Chapter 70

Kit sat on the stool before her mirror contemplating what had taken place in the library. Avinia and Isla were working on her hair, and Kit tried to sit still, but her mind wasn’t focused, and every once in a while, she’d list to one side or the other and have to be brought back on course like a ship sailing in heavy winds.

She had no doubt Blankka had seen the private moment between herself and Eli. As much as she wanted to reflect on how it had felt to finally kiss him, to have his arms around her, if only for a few moments, her mind kept going back to the conversation she’d overheard in the hallway the day she’d gone to the infirmary to check on Jecob. There were other spiteful comments Blankka had made about Kit’s Choosing as well, how it wasn’t fair that noblewomen had opportunities the lady-in-waiting would never have. Blankka was jealous, and clearly she wanted Eli for herself. Surely, she cared enough about him that she wouldn’t do anything hasty and put him at risk. He had said he would handle her, so Kit took a deep breath and tried to let it go. She had to trust him. What alternative did she have?

“Wherever has Blankka run off to?” Avinia asked as she put yet another pin in Kit’s hair. “This would be so much easier if she were here to lay out your gown.”

“We do need to hurry. The queen will be expecting you shortly. Did Blankka say where she was going?” Isla asked. “We assumed she’d walk back with you.”

Kit considered the question. Yes, she had said why she would be delayed, but it shouldn’t have taken this long. And the request was so unusual. She had thought perhaps Blankka wanted to greet Eli since she had likely missed him, but having seen him with Kit, she had to be angry. Was she still standing in the library, letting him have it?

“Katrinetta? Did she say where she was going?” Avinia asked, her voice louder this time.

“Yes,” Kit replied, snapping out of her thoughts. “She asked to speak to the commander alone.”

“The commander?” Isla echoed, stopping mid-pin. “Eli has returned?”

“Yes. He only arrived a short while ago. I... spoke to him briefly in the library.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Avinia asked. “Did he mention whether or not the farmhand won the vote?”

Kit stared at her own reflection in the mirror, still having trouble focusing on her ladies’ questions when she couldn’t fathom what Blankka could be up to. It took her a moment to reply, “He didn’t say.”

“Why would Blankka need to speak to him?” Isla asked. “That seems a little... odd to me.”

“I agree.” Avinia’s forehead was crinkled in concern; Kit could see it in the mirror.

Perhaps she should confess and let her cousins help her sort this out. Should she be worried? Could Blankka have been gone for so long because she went to the queen? Surely not. Eli said he would handle it—she should let him handle it.

“Katrinetta—I said do you have any idea what she wanted to talk to him about?” Avinia asked.

Kit’s thoughts collided with each other until only the worst possible scenario filled her head. She could imagine Blankka in an audience with her mother, kneeling before her as she told the story—she’d walked by the library and seen Eli ravishing the princess, pressed up against the window. The princess had cried out in fear, begging him to stop. Or would she say that Kit had welcomed it, that she’d been the one tempting him? Would her mother believe the woman? It was the truth, after all....

“Katrinetta?” Avinia asked again.

“Pin faster!” Kit demanded, all of the scenarios shuffling into each other in her mind at one time, telling her none of them could possibly end well for Eli. “I need to go at once. Isla, get my gown. Hurry.”

“But we need you looking your best. You’re to go straight from the audience with the queen to the ball, remember? There’s no dinner, no break....”

Kit was aware of her mother’s plans. Dinner would be served during the ball in order to announce the Representative from Eastbury as early as possible. There was no time for any of this. “Pin faster!” she demanded. “Or leave it be!”

“I cannot send you to your mother with your hair looking like this,” Avinia argued. Half of Kit’s hair was pinned up while the rest still fell past her shoulders. “She’d have your head.”

“It’s not my head I’m worried about!” Kit had never worked on her own hair before, not when it was such an elaborate style, anyway, but she could see what Avinia was doing and she began to try to pin it herself.

“Whatever do you mean?” her cousin asked, her voice starting to shriek a little, the same as Kit’s. “And stop that. You’re only making it worse!” Avinia pushed the princess’s hands away and started taking bigger swaths of Kit’s hair. One side wouldn’t be exactly the same as the other, but she thought it would still look presentable. She could always wear a larger crown.

Isla came over with the gown they’d decided on for the festivities. It was silver with little strands of blue shimmering thread worked through. Kit loved it and thought it would play up her eyes nicely. Right now, she only wished she could somehow get into it while Avinia pinned her hair. She was about to run from the room in the plain gown she’d been wearing all day with part of her hair hanging down her back.

“Did you say something about someone losing their head?” Isla asked.

“Please, just hurry,” Kit pleaded. She couldn’t possibly explain at the moment.

Isla set the dress on the bed and helped Avinia finish with her hair. It looked better than Kit would’ve thought considering the circumstances. The second her dress was unlaced, she was tugging it off and was thankful the shift and other underclothes she was wearing would work with the more formal gown and that it didn’t have a complicated closure. The ladies dropped it over her head carefully. Then, Kit threw her arms in, and Avinia laced her up while Isla helped Kit slip her feet into her shoes. The three inch silver heels would not be ideal for running, but she didn’t care if her feet fell off. She needed to get to her mother before Blankka did. She had no idea what she would say to the queen—but she’d think of something.

Earrings, a necklace, and her crown were hastily tossed on, and then Kit gathered up her skirts and took off for the door.

“Princess, you still have a quarter hour before you’re to arrive! Your mother won’t like it if you’re early!” Avinia shouted, but Kit didn’t pause to explain. She ran as fast as she could in her dress shoes on slick marble, aware that her guards were alarmed and were trailing her, asking her what was the matter. She could stop and answer them or run, and since she felt as if she were sprinting to save the life of one of the people she cared most about in the world, she kept going.

Kit turned the corner and nearly collided with a man carrying a platter of food toward the ballroom. The thought of some sort of sauce landing on her gown didn’t even deter her, and Kit skirted around him, still running as quickly as she could, wishing she’d had enough sense to carry her shoes.

Behind her, Galter barked an order to the other guard. She hadn’t even realized it was him with her until just then. He seemed close to her, such that she should’ve understood what he said, but her head was full of conversations that had yet to take place. What would she say to her mother? What if she was already too late?

The last corner almost took her out. She skidded around it, a stitch in her side making her lose focus, and her shoes went sliding. Kit grabbed ahold of Galter’s shoulder just in time to keep her bottom from making contact with the hard stone floor. He righted her, and Kit took off once more, no longer able to breathe but thinking she could always do that later, when this was all over.

Up ahead of her, Kit could see the guards outside of her mother’s throne room. She was nearly there. Granted, she didn’t have an audience with the queen just yet, but perhaps her mother would let her in anyway. Unless, of course, she was already occupied.

The guards looked alarmed. Obviously, they had never seen Kit sprinting toward them before because she hadn’t ran anywhere at all for as long as she could remember. But as the doors to the throne room opened, Kit came to a screeching halt, her shoes slipping again as she nearly tumbled forward. Galter had her arm to steady her, and her chest heaved, burning with a lack of air. None of it mattered now.

Blankka’s face blanched as she looked up to catch the eyes of the princess.