Princess of Athelia: An Unfinished Fairy Tales Novella by Aya Ling Page A

me.
    “I’ve known Edward since Constance married his cousin,” Lillie says, smoothing back a lock of her hair. “I wasn’t much older than Rosie, but he was so kind and attentive to me. I had my own garden at home, and he was instrumental in helping me choose the seeds and species. I’ve rarely interacted with anyone outside family, since I haven’t been brought out, so Edward has become my best friend.”
    What am I supposed to say? Thanks for telling me; now, get lost.
    “Will you forgive me, Katriona?” Lillie says, her tone plaintive. “I really hope that I didn’t cause any misunderstanding between you.”
    “You didn’t.” Edward didn’t even mention a word about Lillie. Not that we have managed to talk much in private, especially amid a house party. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—my bladder is going to burst.”
    Her eyes widen in shock. I don’t know if it’s because the word “bladder” is rarely used or if she’s realized she’s been keeping me too long, but I don’t bother to find out. Nature calls—an emergency call, in fact.
    When I emerge from the bathroom, I notice in the mirror that one of my hairpins has fallen out, and my hair is in danger of breaking free. I decide to head back to my room.
    Somehow, I get lost. This Pemberley-like place isn’t as enormous as the palace, but I’ve only been here for a day. And I have never been good at directions. I used to get lost in my own school even after one semester.
    I hurry along the corridor and find myself on a balcony. It’s not the typical kind that projects outside a building, but rather, it overlooks a larger room on the lower level. Rosie is bent over a desk, her face screwed up in concentration as she writes in a book.
    It is rather interesting to observe her from where I stand. I suspect that the construction of this balcony is quite convenient for the parents wanting to check up on their children. After all, no one has surveillance cameras in Athelia.
    And then I hear a door being thrown open, and Thomas swaggers into the room. He slams a fist on her desk.
    “Roly-poly! Have you stolen Tristan’s old stuff again?”
    Rosie quickly slips the book into the desk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “I’ve been looking for his arithmetic workbook, volume two. Come—hand it over. I know you sneaked it from Tristan’s room when I was away in boarding school.”
    He stalks over to her, his hand outstretched. Rosie’s lip quivers, but she shakes her head. “You can get away with copying the answers, but you’d still flunk the tests. And then you’ll get in worse trouble when Father gets your report card.”
    I can’t see Thomas’s face, but I’m pretty sure he’s mad. “Don’t you play Goody Two-shoes with me, Little Miss Rosie. It’s not like those workbooks are going to do you any good. Girls have no business doing arithmetic anyway. Your brain isn’t fit for mental exertion.”
    Now, that’s going too far. I take the staircase that leads to the lower level and easily find the room where Rosie and Thomas are speaking. I fling the door wide open. “Morning.” I offer what I hope is a charming smile. “Sorry for barging in without knocking, but I heard you talking about arithmetic and wondered if I could be of some help.”
    Rosie stares at me, her eyes round and wide, her delicate white hands gripping the sides of her desk.
    Thomas looks as though he just swallowed a live fish. “What did you just say?”
    “You heard me, but I guess you didn’t understand. So allow me repeat it: I could help you with your math—arithmetic—problems.” I keep my smile confident and push down any bit of doubt I’m having. Math was never my strong suit, but I’m pretty sure my high school math skills are sufficient for the problems in a thirteen-year-old’s arithmetic workbook. Plus, if he needed to copy the answers from his older brother’s book, he can’t be too bright.
    “Ladies don’t mess with