Illusions of Fate Read Online Free PDF Page B

the other servant quarters’ doors and into her room.
    I see now why she elected to leave it rather than move it herself—it’s nearly as tall as I am and half again as wide.
    “I have no idea what this is.” The box is made of wood so thin it’s nearly translucent, and a red ribbon encircles it, with a cream envelope tucked into the bow. I pull it out—the paper is heavy and thick in my hands. Jessamin Olea is written in elegant strokes.
    “Open it, open it! I have three rooms to finish before midmorning and I cannot handle the suspense!”
    Smiling nervously, I break the seal—an unmarked circle of black wax—and slide out two cards. The first is an invitation to a gala ball celebrating the opening of a new royal conservatory; the date is tomorrow night. I pass it to Ma’ati, shrugging my shoulders. The second is handwritten in the same elegant script from the envelope.
    Please attend as my guest. I must see you again, if only to apologize and explain myself. I cannot banish you from my thoughts and no longer want to. Until then, F.
    I realize only when Ma’ati holds out her hand for the second note that I am covering my mouth, barely breathing. I had not thought to hear from him ever again.
    A rebellious anger stirs in my breast and I set my mouth in a grim smile. I will not attend. He can wait all night. I’ll not do him the honor of playing to his whims, nor will I ever again give him opportunity to unsettle me like he did that night in his room.
    “Open the package!” Ma’ati demands, still eyeing the note I have not yet passed to her. I tuck it into my dressing robe instead, and undo the ribbon. It takes both of us to pry the lid free, but when we do neither of us can find words for what we see.



Five
    I WEAR THE SINGLE MOST BEAUTIFUL DRESS I have ever seen in my life. Set against the brilliant scarlet material, crystals are sewn down the neckline and across the bodice in a dizzying pattern. The skirts hang with a gauzy lightness that feels like a dream on my legs. It’s sleeveless, in the fashionable cut of the season, with a sash over my shoulders.
    “You’ll look like a fire-petal, dancing in that,” Ma’ati whispers, referencing the flowers that bloom in the high heat of summer all over Melei, turning the hillsides into a violent riot of red.
    Spirits take that rotten Finn. I didn’t have the strength in me to say no to this dress. And the shoes, delicate black heels, fit perfectly with the gartered stockings. As though these details were not enough to win me over, a silver hair comb with the same red crystal accents as my dress was included and is now tucked into my twisted bun.
    I am worried bordering on terrified of this evening—so much so that were it not for Ma’ati’s excitement over dressing me I might have called the whole thing off. She even talked Jacky Boy out of needing me in the kitchens tonight.
    “Wait!” Ma’ati runs out of my room and comes back with a small bronze jar in her hand. “Please don’t tell, but one of the guests left this lip rouge in her room, and she never asked for it back.” She dips her finger in and pulls it out, tracing my lips as carefully as an artist.
    “Oh,” she says, her voice like a sigh. “You look like the queen.”
    “The queen is eighty years old.”
    Ma’ati swats my shoulder. “You know what I mean. Like a queen ought to look.”
    “How do you know how to do this? The corsets and the hair and the stockings. I’d have been lost without you.” My regular dresses are sturdy and plain—buying the student uniform cost all my savings, so that’s all I wear. And my hair is a mystery even to myself, but Ma’ati’s deft fingers twisted and pulled it into something of a miracle.
    “I used to be a lady’s maid.”
    “How did she ever let you go?” A lady’s maid would have been a much higher position than head maid of even a fine hotel.
    Ma’ati smiles with one side of her mouth, but there is no happiness there. “The