Garnet's Story Read Online Free

WAITING INEVITABLY LEADS TO DRINKING WHISKEY in my room and playing music on my gramophone.
    I’ve been really loving this one brass band called The Jolly Rogers—their trumpet player is incredible—and I’m lost in one of his solos when Annabelle knocks on my door.
    S is at din
    â€œWhat?” I yelp. “Already?”
    She gives me a look that plainly says that she’s not at fault and points to the clock on my wall. It’s twenty-five minutes past eight.
    I stand and find I’ve drunk quite a bit more whiskey than I intended to. Nothing I can do about it now.
    Annabelle hurries out of my room, probably off to the surrogate quarters to turn down the bed. I take my tumbler with me and head down to the dining room. Men aren’t invited to post-Auction dinners. I’m willing to bet Father is holed up in his smoking room.
    There are no footmen guarding the doors to the dining room, so I’m guessing they’re in between dishes. I press my ear against the door, thinking maybe I can at least hear something of interest. But it’s all royals talking.
    Of course. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a surrogate speak more than a few sentences, unless she had a talent for singing.
    Mother is saying something in her politest evil voice, so I’m guessing she’s talking to the Countess of the Stone or the Electress. My suspicions are confirmed when the Countess’s booming voice answers.
    â€œOh yes, I believe I will start with a daughter,” she says. “Boys can be so terribly difficult, don’t you think?”
    Ouch. Mother is not going to like that. I hear the Electress giggle.
    â€œYes, how is Garnet, by the way? Staying out of trouble?”
    If only she knew. I hold my breath, waiting for Mother’s response.
    â€œHe is in his room at the moment, Your Grace. Studying.”
    Studying? Does she honestly think anyone in that room will believe such a ridiculous lie?
    Still, the opportunity is just too perfect. I know I shouldn’t, but without really even making the decision, I burst through the doors and swagger into the dining room.
    Ten pairs of eyes stare at me in varying shades of surprise. The royal women seem amused, the surrogates frightened (and dare I say, intrigued), and my mother . . . I think she could freeze water with her glare.
    â€œMother!” I cry, raising my tumbler. There are five surrogates in attendance. But which one am I supposed to be watching? Then I realize I’d better come up with a reason for bursting in pretty quick. “I beg your pardon, ladies. Didn’t realize there was a dinner party tonight.” Mother can’t fault me for that, since technically, she didn’t tell me about it. I take in all the faces at the table again, and then I see her.
    The girl seated to Mother’s right. Her hair is black and curly, her skin pale as a pearl, her dress perfectly cut and fit (that’s Annabelle’s handiwork, I’m sure of it). But hereyes . . . her eyes are a shocking purple.
    â€œOh, right,” I say. “The Auction.”
    The Electress and the Countess of the Stone barely try to hide their laughter in their napkins.
    â€œGarnet, my darling,” Mother says. She only ever calls me “darling” in public. “ What are you doing?”
    Well, I might as well play my part to the end.
    â€œOh, don’t mind me,” I say with a wave of my hand. “Just needed a refill.”
    I walk to the side table with the best booze and refill my tumbler. Mother is on her feet with an agility that belies her age.
    â€œWill you excuse me for a moment?” she says, gliding to my side and grabbing my arm. Hard.
    â€œOw,” I mumble as she marches me out of the dining room. The door closes behind us but we can very clearly hear the Electress declare, “And that, ladies, is why I feel this city should be left in the hands of a woman!”
    That seems a little