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Her mother’s closet was full of dresses, just as she’d predicted. Amalia brushed her hand over the shoulders of the gowns, reveling in the textures. They were even more beautiful than the ones in Amalia’s wardrobe, even more well-made, more luxurious.
There were a few dresses Amalia remembered, a few she’d seen her mother wear before. Amalia didn’t touch those. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at them for too long. They made her want to go back to bed and forget about ever wanting to get up in the first place.
But there were others, plenty of others. Unworn. Ones her mother had never even touched. Those dresses didn’t make her feel anything at all. Amalia took a few of them from their hangers, laying them out on the bed, before choosing a green gown with cream lace to try on. It was intricate, but not so much that it couldn’t be a day dress. It was perfect.
Amalia struggled to remove her old dress, wincing as the fabric cut into her skin. It was a relief to toss it aside and step into the green gown.
It fit. Mostly. It was a little long, the hem brushing against the floor, though not nearly as long as she’d expected it to be. Her mother had always been so much taller than she was. Maybe this dress was meant to be worn short? And that’s why?—
Amalia yelped as she turned and caught sight of her reflection in her mother’s mirror.
At first, she thought it was a ghost. Her mother’s specterof death, trapped in her bedchamber, waiting for Amalia to come here so she could tell her what a disappointment she was one last time.
But no. That wasn’t her mother in the mirror, Amalia realized, stepping closer. The figure took a step closer, in time with her.
It was her.Herreflection.
I look so much like her, Amalia thought, shocked. She walked to the mirror, leaning closer to her reflection. She twisted her head from side to side, trying to see herself from every angle. Not an exact copy, no. But enough like her, it was a shock to see.
Her face was so thin—much thinner than she remembered. When had she last looked in a mirror, last seen her own face? Her round rosy cheeks were gone, and their loss made her look so much older than sixteen.
She didn’t have her mother’s snow-white hair, and there wasn’t even a trace of white in her brown curls. But she had her mother’s eyes, her mother’s height.
Her body looked more like her mother’s, too. A little too thin, like she was being stretched, but her mother had looked the same way.
Suddenly, it was all too much. Amalia looked away from the mirror, not wanting to see herself there anymore. Not wanting to see her mother there anymore. She gathered up the dresses she’d pulled from the closet and ran back to her room, not bothering to pick up her old dress from where it lay abandoned on the floor next to her mother’s bed.
Chapter 19
ALICE
Alice forced herself to swallow her irritation when she rounded a bend in the palace halls and found Leandra standing there, blocking her way to the throne room.
“I’m worried about the princess,” the High Priestess said, forgoing any greeting or preamble.
Great. Another thing I have to deal with today. But she managed to keep the irritation from showing on her face as she met Leandra’s eyes.
“You’re stopping me in the middle of the hallway to tell me this?” Alice asked her, her tone skeptical.
Leandra nodded.
Just great.
“Fine,” Alice said, clenching her jaw tight. She gestured for Leandra to follow her, skirting around her and continuing down the hallway. “Walk with me and talk. I don’t have time to stop and chitchat. I’m on my way to the council meeting.”
She’d be damned if she’d let Leandra’s little worries keep her from getting there in time.
“I’ve been speaking with the princess’s handmaids,” Leandra explained, hurrying to keep up with Alice as she stomped through the hall. Leandra’s silk slippers made a soft pitter-patter on themarble floor, a stark contrast to Alice’s heavy steps. “She rarely leaves her room anymore. All she does is sleep. And I don’t think she’s eating.”
“And?” Alice prompted.
“And… and what are we going to do about this?” Leandra asked, stunned.
“Do aboutwhat?”
“I think the princess is depressed, Alice. I think she’s lonely. She never has any visitors, never spends any time outside of her room.”
“If you’re so worried about her being alone, why don’t you go and visit her?” Alice asked. She didn’t have time for this. Didn’t have time to worry about one little brat when the realm was hanging on by a thread. The army had been practically dismantled after the Queen’s death, and despite all of Alice’s efforts to rebuild the city’s forces, they were still understaffed. They were vulnerable without an army of trained Witches to rely on. Vulnerable and ripe for the taking.
