Sophie

I had never had less merry company in all my life. Even the gardeners and stable hands, who were normally so glad to see me, and practically leaped to do my bidding, didn't look happy when I came skipping down to the gardens or to the stables.

I tidied my room one afternoon, thinking that it would please my nurse, but she didn't even notice! And I did such a lovely job too. I worked like a servant to get my chambers so clean—like a common scullery maid! And still, nothing.

Mama was the same, only quieter. Abby was meaner. Ivy said nothing at all. Dinah was quieter, and wouldn't sing to me as often. She said she didn't feel like singing, but I didn't understand how anyone can not feel like singing if they had a voice as agreeable as hers. If I could sing like her, I should have sung all day long. Then maybe the castle would not have looked so gray all the time.

And it's not just that everything looked gray—it even felt gray. Of course I missed Papa and Julian and all the others, but their absence did not give us license to sink into the deepest of despairs! I resolved to tell this to everyone I encountered. It did not go as well as I had hoped.

"Dinah?"

"Mm."

She was reading again. She read often, certainly, but it seemed that since Papa left she did nothing but. I warned her that she would get nasty wrinkles around her eyes, but she didn't seem to care. My sisters baffled me at times. If I had a complexion as lovely as hers I'd take great care not to ruin it.

"Will you go out with me?"

"It's too cold, Sophie."

"Is not," I protested. "It's nice and sunny out."

"It's snowing."

"Even more perfect!"

She gave another noncommittal "hm," and turned the page in her book.

I sighed. Maybe I could try something else. A new tactic, as Ivy would say. She always thought in terms or warfare. Or Abby. She always thought in terms of strategy. Papa always said it was a good thing she wasn't interested in fighting in the same way as Ivy, or he would have the most bloodthirsty daughter in the world. I privately agreed, and said so too. Abigail was too smart for her own good.

"Dinah?"

"Mm."

"Have you ever been in love?"

It worked. She looked up.

"What?"

"I said, have you ever been in love?"

She stared at me for a moment, then narrowed her eyes slightly and looked back down. "No, of course not."

I was persistent. "Why not?"

"I never had time," she said absently.

I giggled. "Don't be silly, Dinah. You've had plenty of time, not to mention opportunities."

She frowned at me. "I have not."

"What about Master Flynn's son?"

"What about him?"

"He's handsome."

"So?"

"Do you like him?"

"Yes."

I squealed and pulled my legs up into the chair I was sitting on, hugging them to my chest. "Ooh, do you really? I'm so happy, Dinah—he's terribly handsome."

"Not like that, goose. Now stop it so I can read."

"Oh, but Dinah, think of what lovely children you would have!"

"Sophie…" Her tone turned to one of warning.

I sighed, and rested my chin on my knees. "Oh all right, so he's not that handsome. Besides, he's blonde. You need someone with dark hair. Yours is so lovely that I would positively wail if you had blonde children. Wouldn't that be just terrible?"

"Tragic."

"Dinah, be serious."

She laughed and pushed her book away, pulling her legs up into her chair like me. Except she looked very nice when she did it, and not like a little girl. Of course, I was a little girl—everyone's favorite little girl—so I supposed it didn't matter much.

"You're asking me whether or not I've been in love and then trying to marry me off to our tutor's son, and you want me to be serious? Sophie. Have you looked at poor Thomas Flynn lately? Or have you forgotten how old he is?"

I frowned. "Eighteen, right? Isn't he? A little short for eighteen, but that doesn't change his face any."

"He's fourteen." Dinah laughed again.

I wrinkled up my nose. "Oh. I was thinking of someone else, I suppose."

She raised a brow at me. "Who?"

I hugged my legs to my chest with glee. "That dashing captain. I know he's gone with Papa, but he'll be back eventually, won't he?"

"He's thirty-seven!"

"Well, that's not so old, is it?"

"Sophie, really. I'm not going to marry someone twenty years older than me."

"I think he likes you," I said, and giggled.

She fixed me with one of her sterner looks. "He's married."

I frowned. "He is?"

Dinah laughed. "Oh, darling, you really are an oblivious little thing, aren't you?"

"Oh, probably," I said, and rocked back and forth happily. I wasn't sure what oblivious meant, exactly, but I guessed that it was good. I was everybody's favorite, after all.

"Tell you what," Dinah said, resting her arms on top of her knees. "When I fall in love, you'll be the first to know. Agreed?"

"Agreed! Oh, Dinah, will you really tell me? As soon as you're sure?"

She laughed. "Yes, sweet, as soon as I'm certain, you will be the first one to hear the news."

I shook my head. "No, no, not when you're certain. I don't like that part. You're never certain of anything, besides your old books. I want to know as soon as you think you might possibly be in love."

"Sophie…"

"Please, Dinah?" I begged. "You're so pretty already. I can only imagine how lovely you'll be once you're in love. Women in love are always so much more beautiful."

"How would you know?" she asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"I just do," I said confidently. "Why do you think mother's so beautiful? Because she's in love with Papa of course, and the kingdom too. Just promise me you'll tell me as soon as you think you are. Promise?"

"Oh, all right."

"No, really promise."

"Sophie, come on, I want to finish this."

"No, you have to!" I dropped my legs and hopped out of my chair, coming around to Dinah's seat. I stuck out my hand. "Promise?"

Dinah sighed, hesitated, then took my hand. "I promise." We wove our fingers together (hers, mine, hers, mine) and then kissed the opposite sides of our hands, she on the pinkies, I on the thumbs. It had been our sisterly seal of commitment for my whole life. I wasn't about to let her think she could get out of it now.

She pulled away, and reclaimed her smelly old book, pulling it onto her lap as she lowered her legs.

I watched her for a moment. Then, "Dinah?"

"Mm."

"Can we go outside?"

"No, Sophie."

I groaned, and exited the library very dramatically. Clearly it had the desired effect, since Dinah looked up after I left. (I knew because I peeked back into the room after I had slammed the door with great enthusiasm. I was a very gifted and effective performer.)

I felt satisfied that I had given Dinah something to think about. Finding something to entertain me was going to be another matter entirely.