There is no graduation from the academy. Mother visits on Alice’s fifteenth birthday to inform her of her betrothal to a man twice her age. The Baron of Thread is in want of a wife, and the Creelhands are in want of his money and connections. They showed him her portrait and a deal was struck. Alice is worth fifty thousand gold pieces, three years’ discounted rates on thread, and the promise of an introduction to the Baron’s business network.
When Alice voices her desire to graduate from the academy first, Mother strikes her hard across the face. “I see we’ve wasted good coin on a subpar education. You forget yourself. A carriage will come for you in a week’s time, and you will be coming home.”
A summons from the headmaster follows Mother’s departure, turning Alice’s blood to ice. Headmaster’s summons are things of terror for students, and Alice has endured more visits than she cares to count.
“Your mother is displeased with my institution.” The headmaster’s breath is rank on her hair. “It seems you still need a lesson in keeping your thoughts to yourself. This will come off the night before you’re to leave.”
It’s the collar again. She hates the collar. Little girls are meant to be seen and not heard, but sometimes it is difficult to remember. Headmaster locks it in place and pets her hair.
Three days later, news of the headmaster dying in his bed tears through the population like fire through a dry field. Highborne Academy holds an air of ill-disguised festive cheer felt by all but some. Alice is in that scarce few, her mind feverishly working through the new problem presented to her. The collar – and all other magical punishment items – were made to only be used by Headmaster Hatchum. Officially, this was to prevent overzealous instructors from misusing them, but Alice always thought Headmaster simply enjoyed using them and didn’t want to share.
Now that he’s dead, there is no one to remove the collar. This fills Alice with raw panic if she thinks about it for more than a few minutes, so she endeavors not to think about it. No, what she thinks about instead is this: no one would miss her in this moment if she simply vanished. The academy is in disarray, and her parent’s carriage isn’t due for several days. Alice would rather wear the collar for the rest of her life than be shackled to someone like the Baron of Thread, whom she vaguely remembers as one who possesses intense arrogance and cold eyes.
This decides it. Alice is going to run away. She reasons she’ll be able to find someone along the way who is able to remove the collar. And then. And then? She doesn’t know, and that fills her with fear-tinged excitement.
She goes home. It’s the place they’d be least likely to look for her, and she needs funds for her travels. Alice thinks it’s the least her parents owe her. She’s always been sneaky, and her parents are complacent, so it’s no trouble to slip inside. The first stop is her room, or what’s left of it. Everything is in trunks, thankfully unlocked. She gathers what she needs and makes her way into Father’s study.
Little girls must be seen and not heard, but this often means adults forget the little girls are watching and listening to everything. The safe opens on well-oiled hinges, and Alice takes as much as she can.
She pauses outside the door of the sitting room when she hears Mother’s voice emanating from within.
“…ungrateful brat. After all we’ve done for her! What does Hatchum have to say for himself?”
“Precious little,” Father replies. “Seems the death of his brother caused a stir at the academy, and the girl slipped out amongst the chaos. No one realized until she was to leave, and they couldn’t find her.”
Mother sniffs, angry and unladylike. “Oh, curse that child. We should have left her with the other one.”
Other one? Alice steps closer to the door.
“We agreed, Mara, that we’d keep the good one for a marriage connection. Two girls were unnecessary, and we didn’t want the other one to ruin Alice’s disposition. We’ll try to get the girl back to be sure; this contract is too good not to spend a little more gold on the matter.”
The other one. Two girls. Alice whirls around and scurries back upstairs and up once more to the attic. Her mind is feverishly racing through her earliest memories, trying to find a scrap, a hint, of a sister amongst them. There might be something…but no, she needs to focus. She’s already lingered longer than planned. There: the baby trunk. Mother had shown Alice her baby clothes once before, on her seventh birthday. It’s the only time Alice can remember Mother spending time with her.
Miniscule dresses, bonnets, and booties. A bottle, a rattle…there. Two baby blankets, one green and the other purple. Alice has seen the purple one before, with her name carefully stitched into the corner, surrounded by morning glories. But the green one is new to her. On the corner, a spray lily of the valley is stitched around a name: Lily.
Breath catching, throat constricted by the collar, Alice stares at the blanket. Lily. She has a sister. Or, at least, she did at one point. And just like that, Alice knows what she’s going to do with her newfound freedom.