What Comes of Attending the Commoners Ball

by Elisabeth Aimee Brown

“I’ll have to send her a present. What sorts of things do peasants like, I wonder?” Cheese and vampires, I nearly say, as the ghost of a smile twitches across my face.

You may as well go, you know. Lady Hitchingford will probably have good food.” My stomach rumbles. “Not fair!” I say. “I don’t always think about food!” “What if she has cheese?”

I want to dance with Lucas again, and talk with him about books and economics, and make him laugh more, and be held by him. I want moments with him that are not stolen and scandalous.

:’)

Miss Flanders is not my duty. Except— Isn’t she a citizen of the land? Doesn’t she deserve my care? And isn’t she, in some small way, my friend? Can I leave her wandering? And do I not love her? My feet still beneath me. Do I not love her? My heart beats erratically. I cannot—I should not—I must not love Miss Flanders. To love her would be inappropriate, injudicious, undutiful, irresponsible.

“He was a fool, sending you gifts. I hope you didn’t fall in love with him just because he gave you cheese!” I skim a hand over my aching heart. “Of course not.”

Same