Free Lady Churchill's Rosebud Wristlet No. 20 by Kelly Link Gavin J. Grant Page B

should concentrate on my breathing, but I can't stop noticing things like the lack of green. There are no weeds in the enormous, brick-paved expanse, no unruly plants sneaking up around the stones like they do on the sidewalks. The trees that stretch from next door over the high stone wall are brown and dying.
    "They steal your oxygen,” Granddad explained testily, over dinner, when I asked him about the lack of plants in and around the house—and returned to his steak.
    Later, when I asked Lao about plants, he accidentally told me the truth. “Plants turn sunlight into oxygen and food for themselves. It's called photosynthesis."
    I thought surely this was the most beautiful and terrible thing I had ever heard. It was like real magic, turning all of that bright into something you could use. But there are no plants here to study, or books on the subject, and I am afraid to go back to the bookstore. I tell myself I am afraid of getting caught, but it is really Winnie's deep brown eyes that terrify me. I stumble. simply thinking about that intense stare, and Lao frowns.
    "You are not concentrating,” he says, with a disappointed sigh.
    "What's a physicist?” I ask to distract him and he comes to a stop.
    "A physicist studies the forces of the universe and their inner workings,” he says without hesitating because Lao knows everything about everything, even though his answers aren't usually very helpful.
    "Forces ..... like armies and economics?” These are the only forces I remember from my studies.
    He folds his arms and looks at me thoughtfully for a long time, which surprises me. I am sure he knows everything I am going to say before I actually say it. “No. Forces like gravity and electricity."
    "Oh.” That doesn't sound like the countries rolled up that Jack was talking about, but I remember, now, lessons about gravity and the hidden things that hold us down and together and connect us.
    "Maybe it's time we moved on to Calculus,” he says. “If you're interested in physics. That could prove useful. A prince should know about the universal forces. I think your grandfather will approve."
    I nod, a wild sort of joy erupting around and inside me at the thought of understanding this other strange language Jack and Winnie speak with each other.
    Lao's eyebrows rise and he uncrosses his arms. “But first, movement and arts.” And we begin the slow, steady build of the dance that isn't.
    * * * *
    That night, after dinner, I sit alone trying to remember when I was a girl. There aren't many mirrors in Granddad's house and the only one I'm allowed is a tiny, blurry square that is barely big enough to check the knot in my tie. My body doesn't belong to me anymore. I am a prince, which means that everything I am belongs to my country.......and Granddad. I remember Mama's softness and I've seen women on the street in tight tops that squeeze, but my chest looks nothing like that—even in the bath, without the suit. The few times I've seen myself in shop windows I was all angles and straight lines. But Winnie thought I was a girl and maybe still does.
    I slowly remove the jacket and loosen the tie, intending to use the small mirror to find some answers, but the lights flicker. It is only for a moment, but the moment is terrifying in its newness and momentary dark. The last time something new happened, I never saw Mama again.
    I run out of my room to look for Lao. There is no one, not even a servant in the hall. I can hear the impossible sounds of shouting downstairs and I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up. The silence here is like the light—incessant and invasive—no one can stop it but Granddad and he wouldn't.
    There is a loud crash and I drop the suit jacket and tie to the floor. I'd rather take the punishment than miss whatever is happening.
    When I reach the landing above the entrance foyer, they are all standing there very still. Six of them. Lao and Granddad on one side, four gray-clad strangers facing