Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 51855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Mama shakes her head. “The Archduke’s daughter undoubtedly has foreign tastes. We will only wear good, Paravanian gowns of the sort my peers and I debuted in.”
It’s a good line. What she really means is they’re cheap. I forgot that we’re only pretending to be rich. All the First Families had their worldly goods and titles restored weeks ago, but not the Rugovas. Mama’s plan is to get us into Court and find out why.
I check my clunky old phone and see that pictures of the palace renovations have been posted on a news site. On my screen, workmen are repairing the state rooms at the palace, laying new floors for dancing and adorning the plasterwork ceilings with gold leaf. Mama and I were at the broken-down palace five weeks ago, when the Party was driven from power, and King Anson was declared the ruler of Paravel. Mama had tears of happiness pouring down her face. So had a lot of people her age who remembered the old King and Queen. Anyone who wasn’t born then, like me, was caught up in the spectacle, and we cheered as loudly as we could when the chains were cut on the palace gates. We didn’t understand what we were cheering for, though. I’m still not sure.
King Anson stood on one of the high balconies of the palace and addressed the people, telling us that, from now on, we would have hope, safety and freedom. Such a young and handsome king, only thirty-five years old. Mama says he takes after his beautiful mother. I hear he spent his imprisonment locked away on a remote, mountainous estate, and I wonder what he thinks of this new Paravel. How much of the old one he remembers.
The dressmaker stands up and bobs a curtsy to Mama. “Of course, Lady Rugova. Let me go and see about the quantities I have left of the gray silk.”
Mama waits, bolt upright on the sofa, her small black handbag clasped tightly in her lap. I notice that her wedding ring is gone, and a pang of sadness goes through me. She must have sold it to pay for our dresses.
“I could just wear off the rack,” I whisper. “It would be cheaper and probably nicer.”
“We are here,” Mama says, through clenched teeth, “to restore our fortunes. For that, we must uphold the standards of the First Families of the nation. The Rugovas do not wear off the rack to the Court of Paravel.”
“But your wedding ring…”
Mama glances sadly at the empty place on her finger. Then she pinches her lips together, so tightly, they turn white. “You don’t understand how important your debut will be for us.”
What I don’t understand is how she thinks we belong anywhere near the Court, if our lands haven’t been restored. I grew up being told how important my blood was as we ate tinned beans and corned beef off chipped plates. Our house was freezing, and my clothes were threadbare. Most of the time, I didn’t have shoes. I didn’t feel like a lady then, and I don’t feel like one now.
Mama gazes hungrily at the new carpets and fine draperies in the shop. “We suffered for decades for the old King and Queen. The shame of it killed your father. I will have every single penny that’s owed to us from the Crown. Until then, you will do your duty by our family and your poor dead papa.”
“I said I’m going to help. I promised, didn’t I?”
The dressmaker comes back, and she and Mama finalize our gowns. “How much will that be?” Mama asks evenly, though I can see tightness around her mouth. The dressmaker names a sum, and I see from the way Mama’s knuckles clutch her handbag that it’s more than she anticipated. In a brisk tone, she says, “Very good. Have the bill sent around to our address.”
The dressmaker’s eyes flicker with misgiving as she hears the name of the street we’re living on. If Mama were a lesser mortal, she might have hurried to explain that the Rugovas are still waiting to move into their new home. Mama is not lesser anything and stares the dressmaker down.
After a moment, the dressmaker smiles. “Of course. You must give me your new address as soon as you’ve moved.”
Mama nods politely, takes my arm and walks us briskly out onto the street. “Did you notice what I did just now, darling? Never explain yourself to those beneath you.”
My spine prickles uncomfortably. It wasn’t so long ago that we were treated with contempt. Doesn’t she remember what that feels like?
“Are you sure we must attend the Court of Paravel right away?” I gaze into the shopfronts we pass, each one displaying plumed hats, leather shoes and porcelain dinner sets. “Can’t we go back to work and wait until we’ve saved more money?”