Tower of Dove

Chapter 14: The Happy Ending

Tower of Dove Chapter 14: The Happy Ending

It had taken Posy a good hour to quit crying. Waking up alone in Lilyana’s bed, filled with her older sister’s scent, hadn’t help. It was like inhaling apples in the summer time, but when Posy had asked Lilyana how to acquire that smell, she’d only gotten a strange look. After that, Posy had come to the conclusion that her sister was just naturally that way—uniquely perfect.

After washing up and going to her own room—which she thought looked bluer than her mood—she decided to dress and get ready for breakfast.

Posy loved getting dressed. She could spend hours just trying on new clothes and seeing which colors worked with which, what styles suited her. She was trying to persuade her mother into allowing her to begin some sort of training in modern fashion, but Calanthe wasn’t too keen on the idea. Posy had the distinct feeling that her mom didn’t want her to gain much independence. If she did, then it would be more difficult for Calanthe to marry her off when she was eighteen.

Of course, Posy was secretly sneaking books in and working Ms. Corine’s sewing machine when her mother wasn’t home. But she didn’t have to tell anyone about that.

She rummaged through her closet for a good twenty minutes before finally deciding on an indigo dress. She admired it in the mirror once it was on, her eyes enjoying the way the white lacing wrapped around her torso and gradually disappeared at the skirt, which furled around and swished with her every movement. It was a very pretty dress, but she still envied the dresses that Lilyana got to wear. She would be eleven years old in a month, but it’d be another four or five years until she’d be able to wear dresses like Lilyana.

She sighed and left her closet, not wanting to think of her sister too much. If Calanthe or Ms. Corine saw her crying, they’d begin to ask questions and whenever they asked Posy questions, they always seemed to get the truth from her.

She crossed the room to her vanity, which was much more decorated than Lilyana’s. It was silver, but she had wound dried flowers and ribbons along the edges and around the mirror. In the reflection she saw her room—excessively blue with silver star curtains, clothes thrown everywhere, and an overflowing bookcase—but she also saw herself.

Everyone told her she looked like her father, but she didn’t see it. Sure, she had his dark hair and blue eyes, but her features were her mother’s. Lilyana, though, was their father if he’d been blond. Everything about her—the curve of her chin, the shape of her face, her deep, wide eyes and even her giant feet—were just like Ardice, but no one seemed to notice. Even when Posy tried to point it out to them they just laughed and told her how sweet she was.

No one took her seriously. No one except Lilyana.

She sighed at her flower framed reflection and examined her hair. The ringlets were almost completely loose now, hardly waving as her hair fell down to her waist. She’d always envied Lilyana’s curls—her hair was as flat as an ironing board. She contented herself tying it back in two braids. Maybe that would give it some shape.

She finished her look with her favorite headband to pull back her bangs—the black one with a pretty bow—and headed downstairs.

The smell of pancakes wafted up to her as soon as her foot touched the first step, making her smile. She loved to eat good food. If Ms. Corine didn’t watch her, she’d definitely be chubby. The cook still managed to sneak her an extra slice of cake every now and then, which she very much liked. Partly because she just liked to be a pig sometimes, but largely because it frustrated her mother.

Anything that annoyed Calanthe was a good time to Posy.

She let her hand slide across the glossy banister as she descended the steps. Ms. Corine had made her do this ever since she did an epic fall down the two flights a year previous. The poor maid didn’t have a clue that when she and Calanthe were both out, Posy would convince Lilyana to slide down the banister with her. The bruises were always worth the fun.