by Diana Paz
“It was common back then—I mean, now—for extremely wealthy colonial families to send their daughters to tour Europe. It completed their cultural education. Considering neither of you speak French, it was the best I could come up with.”
Kaitlyn shrugged a single shoulder. “Good thing one of us is a nerd.” She turned her piercing gaze on Julia. “That doctor said she might never wake up.”
Tears sprang to Angie’s eyes. “Wake up, Julia. Please.” She swallowed and whispered, “Restore,” for what felt like the thousandth time. Magic spread out from her palms in gentle waves. She rubbed her friend’s arm, smoothing the soft skin of Julia’s mark. The intertwining swirls and symbols encircled a flaming sun. It glimmered faintly.
Angie glanced up at Kaitlyn’s emotionless face. Now that they were both rested, maybe they could heal Julia properly. “Give me your hand. We need to be connected.”
Kaitlyn let out an irritated sigh.
Even Kaitlyn couldn’t be that heartless. The Fates had chosen her for a reason, hadn’t they?
“Fine.” Kaitlyn took Angie’s outstretched hand.
Angie’s breath caught at the warmth that coursed through her body. She sent Julia some of the magic building inside her. The mark on Julia’s arm glittered, the swirls shifting and moving. “Wake up,” she whispered.
Julia’s eyes moved behind her lids.
“Send her a little more magic,” Angie said. “But try not to overwhelm her.”
Julia groaned. Her eyes became two red-rimmed slits. “Angie?” she croaked.
Angie exhaled. “She’s okay.”
“You think?” Kaitlyn asked. “She looks like a corpse to me.”
“You,” Julia whispered, her eyes sliding to Kaitlyn, “suck.”
“Stop,” Angie said, before Kaitlyn could unleash her fury. She tucked the blankets up around Julia, who curled into a ball with a vague grumble about hating exercise. “She needs rest.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” Kaitlyn said, stomping across the room. “She also needs a facial and a deep conditioning treatment. Whatever. I’m ready to figure out why the hell we’re here in fairy tale land.” She riffled through a box on a delicate vanity table. “I just don’t get it. That Ethan guy is supposed to be our guardian, and so far he’s sucking at it. Not to mention the portal. How do we find it and get back to our lives so we can really use the magic?”
Angie swallowed thickly. “You shouldn’t look through other people’s things.”
“Whatever!”
A light tapping sounded at the door and Kaitlyn jumped. She shut the box with a snap as four ladies and two servants entered the room. Angie recognized one from the barge. She was very young, with dark, lustrous hair and matching eyes. Her gown was the kind Angie had only seen in her favorite movies, with a patterned silk bodice and scalloped skirts held up by clusters of rosebuds.
“Maria Teresa Luisa, la Princesse de Lamballe,” one of the women announced.
Angie’s lips parted. She rose slowly from the bed, studying the dark-haired girl’s face. She had a fine-boned nose and slightly pursed lips. Her large, melancholy eyes only pretended at indifference, for there was marked curiosity behind her gaze.
Angie knew the Princess of Lamballe had been one of Marie Antoinette’s closest friends. She was a widow, and in many ways the opposite to the future queen’s buoyant, radiant personality. All of this sped through Angie’s mind as she approached the young woman, trying to recall what she knew of the strict rules of decorum in the French royal court. Hopefully her story of being from colonial England would excuse the offenses they were sure to make. “Kaitlyn. Curtsy,” she whispered, sinking low to the ground.
Kaitlyn laughed. “What are you—”
Angie grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her down beside her. “And keep your eyes down.”
“Mademoiselles,” the princess began, “Madame la Dauphine est tres desolee pour votre cousine.”
Marie Antoinette ... concerned about Julia? Angie shut her eyes briefly and summoned her magic. “Comprehend,” she whispered, casting the spell that helped her understand the princess’s French more clearly. Despite studying it at school, the dialect was so different. She had to be sure of what she was hearing.
The Princess of Lamballe continued, “Madame la Dauphine has dispatched soldiers to search for the rogues who overtook your carriage. She would be honored to offer you the hospitality of Tuileries Palace for as long as you have need. The royal doctors will be returning within the hour, and Madame la Dauphine desires you to want for nothing while in her care.”
“Thank you,” Angie replied in French, hardly believing her ears. The Dauphiness of France, future Queen Marie Antoinette, was offering to help them? Images flashed through her mind, cold as steel. Marie Antoinette died—or would die in the not too distant future. Was Marie Antoinette’s fate sealed?
“Get with it,” Kaitlyn said in an angry whisper. “You’re acting weird.”
Angie snapped out of her reverie, focusing on the Princess of Lamballe’s interested gaze. Angie cleared her throat. “We can never repay the Dauphiness for this kindness.”
The princess moved closer, her eyes never leaving Angie’s. “Madame la Dauphine is renowned for her compassion and generosity. No case of unfortunate circumstances can reach her ears without her offering to help.”
“Of course,” Angie said, curious about the truth of France’s most notorious queen. History’s opinion of Marie Antoinette varied widely depending on the book she read. One author told the story of an orphaned child adopted by Marie Antoinette, his extended family placed under royal protection, his sisters given dowries. Another focused on the queen’s immaturity and out of control spending. Angie recalled the hundreds of courtiers and servants they had passed as they entered the palace—and this was only Tuileries. Versailles had thousands in residence. How much power would Marie Antoinette have, even as queen, over a system that had been in place for centuries before her arrival?
“These gowns are for your use,” the princess stated as a pair of servants placed bundles on the lion-footed chair. “It was courageous of you to jump into the river to save your honor. How did you plan such an escape?”
“I hardly remember,” Angie said evenly. “It happened so quickly.” She swallowed. If she caught so much as a hint of doubt from the princess, she would have to act. There was a spell that could help her. She hoped she wouldn’t have to use it.
“Extraordinary,” the princess said, walking with silent steps across the carpeted floor until she reached the edge of Julia’s bed. “You were on your way to Paris, were you not? You desired a glimpse of Madame la Dauphine on her Parisian debut?”
Angie didn’t shift her weight under the princess’s direct gaze. “Yes. Exactly so.”
The princess didn’t hide her smile. The sight caused a breath of relief to leave Angie’s lungs. She didn’t want to use Persuasion against the princess. The spell could convince someone to believe a falsehood for a while, and Angie had never cast it. It felt wrong on every level. If it meant allowing them to fulfill their mission and remain at the palace, she would do it. Finding the portals and stopping the creatures mattered more than anything.
“You are fortunate to have arrived in Paris in time for Marie Antoinette’s first official appearance. All of Paris has come in her honor. How adored she is. How the people crowd around her.” The princess’s cheeks became rose petal pink. She looked almost like a normal girl. Someone about to share exciting news ... like Julia right before prom. “She is so beautiful. So charming. No queen will be better loved than my mistress.”
Or more despised. Angie kept her face carefully neutral. “I am sure it will be as your highness says.”
Julia moved restlessly in bed.
It was as if the princess suddenly remembered where she was. The sophistication returned to her like a cloak settling on her shoulders. Once again, the princess was a woman who believed in her own importance. She strode to the door, pausing
in the carved doorframe like the centerpiece on a flowery birthday cake.
“Shall I send parchment for you to write a letter to your family, or have you need of a scribe?”
“Parchment, thank you,” Angie said. It was common enough for a woman not to be literate in these times. At least being able to write was more proof to the lie about being born of a wealthy colonial family.
“Very well. You may give the footman the street to which it should be delivered. I shall leave you now. Sophie and Claudette will help you dress and attend to your needs.”
As soon as the Princess of Lamballe left the room Julia opened her eyes. “Wow, Angie, your French is awesome.”
Kaitlyn flopped onto the bed. “You’ve been awake this whole time?”
Angie rushed to Julia’s side, too happy to think about the startled maids. Julia looked so well! She could have screamed with relief, or let out deep belly laughs of sheer joy. Instead, she took Julia’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Me too.” Julia smiled and scooted up on her elbows, brushing the frizzy waves of hair from her face. “All that time spent hot rolling my hair, all for nothing.”
Kaitlyn lifted a brow. “You’re the magical genius who sent us into the river.”
“Really? After I almost died?”
Angie came between them, desperate to head off another argument. “If I understood the princess correctly, today is the day of Marie Antoinette’s Parisian debut.”
Julia and Kaitlyn stared at her. “So?”
“So that means it’s July 8th, 1773. Marie Antoinette is still alive.”
Kaitlyn rolled her eyes and walked over to the gowns on the chair. “You think the Fates sent us to save her? We’re supposed to change the course of history or whatever?”
“No way,” Julia said. “That’s not how it works in movies.”
“Not a chance,” Kaitlyn agreed.
“I suppose not,” Angie said softly. “I guess we just focus on sealing the portals.”
Julia lay back on her pillows and stared at the canopy above her. “I think there’s something else.”
Angie felt her forehead tense up.
“Is someone going to help me into this thing?” Kaitlyn asked, reaching for one of the dresses.
Angie glanced at the maids, who recovered from their obvious curiosity and hurried forward. One of the maids took the dress Kaitlyn had picked and set it aside while the other held up a chemise. Kaitlyn eyed them both dubiously.
Angie returned her attention to Julia. “What do you mean?”
Julia shrank into the blankets. “I saw my history book change.”
Angie’s fingers went cold.
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to go all ‘this is my destiny’ crazy and feel forced into being a Daughter.”
Angie couldn’t keep hold of her twisting thoughts. She had chosen the thread of time that seemed the brightest because she had nothing else to go off. What if she had chosen the wrong one? “What was it, Julia? In your history book, what changed?”
“Some lady and her mom,” Julia said. “At first the page said they survived, and then it said they died.”
“Do you remember a name? Dates? Specifics of any kind?”
Julia cast her eyes down. “I should’ve written it down, I guess.”
One of the maids left Kaitlyn’s side and approached Angie, bobbing a curtsy. Angie offered the woman a smile and submitted herself to the long and complicated dressing process, lifting her arms as the woman slipped a chemise over her shift. Unlike the plain, sleeveless shift, this had elbow-length sleeves and a low bodice adorned with lace and small bows.
Her mind sifted through the information she had as she followed the maid’s gentle direction to step into the first of her petticoats. A woman and her daughter who survived the French Revolution ... but who? Absently she began tapping her thigh as she tried to puzzle it out.
The maid had just begun lacing the stays of her corset when a knock came at the door.
“Uno momento, por favor,” Julia called. At Angie’s withering look, Julia added, “Aren’t French and Spanish practically the same thing?”
“Wow. Your accent sucks. You don’t speak Spanish?” Kaitlyn asked, eyeing Julia derisively as a maid tied the final ribbon on her gown. “I thought you were Hispanic.”
“It’s not like being Hispanic means I was born with a Spanish language microchip.”
“I’m only half and I speak it perfectly.” Kaitlyn said, wandering to the vanity table she had been at earlier.
“Probably because you learned it from your maid.”
Angie practically felt the furious energy as Kaitlyn spun around in a whirl of ruffled petticoats and lace. “That’s so racist.”
“Like it’s not true.”
“Julia,” Angie admonished.
Bright red spots stained Kaitlyn’s cheeks. She said nothing, her chest rising and falling rapidly against the delicate frills of her bodice.
The knocking came again. Angie clenched her fingers into her petticoats, but the maid, Sophie, murmured for her to lift her arms again. “Guys, please stop.” She waited as they stared at each other like they were plotting each other’s slow deaths. “Julia?”
Julia expelled a breath and looked away first. Kaitlyn smiled with triumph.
“S’il vous plaît,” Angie said to Claudette, the second maid, “would you be so kind as to ask the person at the door to wait a few moments?”
Claudette bobbed a curtsy, briefly opening the door a crack to speak softly to the visitor. Sophie finished adjusting Angie’s panniers and helped her into an enormous cream-colored gown with a pale blue underlay and lace-trimmed hem. The skirt was gathered in soft scallops of periwinkle satin, with large bows affixed at each crest of fabric. Sophie tied a powder blue ribbon along the low-cut ruffles that made up the bodice before tucking a length of cream lace along Angie’s shoulders to drape over the back. Finally, Sophie took a step back and curtsied. Angie resisted the urge to swish her skirts. She nodded to Claudette, who opened the door with her gaze carefully averted.
A footman entered and handed Claudette a tray holding sheets of vellum, an ink pot, and a quill pen.
“He’s cute,” Kaitlyn said, her smile still lingering on her lips as she practically undressed the man with her eyes. The footman held her gaze before bowing politely and backing into the hallway.
“What’s that for?” Julia asked.
“I asked for paper to let our family know where we are,” Angie said, sitting at the vanity table to write. “We’re supposed to seem worried and scared.”
Kaitlyn smirked. “What will we tell the old-timey people when our ‘family’ doesn’t show up?”
“I don’t know,” Angie said, scribbling out a meaningless letter. “Maybe we should try using your gift of Sight.”
“Finding some guys to party with would be more fun.”
Angie blotched ink all over the parchment. Could Kaitlyn think of nothing else?
“We can do the Fate stuff after,” Kaitlyn continued. “I’m ready for some fun.”
“No way,” Angie said, not liking the look on Kaitlyn’s face at all. She handed the waiting footman her letter, dismissing the maids as well, since Julia still looked too pale to dress. When they were gone she turned to face Kaitlyn. “This isn’t a game.”
“Good thing, because it’s boring as hell.” She headed for the door, glancing over her shoulder as she opened it. Her green eyes gleamed. “I’m in Paris. It’s time to have fun.”
“But you can’t just—”
“Yes I can. I’m tired of all this saving people BS. That guy was hot, and I’ve heard French guys are good kissers.” A grin slid across her lips. “Maybe they’re good at other things, too.”
Chapter 14
Julia
Julia glared at the closed door. She was not surprised that Kaitlyn wanted to skank her way through the ages.
“We have to go after Kaitl
yn,” Angie said, rushing to the door.
“And do what? Order her back to the room?” Julia asked. “Just let her go.”
“Don’t you see? Those weren’t regular birds that knocked us out of the sky. Those were Stymphalian birds. And mer creatures attacked us in the river. If the creatures are trying this hard to keep us away, the portal must be nearby.”
“If we shut the portal, we can stop the creatures,” Julia said, tossing back the blankets. “We’ll have accomplished the task, right?”
“Right, but we can’t do it without Kaitlyn, and if she’s out there alone—”
“They could kill her.” Julia jumped out of bed and regretted it instantly. Her vision became a screen of black pinpricks, her body weightless. “Whoa.”
Angie moved toward her. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just a little dizzy.” She tried to take a step but her legs wouldn’t hold her weight and she leaned heavily on Angie. “Damn that stupid Kaitlyn. If she hadn’t practically drowned me when we first fell—”
“You’re all right now. That’s all that matters. But you need rest.” Angie helped her back to bed. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be okay.” She put her head in her hands and took deep breaths. “I’ll catch up with you guys.”
Angie urged her back into the pillows, tucking the covers around her. “That’s a bad idea. We shouldn’t split up.”
“We’re already split up.”
“But if you stay here, at least I’ll know where you are.”
Angie looked so concerned. Julia’s heart squeezed at the sight of her friend’s down-turned mouth. It was clear that Angie had been crying.
“I’ll search the grounds,” Angie continued. “You rest, and don’t go anywhere. If I can’t find Kaitlyn in the palace, I’ll come back for you. Hopefully you’ll be recuperated by then, and we can locate a footman.”
“Enough planning. Go already.”
Angie left without another word and Julia slumped back into the pillow, her eyes heavy. Angie could drive a person crazy with all that organizing. As for Kaitlyn, that girl needed a reality check. Not that Julia wanted anything bad to happen to her, but she couldn’t help the little daydream that crept into her mind ... Kaitlyn sits next to a guy in a garden, and she knows full well that this guy is already promised to another. Her chest spills out of her bodice and the look on her face is practically obscene as she runs her hands over his arms. She shoves the guy down and starts making out with him like a total trollop. Suddenly, guards surround them. Both of them beg for mercy, but punishment is swift and severe. She would be sentenced to a life cleaning pigsties for being a boyfriend-stealing whore, and he would be sent to clean sewers for being stupid enough to fall for her. She smiled, imagining Kaitlyn’s eyes welling with tears as she was carted off to spend the rest of her life without beauty products.