"I overreacted because of my insecurities," Martinus admitted, and my fork stopped midway to my mouth. Insecure? He? Over me? He continued talking as I stared at him, slowly swallowing. "But I promise this won't happen again. I don't intend to control you; otherwise, I wouldn't have agreed to delay our marriage until you finish the Academy. But I want you to respect me in public."
I chewed on the brisket, sitting on the high kitchen chair, and feeling the air on my feet as I dangled them around. That's right, I don't use shoes at home. It made me feel closer to the house.
"That depends on what you mean by respect," I said, laying the fork aside, my feet drawing circles in the air. "If you mean letting you boss me over, or being deferential to you, then no."
"How about you publicly acknowledge me as your fiancé," Martinus said, "don't curse at me in public, and don't flirt with other men?"
"I've never flirted with anybody but you," I said, "since I came to Marn. As for the cursing, I'm sorry. You deserved it, but I should have left it for a more private occasion."
"Apology accepted," Martinus said, quickly. "And do you accept mine?" He passed me the plate with the apple pie.
"I do," I said, cutting myself a generous slice. "But I'd like to know what you mean by acknowledging you in public. I don't want to be glued to you. I have stuff to do separate from you, you know."
"Come to the Winter Ball with me," Martinus said. "It will be in a month; this will be our first outing as an engaged couple. I'll introduce you to everybody."
"We had that dinner your mother already," I said. "Why go to a ball, too? I don't think I'm good enough at dancing. Captain Kaffale taught me a bit, but…"
"You danced with Aegisthus Kaffale? When?" Martinus asked, swallowing the bait hook, line, and sinker.
"When I was in the safe house. I was bored out of my mind, and I was stuck in that tiny house. He taught me to dance. I'm still rubbish at it, though."
"And you said you didn't flirt with anybody but me," Martinus said, with an accusation in his voice.
"And I didn't," I said. "I just danced with him. I was bored, I told you. I only ever went out shopping once, and I couldn't even eat lunch in peace. Mahalat appeared right when I was eating dessert."
"Were you having lunch with Aegisthus, too?" Martinus asked.
"Yes," I said. "But that was a cover to bait Mahalat. It worked, although they didn't catch him."
"I'd like you to stop 'just dancing' with other men or playing bait by going to dinner with them," Martinus said, firmly. "And I promise you I will do the same."
"You won't go to dinner with other men, you mean?" I teased him, flickering my eyelids.
"With attractive young women," Martinus said. "Alone. I will continue eating lunches with my male friends, and you can continue to go out wherever you want with your female friends."
"I want to have male friends, too," I said. "Mind you, I don't have them at the moment, but I would like to have some, too."
"Just don't go out with men alone," he said. "It's OK if you do it with Yllana. I trust you, but you have to take into account that your reputation depends not on just how I perceive you, but on how others perceive you, too."
"Alright," I said, "I won't. As long as you do the same. We're equal partners."
"That's great," Martinus said. "As for your dancing, you have a month to learn. I'll practice with you. You should be good enough to not embarrass yourself. Because you are coming, right? Dancing with Aegisthus but not with me… That wouldn't be fair, right?"
He didn't forget about the whole ball thing. I hoped playing on his jealousy would make him forget it.
"I've never been to a ball," I said, "and I'm not sure I want to. Will the people there be nice to me? What will they think when I show myself as a total klutz? And I don't have a dress. Nor shoes. And I'm not sure Pops will agree."
"Amy," Martinus said, chuckling, getting off his chair and grabbing my hand, standing in front of me, holding my hand close to his chest. "People will be nice to you. Because you're a Morad and my fiancée. Nobody will dare speak badly about you. I'll teach you enough dancing so nobody will think you're a total klutz. You're rich; you can order a custom-made dress in a day, much less a month. If you want, I will help you choose a dress. And shoes. I'll ask your grandfather to let you go to the ball myself; I'm sure he'll agree."
I sat there with my hand on his chest, as he earnestly looked into my eyes. Then I snapped out of it, snatching my hand out of his hold.
"The food will get cold," I said. "There's no need for you to help with the dress. I'll ask Yllana."
"Does this mean you agree?" Martinus said.
"As long as grandpa does, I guess," I said.
"Great," Martinus said, and then sat quietly as I ate. After sitting like that for five minutes, I kicked him out, sending him to talk to grandpa.
Grandpa agreed to let me go to the Winter Ball. Now I had to improve my dancing skills on top of everything else. It's good I don't sleep.
"It needs to be a light color," Yllana said, "nothing too bright or eye-catching. You're an unmarried woman, after all."
It was Saturday afternoon, and we were sitting in the living room, choosing the design of the dress and the fabric with the seamstress grandpa invited to our house. She brought all kinds of fabrics and showed us many sketches.
"It shouldn't be too revealing, either," Yllana said, setting aside two designs for dresses with open shoulders and deep V-neck with lots of cleavage. And another one with a split skirt. "It has to be traditional. Conservative."
"You're worse than what I thought Martinus would be," I complained, staring at the designs in front of me. They all shared the huge amount of fabric used for them. Why would anybody need so many petticoats? I'd barely gotten used to the one I wore for everyday occasions.
"At least I won't stare at you when they take your measurements," Yllana retorted.
"You're right," I said, staring at the designs. "Can you make this one less bulky?" I asked the seamstress, pointing at the design that seemed most comfortable. "And I will not be using a corset."
That's right. Even though they don't use corsets in everyday life, apparently most women will wear a corset to a ball. To enhance the waist. What's the point, when it's covered by all those layers of fabric, anyway? But I digress.
"No corset?" the seamstress asked and looked at Yllana as if asking for help.
"If you aren't using a corset," Yllana said, "you have to make sure every inch of your skin is covered. You can't do more than one scandalous thing. You'll need to wear gloves."
Gloves are preferable to corsets. How do you even breathe in those damn things?
"Gloves it is, then," I said. "And no corset."
"Alright," the seamstress said, taking notes in her notebook. "Which fabric would you like?"
As Yllana classified the fabrics into decent and indecent ones (I wasn't aware there were indecent fabrics, but then, you learn every day), I could see her enthusiasm.
"You seem to be loving this," I said. "Why don't you come to the Ball, too? I'm sure I could get you an invitation."
"It's not that," Yllana said. "I don't want to go to the Ball; I don't have a companion, anyway. I just enjoy going out of home without my mother. Or my cousins, or some other companion. It's nice to be just with my girlfriend."
I never thought Yllana had such a sheltered life. I didn't have many girlfriends, either, because of my mother's illness and my busyness made it impossible for me to develop a friendship. But at least that was my choice. A choice made out of necessity, but still my choice.
24
"And if you had a suitor?" I asked Yllana. "Would you go?"
Yllana shrugged.
"Maybe," she said. "Depends on how much I liked him. And how much he insisted. Yours has been insistent."
That he was. Martinus had been accompanying me everywhere whenever I was at the Academy. He was nice, and he tried not to order me around, but I still occasionally felt
the weight of his gaze on me, searching, wanting, longing.
"Yeah," I said, "he's been marking his territory."
"That is a bit harsh," Yllana said.
"It's the truth," I said. "It's the reason I am going to this stupid ball at all, even though I'm not too keen on it. And why he made grandpa publish an announcement of our engagement."
A first-page ad, that was. Must have cost a fortune. Or maybe they did it for free because apparently, our families are important enough to deserve gossip in national (world-level?) newspapers?
"So that wasn't you?" Yllana asked.
I'd been getting less attention this week after the official announcement of our engagement. As if everything was settled, and there was nothing to discuss. I didn't want any more gossip, so I didn't show anything in public (although I asked Martinus to please let me have some free time, and, after some back-and-forth, he agreed I didn't need him for the dress design session with Yllana and the seamstress).
But it was slightly exhausting to have him constantly around.
"No," I said. "I just wish he'd calm down a bit, stop sticking to my side so much. Why is he being so insecure? He seemed so confident before, even when I openly rejected him. Now, since my family accepted me and it has been officially acknowledged, he's been clingy and demanding."
"I guess he thought he could conquer you when you were a poor orphan," Yllana said, "but now that you're a Morad, he's less confident."
"I hope he gets over it soon," I said, "because I don't feel like pandering to his whims for much longer. I've got enough on my plate."
That was true. Every minute of my days was fully occupied with studying. In the mornings, I went to the Academy, spending the afternoons in the Academy's library or our library. Martinus helped me at the Academy, explaining the terms of the Structural magic and guiding me through the math. Grandpa and uncle Azzie also spend considerable amounts of time explaining terms to me. Even when working, I practiced my magic: grandpa gave me an exercise lamp and told me to practice using it. And that's what I did every night. I recharged my magic by absorbing it from our stream, trying to do it as quickly as possible.
This afternoon was the first time this week I had any free time to do fun things.
"I think he's already over it," Yllana said, "he's just shutting down all the rumors."
"Our semester-end exams are two weeks after the ball," I said, "and having to practice dancing for the ball while having to juggle with everything else is exhausting. I already spend so much time studying. And practicing magic. I have no free time during the day at all. Today has been comparatively light."
This Saturday, I went to the Academy during the day and spent all the hours practicing dancing with Martinus, in my ghost form (according to grandpa, that was the easiest way to keep us decent; it seemed like grandpa didn't trust Martinus much). It was quite a relaxing day.
I would go to work again tonight, practicing my magic in the breaks between taking care of Erynn. Hopefully, this would only last for a month and a half, until the examinations. Then I could relax for a bit during the winter holidays. Despite sleeping the full eight hours while I was at the Academy, I still found constantly being present in mind drained my mental energy.
"There are only three weeks left for the Ball," Yllana told me. "And five for the exams. Cheer up; it won't be that bad."
The hairdresser was pulling my hair.
"Ouch," I said when she pulled it a bit too strongly. Again. For the fifth time.
"I'm sorry, Miss Morad," the hairdresser said. "It's just hard to put your hair into a suitable updo. It's so stubborn, like all magical hair. If you just let us use extensions…"
"No extensions," I said, firmly. I had enough weight on my hair as it was.
Besides, what's wrong with my hair? It might not be that long, but it's perfectly alright. It's smooth and black, easy to put into a ponytail or a simple bun. But a simple bun or braid would not do, according to Yllana, who asked me who I hired for my hair and makeup a week before the ball.
"Nobody," I said. "I can do it myself. I almost got the hang of magical makeup."
I did. It wasn't too different from ordinary makeup. It just lasted longer and didn't run or get greasy.
Yllana immediately went to talk to Pops and make sure he moved sun and earth to get a decent hairdresser and makeup artist. All the good ones were booked, which is how I ended up with a student of Yllana's favorite hairdresser. She was good, but not too experienced with my kind of hair. Which would not accept any kind of product but shampoo, so she had to shape my hair into some decent form and add volume with no kind of product or heat application, just with hairpins and lace. Hairpins and lace decorated with precious stones and enamel, which added to the weight, making my neck stiff.
I predict I will have a migraine by the end of the night.
"Quit whining," Yllana said. She was sitting in a comfortable armchair in my dressing room (yes, I have a dressing room), while I was seated on a hard, wooden chair.
"Easy for you to say," I pointed out. "You're not wearing five petticoats."
Yes, despite asking the seamstress to make something not too bulky, I still got five petticoats. I could move in it. Barely.
"But I've worn more," Yllana shrugged. "And hooped ones, too. I don't know why you insist on using old-fashioned ones."
"Because I find the hooped ones even less comfortable," I said, "And harder to sit in. They bend in weird ways. It's better to just wear a layer or two of fabric. Hopefully, it won't be too hot."
"They usually turn the heating on so the guys with the suits aren't cold," Yllana said, "so you ladies with many layers will be hot. But you can always take a walk in the garden. As long as you stay within the paths, it will be decent."
I observed my dress. I wasn't wearing a corset (maybe my five petticoats were the seamstress' revenge for my insistence on not wearing a corset; it seemed to offend her sensibilities), thankfully, so I was just wearing a bodice over the upper part of the dress, which allowed for a better fit to the rather loose fabric. The upper part was rather thin compared to the lower part, though, providing for some contrasting temperature sensations.
"Take a shawl with you," Yllana said. "The seamstress will no doubt be offended that you cover up her creation, but you need to be comfortable."
"I'm not sure I have one," I said. "But you can check there," I pointed toward the cupboard I didn't use. "Pops ordered a lot of things for me, and I just couldn't find the time to look through them. I've been too busy. So it's all still in the packages."
Yllana went towards the cupboard and started taking dresses and petticoats and pajamas and whatnot out of the bags.
"Amy," she said, after opening the fifteenth bag, "I don't understand how you could just keep using your simple clothes when you had all these. Especially when you aren't anonymous anymore."
"That's because I don't enjoy dressing too fancy," I said. "I've already told Pops. I don't see the point in being too posh when going to the Academy. It's not like everybody there dresses fancy."
"If they don't," Yllana said, "it's because they can't afford it."
"Or remain incognito," I added. "Like you."
"Or that," Yllana said. "But anybody who is somebody tries to show off."
"I don't see the point of showing off," I said, "or dressing fancy unless it's for an event with established dress protocol. It's not like I have that many things to be proud of."
Despite all the efforts I'd been making, I was still behind all my classmates. I was now barely able to fulfill the minimum requirements in the practical classes, and I got passable marks at the mocks exams I tried for the theory, but… I could see the foolishness of thinking I could do better than somebody like Martinus, who had studied the subjects all his life and kept studying hard. I could see how much effort he put in, and I knew that even with his help, overtaking him would be an impossible task. But then, I decided I would not compete with him. The foolishness of that was clear
to me.
Besides, Martinus didn't like it. And if I lost anyway, what was the point of hurting both me and him?
I just hope he can handle it when I do better than him. Because I will. At least in some things. If I work hard enough.
"And that," Yllana said, "is one of the reasons I like you. It seems your hair is finished now."
"Yes," the hairdresser said. "It's finished."
"Can I see the result now?" I asked. Yllana covered the mirror as soon as she came. She said that seeing the intermediate stages would make me doubt the final result.
"Not yet," Yllana said. "Now it's time for the makeup."
The makeup artist, who had been patiently waiting, stood up.
"Just a second," I said, going towards the drawer and taking an envelope with the tip I prepared in advance. "Thank you," I told the hairdresser. She nodded and left.
I then sat back, and the makeup artist (who had already applied the moisturizer before the hairdresser started her execution), started applying the foundation. I was asked to keep my chin up, my eyes closed, and my mouth shut. Which I did.
In the end, after what seemed like an eternity, I was released, the work finally finished. I opened my eyes and saw myself in the mirror… and I almost didn't recognize myself. Not like the time my face transformed completely into another person's face. This time, I went from my ordinary me to ethereally beautiful me. From plain to breathtakingly beautiful.
"Thank you," I told the makeup artist, giving her the other envelope I had prepared. Then I turned towards Yllana. "You were right; I couldn't have done this myself."
The makeup artist left, grandpa escorting her toward the portal.
"Put on the jewelry your father prepared," Yllana said.
She wasn't aware of my complicated family relationship with Pops; to her, he was just my father. Martinus was the only person outside the family who knew who my real biological father was. Plus Colonel Yaldai and some of the other policemen, I guess.
The Ghost Bride Page 18