Page 13 of The Good Duke
At last,words.
Her friends speaking made things normal and kept her from dissolving into a puddle of panic.
Yes, it had been the impossible feat, one that none of the instructors bent on retaining their posts would have dared attempt and had gone out of their way to avoid.
The trio fell into lockstep, the heels of their serviceable boots clicking in time as they headed down the corridors toward their shared chambers. As they went, young women ducked their heads out of their rooms. Whispers followed in their wake.
And under any other circumstances but the current ones, it would have felt like a triumph, for Persephone had managed two impossibilities—knocking Mrs. Belden off-balance…and earning the respect of the attending students. Students whom she was oftentimes certain had entered into a pack to hate all the instructors with an equal ferocity.
The moment they reached their rooms, Agatha closed the door behind them.
While her friends squealed and spoke excitedly over one another about the grand feat they’d just witnessed, Persephone stood, her heart pounding, and took in this small room she’d shared with the two other women.
This little space, which had become the only home she’d known since her father’s passing.
The three narrow bedframes, each covered in a colorful quilt Gracie had made for each of them in a project that had taken the young woman three years to complete. The delicate porcelain vase she’d brought with her and filled daily with wildflowers from the gardens below her window called to her, and Persephone wandered over to the beloved piece.
She picked it up and caressed a finger over the pink and red roses painted upon the vase; those colors, once vibrant, had begun to fade.
Persephone returned it to the oak nightstand next to her bed.
They were such small things, and yet they’d made this cold place a home.
And now it was all gone, just another loss.
Her heart ached, and that pain proved a welcome distraction from the panic of figuring out what to do now.
“That was a…magnificent display, Persephone,” Gracie squealed, recalling her from her misery. “You went toe to toe with the Dragon!”
Persephone managed a smile. “I’m so happy you enjoyed it,” she drawled.
The diminutive young woman, of a height and frame to pass for a child, failed to hear the sarcasm Persephone had infused in those words.
Smiling, Gracie began to pace. “Never has it been done. Everyone has said it could not be done, and yet you have. You spoke up for yourself, and you didn’t cry or beg or wilt. You—”
Gracie stopped abruptly, her almost elfin-like features stricken, and Persephone knew it was the moment the gravity of what had transpired hit her.
“You were sacked,” Gracie whispered.
“Yes, there was that too,” Persephone said with a drollness at odds with the dread finally beginning to root around her insides, rising up past the adrenaline of her challenge to Mrs. Belden.
She’d been sacked.
Oh, God.
All the energy drained from Persephone’s limbs as she sank onto the edge of her lumpy mattress and wrinkled the beloved coverlet.
Her friends instantly took up a place on either side of her.
She briefly closed her eyes.
This was bad. This was…very, very bad.
There was no employment or references.
Persephone’s breath came in quick little spurts.
Agatha patted her on the back. “Nice and easy,” the other woman murmured.
