Regina Rising Read online

  With that, Jasper started on my lesson, and I resigned myself to focusing on my painting. Then I realized Jasper’s gaze had again drifted away. I turned my head in time to see him focusing on Giles’s white carriage as it came creeping up the drive. My father had mentioned over breakfast he would be coming by.

  “Looks like you have company,” Jasper said.

  “It’s a friend of my father’s.” But then Claire stepped out of the carriage, too. “And his niece, who happens to be my dear friend. Rainy will see to her. She can wait in the library until we are finished,” I said, knowing my mother would prefer that arrangement so I could get the most out of my lesson.

  “Nonsense. I will gather her,” Jasper offered. “She can sit in my chair and keep you company while you paint.”

  A few minutes later, Jasper and Claire were meandering around a patch of wildflowers. My friend wore a simple frock the color of a robin’s egg, and it made her eyes appear even brighter than usual. I smiled and waved, but to my disappointment, she must not have seen me.

  Frowning, I realized why I wasn’t as happy about Claire’s visit as I normally would have been. My time with Jasper was short and precious, and yes, I could admit I wanted him all to myself.

  Claire was giggling. I’d heard her laugh countless times, and yet, curiously, it had never sounded so light and melodic before. Had Jasper told her a joke? I wondered. If so, was he going to tell it to me, too? She stooped to pick a flower and tucked it into the braid that crowned her head, which made her look even prettier and sweeter.

  I waved again, and this time she waved back. After we wished each other a good morning, Claire said, “I was just telling Jasper how much I admire the portraits he painted of your family. By the by, Regina, you told me all about Jasper, but you failed to mention how handsome he is.”

  I tightened my grip on the paintbrush as mortification set in. I had told her all about Jasper? She was making it sound like I was in love with him. Which I most certainly was not, and even so, I surely didn’t want Jasper to know in this pathetic way. And how handsome he is? What was going on? Could it be that my best friend was flirting with my art teacher? There was no denying he was reveling in her attention, the way he chuckled softly and his cheeks reddened. I felt my own face heat up, too, but not from bashfulness. I felt something deep inside of me snap like a twig.

  “You’ll have to pardon my friend,” I said to Jasper. “Apparently young women who live in port towns are quite forthright.”

  Claire’s eyes widened as if she’d been slapped, and she shrank away from us. “It’s true, my tongue sometimes gets the better of me. I apologize for my bluntness.” She drew her bottom lip through her teeth, appearing rather small and awkward as she stood there. She was the portrait of a maiden in distress, and I had begun feeling guilty for how I’d treated her when Jasper came to her rescue.

  He gestured for Claire to take the chair in which he usually sat, and made a big to-do about ensuring her comfort. “No harm done,” he said. “Sometimes I wish more people would speak plainly.”

  I smiled at both of them, but I was bearing down on my back teeth. If Jasper wanted me to speak plainly, I could say I wished the two of them wouldn’t flirt. Didn’t they know they were making a spectacle of themselves?

  “I suppose if I’m speaking plainly, I…” Claire and Jasper were looking at me with tilted heads, obviously waiting for me to finish my thought.

  I faced Claire. “I wonder if you wouldn’t mind waiting in the library until my lesson is finished. I’ll find it easier to concentrate on my painting.”

  “Oh,” she said, clearly taken aback by my request. “Of course, Regina. I understand.” She stood, bowed her head, and took a few steps in the direction of my house. “It was nice to make your acquaintance, Jasper.”

  “I’m sure our paths will cross again,” he called.

  They’re merely being civil, I told myself. What I’d witnessed was an ordinary exchange between people who’d recently been introduced and were parting ways. Still, I couldn’t help noticing that although Jasper had turned his attention back to me, he was keeping half an eye on Claire as she walked away, her straw-colored hair blowing in the breeze. Again, it felt like something had snapped inside of me.

  I gazed up at Jasper through my lashes. “If I’m speaking plainer still, I should confess I’ve forgotten the technique you taught me last week for painting grass. Would you mind showing me again?”

  “By all means,” he agreed, handing me a special brush with fanned-out bristles. “Start at the root and flick your wrist as you come up each blade of grass.”

  “Yes, but can you show me?” I reached out and lightly touched his arm.

  He blinked a couple of times and then nodded. “Certainly. Here.” He knelt behind me and reached around my right shoulder, cupping my hand in his. He moved my hand, he the puppeteer and I the marionette, creating wispy green brushstrokes on the canvas. I felt his chest pressing against the back of the chair, his breath in my hair. The air caught in my lungs. I wanted to tell him I remembered now so he would stop. I swallowed, afraid that if I uttered any words, they would come out unintelligible.

  Suddenly, Jasper dropped my hand. The brush fell to the ground as if wounded. At first I thought he’d somehow read my mind. But when I looked up, I saw for myself what was the matter.

  My mother was at the edge of the orchard, striding toward us. With violet-colored vapors at her spiked heels, her hands on her hips, and her eyes blazing, it was clear she had seen us even before she spoke. “What are you doing with my daughter?”

  Jasper scrambled to his feet, slipping as if he were skating on a frozen pond. “I was just…” He paused to clear his throat, and yet his voice still sounded like a frog’s. “I was demonstrating how to do a special painting technique.”

  My mother raised her chin, and I froze in place. “I see. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve ‘demonstrated’ your ‘technique’ to Regina for the last time.”

  “Mother!” I stood on shaky legs, accidentally knocking my painting to the ground. “Allow me to explain.”

  My mother ignored me, training her glare on Jasper. A chilly air descended upon us, making me shiver. “Leave this instant,” she said. “If you ever set foot on our estate again, you will be sorry.” With that, she spun on her heels and walked up to the house as Claire had done a few minutes prior. As the cruel words I’d said about Claire reverberated in my head, a lump the size of an apple formed in my throat, blocking the air from my lungs. I swallowed it down, realizing that had she not come in the first place, and had she not been so loose-lipped, I never would have felt the need to manipulate Jasper in such a way.

  Though Jasper had recently been so close I’d felt his breath on my neck, now he might as well have been realms away. He didn’t even bother to meet my gaze when he leaned my painting against a tree.

  “Jasper, I’m sorry,” I said softly. As he walked toward his cart—a rebuked dog with his tail tucked between his legs—I called after him, “I’ll speak with my mother and make her see it was all a misunderstanding. Will I still see you Saturday night?” I realized how desperate I sounded, but I did not care. “Jasper!”

  As he disappeared down the road, my mind reeled. I’d all but forced him to overstep the student-teacher line he’d so mindfully drawn at our very first lesson. Not to mention the line my mother had drawn the day I was born—between me and anyone who could potentially stand in the way of my becoming the queen.

  Could anything I said to my mother actually make a difference? She wouldn’t even need to resort to magic to blast Jasper into a world of hurt. A simple accusation whispered at a party would ensure he was never again commissioned by the Enchanted Forest’s most affluent families.

  It might not alter Jasper’s fate, but I had to at least attempt to clear things up with my mother. The sooner the better.

  I ran into the house and nearly tripped over Thaddeus before finally tracking down my mother in the drawing
room. With perfect posture and a serene countenance, she sat in the tapestry-upholstered, high-backed chair as if she were posing for a portrait by an invisible artist.

  I stole a few seconds to catch my breath and gather as much composure as possible, given the fear that festered in my heart. I cleared my throat and pulled back my shoulders. “I apologize for interrupting you, Mother. I need to explain what you saw down by the orchard.”

  “You needn’t waste any more of my time. I am quite certain what I saw. There is nothing wrong with my eyes.”

  “It wasn’t Jasper’s fault,” I said miserably. “I asked him to show me a brushstroke, and he only did as I requested.”

  She exhaled loudly and crossed her arms. “I hired him to teach you how to paint, not to grope you with his paint-stained hands. His behavior was reprehensible.”

  “It wasn’t like that, Mother. Truly.”

  “So, you’re telling me you threw yourself at your art teacher, like a desperate little wench? Because if you are, you’re saying you are willingly throwing away all the hard work I’ve put into making sure you become a queen.” She arched an eyebrow as I struggled with my response.

  “Well, I wouldn’t say that.”

  She unfolded her arms and pointed a bejeweled finger at me. “Good. We are in agreement, then.” She abruptly stood and began walking toward the doorway. Thaddeus bustled past in the direction of the living room as fast as his legs would carry him. “Jasper’s fate is sealed.”

  “I will not leave until you’ve given me the opportunity to explain,” I said, planting my feet firmly in front of her. “Can’t you step back and see that perhaps you’ve wanted to fire him all along, and you were looking for an excuse to do so?” As the words gushed out of my mouth, I realized how much truth they held. If she told my father what she saw—the scene I’d so recklessly orchestrated to prove to Claire, Jasper, and even myself that Jasper harbored romantic feelings for me—my father would undoubtedly be on board with her decision to dismiss him.

  “I’ve heard quite enough from you, Regina.” My mother narrowed her eyes and waved her hand. I covered my ears and steeled myself as best I could for whatever terrible magic she had in store for me. When nothing happened, I lowered my hands and exhaled in relief. Then I felt a featherlight sensation around my middle.

  The sash that had been tied around my waist loosened. After floating before my eyes for a second or two, it snapped straight and wrapped itself over my mouth and around my head. I tried to protest, but my words were muted before they formed. When I began to unknot the sash, my fingers stuck to it. I could only imagine how ridiculous I looked, with my eyes bugging out and my hands glued to the back of my skull, hopelessly restrained.

  Well, perhaps not hopelessly.

  I had one last hope. Magic.

  Drawing from what Claire had taught me so far, I concentrated on how it felt to be silenced in such a humiliating, infuriating manner. It didn’t require much effort to conjure up those emotions, for they were at the forefront, the driving force behind every beat of my heart. It felt as if there were a ball of fire within my rib cage, scorching my insides. How desperately I needed it out of me! But not until I’d gleaned its power.

  My mother selected a book from the shelf and started flipping through its pages, completely ignoring me. Hot tears sprang to my eyes, and it seemed I was seeing her through a pane of glass as red as the perfect apple I’d given Jasper. A noise rose from the depths of my throat, the guttural growl of a wild beast.

  The smug look on my mother’s face as she read—the upward quirk of her mouth and her laughing eyes—gave me the final amount of anger I needed. Closing my eyes and pressing my fingers into the back of my skull, I focused all of my power on removing the gag from my mouth. I could almost feel the sweet sensation of the sash slipping off, swirling as it floated down to the marble floor. How I yearned to see the look of utter shock on my mother’s face when she realized I’d used magic.

  She slipped the book back onto the shelf, and I felt the gag squeeze my jaw and ears like a corset. Had I made that happen, or was it my mother’s magic? Perspiration coated my skin and my entire body shook uncontrollably. Suddenly, my knees gave out. A mere second before I surely would have toppled to the floor, my hands were freed, allowing me to reach out for the chair and break my fall.

  “Are you quite all right, Regina?” my mother asked as if I’d merely stubbed my toe.

  I couldn’t bear to look up at her. Blinking hard, I willed the tears to stop streaming from my eyes, soaking the sash that remained tied around my head.

  Fortunately, she didn’t wait for me to answer. Perhaps that was because I couldn’t speak, even if I’d wanted to. Her heels hammered along the floor as she stepped around me and exited the drawing room. I didn’t lift my eyes until her footfalls sounded like a mere tapping in a distant hall.

  Once I righted my posture, I was surprised to see I wasn’t alone. Claire lingered outside the doorway, clutching my painting of the apple orchard. I wanted to know how long she’d been there, how much she’d witnessed. However, judging by the pallor of her face and the trembling of her lower lip, it was evident she’d seen plenty.

  “Sorry,” she said softly, her eyes resting uneasily on my gag. “I just…Well, I thought you might want this. You need to finish the grass. As I’m sure you know. Here,” she said, putting the painting down, “let me help you.”

  As she reached out, the sash slipped off my face. It swirled as it floated down to the marble floor, exactly as I’d envisioned it doing earlier. However, the sensation was much more bitter than sweet. “Thank you, Claire,” I said with my last shred of dignity. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  Interrupting the awkward moments that followed, Rainy burst into the room, balancing a silver tray stacked with dishes. “Oh, my!” she cried, setting the tray on the table with little grace. “I thought you were still in your lesson, Regina. It’s not too blustery, is it?” she asked, drawing back the drapes and peering outside.

  Claire came to the rescue with a story. “Jasper had an engagement. Regrettably, he was forced to cut Regina’s lesson short.”

  Rainy’s freckled, rounded cheeks puffed in and out. “Tsk, tsk. Your mother will not be pleased with such unprofessional behavior.” Next she turned her attention to Claire. “I hope you’ll be joining us for tea, dear. I’ve whipped up something special for today.”

  I wondered if she’d stay, given the way I’d treated her. To be honest, I was surprised she was still there. She glanced over at me, and I gave her a wee nod.

  Claire’s pretty face broke out into a grin, and she picked up my painting again. “In that case, how can I refuse?”

  “Good. You two girls go freshen up, and I’ll have everything ready at the stroke of two.”

  “I’ll meet you in my room in a few minutes,” I told Claire, and once she was on her way up the stairs, I took a quick detour to the dining hall, where I immediately noticed the family portrait Jasper had painted had been replaced by a tapestry depicting a fox hunt and a large silver-framed mirror. I wasn’t surprised she’d abolished all evidence of Jasper in our home, yet I couldn’t believe she’d gotten to it so quickly.

  I balled up the sash and flung it into the fireplace. I’d always hated wearing sashes, tied up in big ridiculous bows. I only wore them because they pleased my mother. As the sash smoked and turned black, I watched with a mixture of satisfaction and fear. Once it disappeared altogether in the embers, I wiped away more tears I hadn’t even realized I’d cried, took a deep breath, and then hurried up to my bedroom.

  After what had happened with my mother, I could think of nothing more insufferable than sitting across from her, sipping tea. However, knowing Claire would be there made it more palatable.

  I needed to apologize. Maybe that was why she hadn’t gone. I really hadn’t had much practice in apologies. Although, seeing her standing on the far side of my bedroom, my painting of the apple trees in her hands, I realized I
didn’t want to lose her. “Claire, back by the orchard, I…” I closed the door behind me, struggling to form the words. “I don’t know what got into me. Something just…snapped.”

  Claire bowed her head graciously. “I owe you an apology, too. I truly had no idea you had feelings for Jasper.”

  “I don’t.”

  She handed me the painting. “You’re a mediocre painter and a horrid liar.”

  I laughed. “Okay, first off, this painting isn’t even finished. Who knows? It might be brilliant…someday. Secondly, you’re right. I confess, I might feel a certain fondness toward Jasper. You know as well as I that my mother would never allow, let alone endorse, a courtship between him and me.”

  “That’s true.” I waited a moment to see if she’d say something more—maybe something romantic, to the effect that I shouldn’t allow my mother to dictate my love life. However, she simply flopped onto my bedspread, wordlessly.

  I stowed the painting among all my others in the back corner against the wall. I ran my finger over Rocinante’s muzzle in the first picture I’d painted. It had only been three months since I’d met Jasper and started my lessons with him, and yet it felt like much longer. For the first time, the idea of having no more lessons settled in, and my heart dropped.

  “Jasper is going to the ball on Saturday,” I said. “I asked him to meet me at the rose bridge in the royal gardens at ten o’clock. He said he would, but that was before my mother fired him. Do you think there’s a chance he’ll still be there?”

  “I don’t think it would be wise. Your mother has made it very clear she doesn’t want him anywhere near you.”

  “Well,” I said, trying not to get discouraged by Claire’s apparent need to be the voice of reason, “I was hoping I could get a little help from you. Like, maybe you can make sure my mother is engaged and doesn’t realize I’ve left the ballroom at ten o’clock. That way, I can at least run out and check to see if he’s there.” If he was, it would prove he cared for me enough to take the risk. Further, it would be a victory for me over my mother—a victory she would never know about, but that would stay with me for all time. “Will you do that for me, Claire?”