S. Jae-Jones

“Vanity invites temptation, and is the sign of a weak will.”

With a start, I realized I was looking at a woman—a woman and not a child. Käthe knew of the power her body wielded over others, and that knowledge had replaced her innocence. My sister had crossed the threshold from girl to woman without me, and I felt abandoned. Betrayed.

I laughed, and helped her regain her footing. “Parties, balls, glittering society. Is that what princesses do? What of queens? What of me?”

“You?” Käthe fell silent for a moment. “No. Queens are destined for greatness.”

“Greatness?” I mused. “A poor, plain little thing like me?”

“You have something much more enduring than beauty,” she said severely.

“And what is that?”

“Grace,” she said simply. “Grace, and talent.”

I laughed. “So what is to be my destiny?”

She cut me a sidelong glance. “To be a composer of great renown.”

“Of course he’s different.” Käthe threw up her hands in exasperation. “Precious Josef, delicate Josef, talented Josef. He has music and madness and magic in his blood, something poor, ordinary, tone-deaf Katharina does not understand, could never understand.”

I opened my mouth to protest, then shut it again. “Sepperl needs me,” I said softly. It was true. Our brother was fragile, in more than just bones and blood.

“I need you,” she said, and her voice was quiet. Hurt.

Constanze’s words returned to me. Josef isn’t the only one who needs looking after.

“You don’t need me.” I shook my head. “You have Hans now.”

Käthe stiffened. Her lips went white, her nostrils flared. “If that’s what you think,” she said in a low voice, “then you’re even crueler than I thought.”

“Be grateful for what you have,” I snapped back. “Youth, beauty, and, very soon, a husband who will make you happy.”

“Happy?” Käthe’s eyes flashed. “Do you honestly think Hans will make me happy? Dull, boring Hans, whose mind is as limited as the borders of the stupid, provincial village in which he grew up? Stolid, dependable Hans, who would keep me rooted to the inn with a deed in my hand and a baby in my lap?”

I was stunned. Hans was an old friend of the family, and while he and Käthe had not been close as children—as Hans and I had been—I had not known until this moment just how little my sister loved him. “Käthe,” I said. “Why—”

“Why did I agree to marry him? Why haven’t I said anything before now?”

I nodded.

“I did.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “Over and over. But you never listened. This morning, when I said he was boring, you told me he was a good man.” She turned her face away. “You never hear a word I say, Liesl. You’re too busy listening to Josef instead.”

Mind how you choose. Guilt clotted my throat.

“That one,” the merchant said, pointing to Käthe, whose head lolled against my shoulder, “burns like kindling. All flash, and no real heat. But you,” he said. “You smolder, mistress. There is a fire burning within you, but it is a slow burn. It shimmers with heat, waiting only for a breath to fan it to life. Most curious.”

“Might I interest the young lady in red in a few curious trinkets?”

Startled from my reverie, I looked up to see the tall, elegant stranger once more.

“No, thank you, sir.” I shook my head. “I have no money to spare.”

The stranger stepped closer. In his gloved hands he held a flute, beautifully carved and polished to a high shine. Up close, I could see the gleam of his eyes from beneath the hood.

“No? Well, then, if you won’t buy my wares, would you accept a gift?”

“A—a gift?” I was hot and uncomfortable beneath his scrutiny. He looked at me as no one had before, as though I were more than the sum of my eyes, my nose, my lips, my hair, and my wretched plainness. He looked as though he saw me entire, as though he knew me. But did I know him? His presence scratched at my mind, like a half-remembered song.

My brother could prune my wild imaginings into a beautiful garden, smooth their rough edges, and present a work of art to the world.

“But I wouldn’t keep it to myself,” I said softly. “You would play my music for me.”

“Listen to me,” I said firmly. “The abandon we feel—that is not sin. That is grace. Grace is not a gift bestowed upon you that can suddenly be taken away. It is within you, Sepperl, a part of you. You carry that grace inside. And you will carry it with you all your life, no matter where you go.”

My brother shrank back, but I pulled him along, bringing him out from the darkness and into the light.