Free Other Lives by Silvia Moreno-Garcia Page B

 
    “Then?” he pressed on.
    She gave him a determined, hard look. “My uncle must have mentioned I do not have a dowry. It’s a sad situation for any woman. If Darius does not wed me I’d like a dowry upon my return home. And the coins you gave my uncle as a bribe do not count.”
    “Well,” Nikolaos said, chuckling. “If you help me you can have your dowry. You’ll be charming, you’ll be sweet, you’ll be talkative. Do you agree?”
    “I’ll do my best,” she said. 
     
    ***
     
    In the dream, for it must be a dream, the world was burning. As the walls around Miranda were consumed, she stood perfectly still admiring the raging inferno.
    The flames licked at her dress but she felt no fear. In fact, she felt no heat. The chamber was strangely cold and she rubbed her arms, shivering. 
    How odd , she thought as a tapestry went up in flames and dark smoke clouded her gaze. 
    She noticed that her left hand had grown black and her fingers when she moved them collapsed into ashes. It was only then that she felt the searing heat and rushed towards the window. She jumped in a vain attempt of escape from the conflagration. 
    It was a long fall and through it she kept burning, her hair now a crown of fire. 
    Miranda woke up and stared at the ceiling. For a moment she did not remember where she was, and then it returned like the tide. The ship. The trip. Everything. 
    The folly , she thought.
    It was still three days until they reached port and Miranda pulled the covers over her head. 
     
    2 
     
    The ornate mirror reflected the full length figure of the woman, her fingers running over the pearl necklace.
    “I don’t like it.”
    “It belonged to my grandmother. These are black pearls,” Nikolaos said.
    “No, it’s lovely,” Miranda removed the necklace. “I meant meeting him. We just arrived yesterday.”
    “And he invited me to attend the salon today. You don’t refuse Darius.”
    “I’m not used to it. In Nortre, our household is small. It’ll be so different. Besides, I’ll stand out in that dress.” 
    Nikolaos had to agree. Miranda’s dresses were pitiful and worn gowns. They would not do. He made a mental note to commission some appropriate garments. 
    “I’m surprised Lord Stesh lets you be seen like this,” he said, glancing at the yellow outfit the maid was now holding up for Miranda to inspect.
    “What do you know about him?” she asked, her voice turning unkind. 
    “I know he is very proud and very concerned about the way his family is perceived.”
    “I’ve never met my grandfather. My mother’s family … he said it wasn’t a suitable match. He doesn’t speak to us.”
    Miranda shook her head and the maid sighed, turning to put away the ugly yellow rags in favor of something else. 
    “Don’t mention that to Darius,” he said. “Those messy little details…I’d leave them until the wedding date is set.” 
    “You really think I’m going to marry that man?”
    “When my cousin told me about you I knew you were the perfect bride for Darius.”
    “Poor, desperate and pretty?” she inquired.
    Miranda looked at Nikolaos without turning around, instead gazing at his reflection. 
    The maid had now picked a serious black velvet. It was too simple a dress for Darius who preferred much more elaborate gowns, but Nikolaos figured it an efficient solution. 
    “That,” he decided quickly. “And the pearls.”
    Miranda, busy putting a couple of delicate silver hair combs in place, frowned.
     
    ***
     
    She stepped into the room hanging on to Nikolaos like a woman afraid of drowning. Miranda felt silly with her hair pinned up and her expensive pearls, walking through a crowd of loud strangers. 
    In Nortre she stayed at home as much as possible. Salons, even if she had been invited – which was never the case – were strictly forbidden. Her aunt advocated piousness and needlework instead. 
    She wondered what her aunt would say now, her hand linked to the arm of a