowly changing his mind.” Wraye blushes and examines her nails.
Dirty little kinksters, as Cassian would say. I didn’t know calling a man “Daddy” was a kink, but maybe being pounded over a wooden bench by a rough man who likes to hear you say dirty things is a kink. If it is, then I have it.
Oh boy, do I have it.The first dressage competition since the revolution is being held on palace grounds the following weekend. It’s an open competition, and Cinnamon and I will be up against anyone who wishes to enter. The papers report that it will be informal, to encourage as many people as possible to take part. In a few weeks, there will be a more stringent competition with entrants from all over Europe, and King Anson will present the prizes. Cinnamon and I will have to do well if we want to earn a place in that competition.