Mine to Fear (Mine #3)(2)

The room is silent as I think about that. What would Tawny’s parents say? Her mother, the Queen, would likely not want her daughter, the third in line for the throne, in harm’s way. It would probably be my head on the chopping block since I brought the idea back with me from Chardonia.

Tawny breaks the silence. “Mother wanted to make certain your family got the invite to the ball this evening.”

I'm still lost on the idea of her wanting to help in Chardonia. Mother would want me to accept the invitation even though I'd rather stay home and father is still too weak to leave. “Thank you. We did and would be delighted to attend.”





***





After Tawny leaves, I remain in the sitting room staring at nothing, wondering what to do, if anything, about Tawny's declaration. Not that I can even be in Chardonia like I want to, though, so I don't know why I'm contemplating anything to do with her declaration. There's no way she could go. Besides, Zade would have my head.

“Are you pining for Chardonia or for Chadwick?” Mom's question startles me from the thought.

“That's not even a question.”

“Both then?”

I don't have the heart to tell her it's definitely only one. Though I do miss Chadwick, it's not the way she means. At least I don't think it is...

“I accepted the invitation to the Queen's ball this evening,” I say.

“Oh good. It's been too long since Queen Brundy and I chatted. When I saw Tawny, I was hoping her mother had joined her. I suppose she's busy with government, especially with all the growing political problems with Chardonia.”

“I'm certain she is.” New rumors spread everyday, and it quickly feels like I've lost touch with those I care about. The border closures are getting tighter. The watching, even the lower class, is stricter. The hunt for the rebels is vigorous. There hasn't even been word from Cynthia. Why hasn't she spelled me a message to let me know if she's safe? Have they caught her and Lukas?

As I enter my room, it just makes me long for a room back in Chardonia, whether one of the cramped ones or big, it wouldn't matter. At least in Chardonia I was not only helping but I gained freedom from the expectations set on me here in Envado. Of marrying and becoming a woman of taste and elegance. Of course, those expectations are nothing compared to what the women in Chardonia face, and they still don't even realize how bad it is. The horrors of being beaten and hexed by men who owned them. If I could bring them all here for a month, maybe then they'd begin to understand.

Going there was the best choice I ever made. After Zade freed Serena and Cynthia showed everyone that women could not only do magic but win the entire tournament with it—me doing a few magic spells when no one was looking and helping with simple chores there doesn't seem like enough. I want to be more. I want to do more. I want to make a difference.

Instead, I'm going to a ball.

Gee, what good am I doing? If only Sanos, the rebel group secretly aiding Chardonia, would have let me help. They should have at least sought my opinions instead of just rumor digging like everyone else. If only they didn't see me as a liability because I wasn't as trained as they were, thanks to Zade and Chadwick trying to protect me. I shouldn’t be home while they're in Chardonia helping. Just thinking of it makes me wish Zade was around to argue with.

I still can't believe they sent me home.





Chapter Two





The ball is more lavish than others I remember attending. Spells are everywhere, sparkling, dancing, swishing across the room in the form of birds and butterflies. Drinks are flaring up like fireworks. Dresses are changing colors and styles. Men's suits are too. It used to impress me, but now it's a waste. Don't these people realize what's going on just across the border?

Apparently not.

A woman approaches mother and me, hair spelled bright fuchsia, twisted up too high atop her head with pink and purple spelled butterflies flitting around it. Her dress is spelled to sparkle in time with the music, and her make-up changes every few seconds, each time to something more gaudy than the last. “Waverly, you're back! Are you going to hold a party soon? No one throws parties as grand as yours.”

I make some excuse, but my thoughts are on the parties I held. Is she right? Were they really more garish than this? What type of example did I set? The thought sends my stomach churning as I disengage from the woman. Who did I used to be? When did I change?

I want to be back at home, and my mom knows it.

Mom pulls me forward. “We have to greet the Queen at the very least. It would be rude to leave before then.”

It's true, but being here has only made me more frustrated with the frivolous behaviors of my fellow countrymen when there are women who can't breathe without their husbands' permission back in Chardonia. The way everyone here flitters about without a care, or at least cares that aren't life-threatening, drinking and talking and casually casting their spells, makes me long for a place that actually needs my help. Or someone to punch.

When I don't respond to mother's statement, she says, “I'm worried about you. Nothing has been the same since you came home.”

Nothing seems the same as it did before.

“I thought this ball might cheer you up. You always loved them before,” she says. “When you told me you accepted the invitation, I thought it might be the opportunity you needed to return to your old self. I think I was wrong, though. Not just about the ball but about more. This feeling, and the way you've been since coming home, it goes deeper than socializing, doesn't it?”