Alexandra by Lauren Royal, Devon Royal

bright,” Alexandra said. “Didn’t you tell us A Lady of Distinction favors pastels?”
    “It’s called jonquille ,” the mantua-maker put in. “And it’s très fashionable.”
    Juliana gave a happy sigh. “I shall have it, then.”
    “How can you even see it?” Griffin complained loudly.
    “Griffin?” Tris barged into the drawing room. “We must leave soon, if I’m to—” Locking gazes with Alexandra, he cut off. “Pardon me,” he said quickly and turned to leave, much to her relief.
    Grabbing him by the upper arm, Griffin pulled him back into the room. “Do sit down. You, too, can help my sisters choose their new evening dresses.”
    “Choose dresses?” Tris echoed dubiously. But he sat, arranging his rangy form on a sofa.
    Alexandra would have sighed if she wasn’t afraid it would draw too much attention. In the past week, for her own comfort and to mollify her brother, she’d done her best to avoid Tris. Happily, that had proved a simple matter, since he’d been feverishly working on his scheme to save the vineyard.
    Tris had taken to rising at dawn and breakfasting before Alexandra, an early riser herself, even ventured forth from her room. He spent most of his daylight hours in the temporary workshop Griffin had set up for him off the quadrangle between the laundry and the dairy, effectively hidden from where her family lived on the two upper floors. And when he wasn’t in the workshop building his contraption, he was at the foundry visiting workmen or out in the fields directing construction. Alexandra rarely saw him except at dinner.
    Though all of that made things a little easier, she was impatient for him to finish and return to Hawkridge. For now, she decided, she would simply ignore him.
    At least he was focused on Griffin at the moment, rather than her. “It’s dark in here,” he said.
    A twinkle in Griffin’s eye was apparent even in the dimness. “Did you not know,” he drawled, “that dress material is best selected by candlelight, lest something pale yellow in the daytime appear black by night?”
    “Black?” Tris crossed his arms. “What sort of addlepated—”
    “We can open the curtains now,” Juliana interrupted. “We’ve all chosen our fabrics.”
    “Look at mine.” While Griffin went to pull back the draperies, Corinna held up a swatch of the palest pink. “It’s called blush.”
    “It’s lovely,” Tris said. Although Alexandra was busy ignoring him, she couldn’t help but observe his amusement at the goings-on.
    “And Alexandra,” Juliana announced with a long pause for dramatic effect, “will be wearing amaranthus.”
    “Amaranthus?” Tris sounded even more entertained.
    “A bright shade of purple with a pinkish tint.” As a painter, Corinna was good at describing colors. “Show him, Alexandra.”
    Alexandra didn’t want to show Tris anything. She wanted to smack her sister, but she supposed A Lady of Distinction wouldn’t approve. Instead she reluctantly held forth a piece of the silk, which shimmered in the newly admitted sunlight.
    “Hmm,” Tris said.
    Corinna grinned at her sister while addressing the room in general. “Can you believe it?”
    “Believe what?” Griffin asked.
    “That she would wear such a color. She always wears blue.”
    “Does she?”
    “Her room is blue, the ribbons on her bonnets are blue, her shoes are blue—”
    “Are they?” Griffin asked, looking perplexed. He stared at Alexandra’s blue shoes where they peeked out from beneath her blue skirts. “I hadn’t noticed.”
    “He’s such a boy,” Juliana said to no one in particular.
    Corinna shrugged. “Madame Rodale showed Alexandra a stunning swatch of bishop’s blue—”
    “I’m tired of wearing blue,” Alexandra interrupted. “I wish to wear a different color. Many different colors,” she amended. “A new color every day.”
    The old Alexandra would have opted for blue, but then the old Alexandra would have spent weeks or months languishing