Lady Alma

by A. G. Marshall

  Tía Teresa paced around the tiny room.

  “I could escape if I could dress myself,” I said.

  “That’s too dangerous, Alma. When you become a donna-”

  “No one has to know, and it isn’t illegal until I have a title. Once I make it to Father, he can fix everything.”

  I focused, as Renata had taught me, and moved my soul from my head to my toes and back again. This time I felt a slight shift. Tía Teresa raised an eyebrow.

  “You learned that in one day?”

  “Can you show me how to strengthen it?”

  “Alma, you’ve spent your whole life avoiding magical training. Do you really want to ruin that now?”

  I thought for a moment, trying to sort through my feelings.

  “I need a way to fight back,” I said finally. “She’ll keep me trapped in the house as long as she controls what I wear.”

  Tía Teresa sighed.

  “I hate that woman. You can’t let her see you working magic, Alma. You can’t let anyone see you.”

  “I won’t need to once you’re back in the house.”

  She tried to smile at me.

  “Very well. Soul magic is all about control. Think of a memory that will create emotions and channel those emotions into your loop.”

  I thought of Donna Senona, and my stomach churned. Rage washed over me, and a gust of wind blew through the room and rattled the furniture.

  “Happy memories are easier,” Tía Teresa said. “And try something not quite so strong.”

  I thought of playing in our rose garden with Mirella when we were young. I splashed her with water from the fountain, and we both laughed.

  My soul settled into a steady loop.

  “Well done,” Tía Teresa said. “You have natural talent for magic. I expect Donna Senona knows it.”

  The magic churning through me made me feel alive in a way I never had before. I could sense Tía Teresa’s soul loop as a warm glow across the room. I looked down at my gown. What would it be like to change it with a snap of my fingers?

  “I’m not actually a donna,” I said. “Would it be so bad for me to know magic?”

  “Look at how many Rosas Rojas you got at your first ball,” Tía Teresa said. “You’ll be a donna before you know it. Perhaps more. The prince seemed quite taken with you.”

  I blushed.

  “Prince Lorenzo isn’t interested in me like that, and he can’t marry a commoner. He was just being polite.”

  I hated lying to Tía Teresa, but what else could I say? She grinned at me.

  “If he wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t have asked you to dance twice.”

  “He was just curious about how I got every servant in the castle to talk about me. How did you do that, Tía?”

  “Bribery. It works every time, although I didn’t expect it to work quite so well. I was so proud when I heard you caught the prince’s eye.”

  My soul loop surged as I pictured Lorenzo’s perfect face. I quickly changed the subject.

  “How do I move fabric?”

  “Hija-”

  “Please? I need to dress myself so I can go to Father.”

  “Surely there’s someone at the estate who could help you dress.”

  Renata’s fully bloomed face popped into my head, but I pushed it away and shook my head.

  “I can’t trust anyone there, Tía.”

  Plus, there was something comforting about the magic swirling inside me. I wanted to do something useful with it.

  Tía Teresa pursed her lips.

  “Something small, but that is all, Alma. Don’t let yourself get comfortable with this.”

  I nodded. She placed a sash on the table.

  “Focus is the key. Visualize every step along the way then snap your fingers. Try to wrap this around your waist.”

  I closed my eyes and pictured the sash floating off the table and draping around my waist. I tied it in a bow for good measure. When I was done, I snapped my fingers and opened my eyes.

  The sash rose from the table and floated towards me. Halfway across the room, it shuddered and fell to the floor.

  Tía Teresa raised an eyebrow.

  “That was well done for your first time.”

  I stared at the sash.

  “I did it. I worked fabric magic.”

  It felt, for lack of a better word, magical.

  I fixed my eyes on the sash and gathered my focus to try again. The sash floated slowly off the floor. Then the room shook, and muffled screams echoed through the walls.

  Chapter 15

  “Something is wrong,” Tía Teresa said. “Come with me.”

  We ran through the narrow alley. The screams grew louder, and I smelled smoke. When we reached the marketplace, it was in chaos. The crowd rushed around in confusion. We pushed through until we found Renata screaming my name.

  “Go,” Tía Teresa said.

  “But, Tía-”

  “You need to get home. You know how to find me now.”

  I squeezed her hand and ran to Renata.

  Tullio’s soap stand was on fire. The merchant stood a safe distance away with Renata. He rubbed his bald head and watched melted soap run around splintered wood on the ground.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  Renata grabbed my arm.

  “Alma, where have you been? I was so worried. We need to get you home. Tullio, let me know if there is anything I can do to help.”

  She held her hand out to the soap vendor. He squeezed it once.

  “Go where it is safe, Renata.”

  She pulled me through the marketplace. The crowd’s panic had been replaced with curiosity, and most of the shoppers were pushing towards the soap cart to get a closer look at the fire. Renata pushed them aside with her generous hips and glared at anyone who dared to protest.

  Only one other shopper was moving away from the fire. He wore a dark green cloak. The crowd cleared for a moment, and I saw the embroidered Salarian crest on his back. Golden hair peeked from beneath his hood.

  “Ethan?” I whispered.

  “Excuse me,” someone on horseback said. “What happened over there?”

  I looked up, recognized Don Diego, and ducked behind Renata.

  “There’s been an accident,” she said. “Some kind of explosion.”

  “By the roses! How am I supposed to sell horses with the market in an uproar?”

  “Diego, we should go.”

  I peeked around Renata to see who had spoken. Don Francisco rode through the crowd. His curled beard bounced as he nudged his horse to a trot. Everyone scurried out of the way to avoid being trampled.

  “Yes, Father.”

  Don Diego turned and followed Don Francisco. I pulled Renata into the crowd to escape.

  “Sorry,” I said. “Someone I know.”

  “Does he think curling the horse’s tail will help it sell?”

  We both giggled. The crowd thinned as we left the market. I searched for Ethan, but he was gone. By the time we reached my estate, it was easy to forget that anything was wrong. A bit of melted soap on Renata’s dress was the only trace of the explosion.

  “I need to report this to Mistress Beatrice, so I won’t be able to train you anymore today, Alma. Should I send someone up to help you change?”

  I wanted to tell her there was no need. That I could dress myself.

  But that wasn’t true. I could barely make a soul loop. I nodded to her and wandered back to my room. I was so lost in thought that I bumped into someone in the hallway.

  “Oh, Alma!”

  “Mirella? What are you doing here?”

  “What are you wearing?”

  Mirella’s wide eyes traveled up and down my yellow uniform.

  I pulled her into my room.

  “You can’t tell anyone,” I said. “Not a soul.”

  “Of course not, Alma. What is going on?”

  “Donna Senona is punishing me by having me work as a servant.”

  “For what
happened at the ball? That wasn’t your fault. Your father-”

  “Would be furious, but he’s busy with the Salarians. What are you doing here?”

  “I was looking for you, of course!”

  She pulled a roll of canvas from her sleeve and handed it to me.

  “I commissioned it from the artist who painted Lorenzo for me.”

  I unrolled the canvas and gasped.

  “Your portrait?”

  She nodded.

  “Not strictly legal, of course. Only nobility should be painted. But the artists in the Dark Market don’t care about such things.”

  I stared at the portrait. A version of Mirella stared back at me. The artist hadn’t made as many changes as Alessandro would have, but there were differences. Her eyes were larger and brighter. Her smile was serene instead of mischievous. Her skin glowed golden with health.

  “Beautiful!” I said.

  Mirella beamed.

  “It’s no Alessandro, but I’m pleased with it.”

  I couldn’t help feeling jealous. With Donna Senona watching my every move, there was no way I could sneak to the Dark Market long enough to be painted. If I were noble, I would have had my portrait sitting already. I would have my portrait ready to unveil at my quince.

  Mirella patted my back.

  “You’ll get one,” she said. “I know it. Even if it is after your quince. I got this one later than I should have, but it is still exciting.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  The door opened, and Donna Senona’s seamstress came in.

  “I’m to help you change for lunch,” she said.

  “I’ll be off then,” Mirella said.

  “You’re welcome to stay!”

  The meal would be much less awkward if she stayed.

  Mirella shook her head.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t. My parents want me to stay away from the Salarians, just in case.”

  “Just in case what?”

  Just in case they destroyed a soap cart in the market?

  Mirella shrugged.

  “They worry too much. I’m sorry, Alma.”

  The seamstress cleared her throat. Mirella tucked her portrait back into her sleeve and left the room.

  I watched the seamstress’s movements as she snapped me into a gown. I could sense her soul loop and the energy she used to move my clothes. When she left, I formed my soul loop and snapped my fingers to adjust one of the bows on my gown. It swayed as if caught in a gentle breeze.

  Not exactly useful, but I had moved it. That small act felt rebellious. Forbidden. I had never done anything to risk my future status as a donna before, and now I had worked magic twice in one day.

  I walked slowly to lunch, trying not to look guilty. Many of the servants were accomplished magicians. Would they sense the change?

  No one seemed to. I relaxed a little as I sat and waited for Rosa and Ethan to arrive. The footmen ladled soup into three bowls, and we waited.

  And waited.

  Where were they? I sneaked a spoonful of soup when the footmen weren’t looking. It was rude to eat without all the guests present, but walking to the marketplace and back had made me hungry. Rodrigo noticed me swallowing, winked, and turned the other way. I had finished half my bowl by the time Ethan and Rosa sprinted into the dining room.

  “Sorry we’re late!” Ethan said. “Can I visit your laundry room?”

  I choked on my soup and tried to swallow so I could answer him.

  “Why do you want to see the laundry room?” Rosa asked before I had recovered.

  “I can’t find my cloak. They washed all my things when we arrived. I thought it might still be there.”

  “It isn’t cold enough to need a cloak,” I said.

  “Yes, but I’d like to find it before I leave. The winds are cold on the open sea.”

  I studied his face, searching for a sign that he was lying. If he had destroyed the soap cart, his cloak could be covered with melted soap or other evidence. The laundry apprentices were sure to notice the stains.

  “When did you last have it?” I asked.

  “The night of the ball. A footman took it when he announced me, and I never got it back. I thought they would send it here since it has the Salarian crest embroidered on it.”

  “Maybe one of the other Salarians has it,” Rosa said.

  “It would be too small for any of them.”

  I stared at Ethan, but he looked as innocent as always. Why had they brought someone so young on this important mission? Surely not just because he was the Admiral’s grandson.

  Perhaps because he was an accomplished actor and spy?

  The castle servants were too organized to lose the cloak of a visiting diplomat. I had faith in that. What if he realized he had been seen in the market and was trying to cover his tracks?

  But I couldn’t accuse him. Not while he was a guest. Not without proof.

  Rosa assured him that the laundry would be happy to help find the missing cloak. I took another bite of soup and said nothing.

  Chapter 16

  I checked for the Rosas Rojas under my pillow that night before I went to bed. It was still there, thank goodness.

  Lorenzo waited for me in the ballroom. I smiled at him, feeling shy since I knew I was actually talking to the prince.

  I once again wore my mother’s gown. Perhaps this was part of the Rosas Rojas magic, because Lorenzo wore the same suit he had worn to the ball.

  “Alma,” he said. “I am glad to see you again. I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”

  Movement in the corner of the room caught my eye. I turned to look, but there was nothing there.

  Lorenzo followed my gaze, then turned back to me.

  “Have you discovered anything new? Ethan seems to be enjoying his stay at your house. I invited him to attend negotiations at the castle, but he refused.”

  “Actually, I did see something today. A soap cart exploded in the marketplace, and I saw someone in a cloak with the Salarian crest running away from the cart.”

  Lorenzo raised an eyebrow.

  “I heard about that incident. The guilds were quick to blame the Salarians, but you’re the first person to tell me you actually saw a Salarian in the market.”

  “I saw a Salarian’s cloak and a glimpse of golden hair. I only saw him from the back, so I can’t be certain who it was. But this afternoon, Ethan asked if we could take him to the laundry because his cloak is missing. He said he never got it back from the ball.”

  Lorenzo raised his other eyebrow.

  “Do you believe him?”

  “He seems trustworthy, but it is suspicious.”

  “I feel the same way. The negotiations are going well, but the incident today has everyone on edge. What if the Salarians are distracting us with the treaty while they plan an attack?”

  “Do you think they would?”

  “I have no idea.”

  He studied me for a moment.

  “What were you doing in the market, Alma?”

  I shrugged.

  “Oh, you know.”

  “No, I don’t. I hope you’re not putting yourself in danger to investigate.”

  “I wish it were something that exciting. My stepmother assigned an apprentice to keep an eye on me after the ball. She needed to go to the market, and I went with her.”

  It was close enough to the truth. Lorenzo frowned.

  “Of course, your stepmother must be worried after what happened at the ball. Your father is very concerned that he can’t be home with you.”

  “I’m sure he is happy to be of service.”

  It was the proper thing to say, but the words sounded forced. Lorenzo shook his head.

  “His advice has been more valuable than anyone’s, but I hate to take him away from his family. You were attacked. He just got married.”

  “But you need his help.”

  Lorenzo laughed.

  “Yes, I certainly do! Don Francisco is the only other council member with t
rade experience, and he’s notoriously irresponsible with money.”

  “Does he have a curled beard?”

  “Yes, you can’t miss him.”

  “He was in the marketplace after the explosion. As was his son, Don Diego.”

  Lorenzo smirked.

  “I suppose not even international negotiations can keep Don Francisco from looking for bargains. Thank goodness your father actually knows what he’s talking about. Everyone wants the negotiations to be resolved quickly.”

  “Even the Salarians? You think they really want peace?”

  The prince sighed.

  “Alma, please don’t tell anyone that you saw a Salarian in the market today. That might be enough to send the guilds into a panic.”

  His shoulders slumped. I smiled at him.

  “You’re doing well, and you don’t have to do this alone. We’ll figure it out.”

  “I hope so. Being king is a lot harder than I thought it would be. But enough about that. Let’s enjoy the night.”

  We walked to the balcony and stood under the stars. I squinted at the rose garden. For a moment, I thought I saw someone hiding behind a trellis. Then the moonlight shifted, and the shadow disappeared.

  “How does this spell work?” I asked. “Can we go anywhere we like? Could we go to the rose garden or walk to my house?”

  Lorenzo shook his head.

  “We can go anywhere we went together the night we met. That doesn’t include the rose garden, but there are a few other things we can do.”

  He snapped his fingers. The gem in his ring flashed gold, and his suit changed from black to bright red. I stared at him with wide eyes.

  “You know magic!”

  “Of course not.”

  He snapped his fingers and changed the suit back to black.

  “It isn’t magic, just part of the dream’s illusion. You know real magic is illegal for nobility.”

  “Then it’s a good thing it’s not real and I’m not noble.”

  I visualized my dress as blue and snapped my fingers. It changed. I pictured my quince gown, unfinished in real life, and snapped my fingers again. The dress materialized around me, green with curled ribbons just like Tía Teresa and I had designed.

  Was this what it felt like to be competent with soul magic? To create anything you could imagine with a snap of your fingers?