Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 96695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“What’s happened?”
“Mr. Cuthbert has hired me at the bookshop. He was impressed with the way I improved the binding on one of his treasured books. The pay isn’t much, but I’ll be selling books and rebinding some of the rarer ones in hopes of enticing nobles into shelling out some serious coins for pretty collectibles. He’s promised to give me a bonus percentage of the books we sell that I’ve improved the binding on.”
Despite Dorian’s worries, excitement bubbled up in his words. There was nothing Dorian loved more than books. It was fitting that his magical gift revolved around binding and repairing books.
Unfortunately, their mother was unlikely to see this as a good thing. How could Dorian find a nobleman to marry if he was working as a common bookseller? The best he could ever do would be another merchant or a merchant’s son. Not that there was anything wrong with that. It was just that Jessamine had tasted the rarefied air of the aristocracy, and now nothing else would be good enough for her children.
The only problem was that without one of them getting a job soon, they were going to be destitute and living on the streets. Forget marriage to a duke or baron.
“Let me worry about Mother. You focus on impressing Mr. Cuthbert,” Hugo reassured him.
“You sure?”
“I’ll handle it. Besides, I’ve been thinking about talking to Mrs. Weatherly to see if she’d take me on as an apprentice. Mother has an appointment with her seamstress tomorrow. That should take all day. Maybe I can sneak out.”
Mrs. Weatherly ran the finest glass-blowing workshop in the district, producing the very best wineglasses, vases, and pieces of art. Hugo’s magical gift was in the creation and manipulation of glass. Not valuable or special. Why couldn’t it have been in the creation of diamonds or gold? Then everyone would be eager to have him as a husband or son-in-law.
Most people might not think much of his magic, but it was a valuable skill. There were plenty of people in the world who would pay to have him make a set of unique and elegant wineglasses or even basic glass jugs. It was a good, sturdy magical gift.
At least he and Dorian had magic. Augustine was almost eighteen and had yet to exhibit even a spark of magic. Most people developed their gifts between the ages of twelve and sixteen. Mother kept claiming he was a late bloomer, but even she was struggling to hold on to that rationale as Augustine’s eighteenth birthday edged closer.
Of course, not everyone possessed a magic gift, but there was no stopping people from pitying or looking down on those who lacked magic. Augustine pretended not to care one whit, but Hugo knew he was trying to hide his pain from his family. Personally, Hugo thought Augustine’s grief over the loss of their father was hindering his magic, and now the worry about not having any magic was exacerbating the situation.
“You may want to hold off on chatting with Mrs. Weatherly,” Dorian advised, wincing.
Hugo had been in the middle of peeling off his jacket but stopped at Dorian’s tense words. “Why?”
“Mother somehow gained an invitation to the Winthrop Spring Gala.”
“What?” Hugo cried, his voice cracking. His knees gave out, and he sank toward his bed. Dorian lunged forward, catching his arm and holding him upright. His brother’s quick action was enough to jolt his brain awake, reminding him that he was still coated in mud and had no desire to spread that same mud onto his bedding.
“How? How could she have gotten such a coveted invitation? Our family has never traveled in the same circles as the Winthrops.” Hugo paced away from his bed, dropping his soiled jacket to the floor. Hopping on one foot, he tugged off a boot and tossed it aside with a heavy thud. “Lady Winthrop is a duchess and a close friend of the queen. Her Spring Gala is the party of the Season, and the guest list comprises only the best families of Frostbourne. How in the world did we get on that list?”
“Not we. You and Mother. That’s it. I’m not going, thank the gods for that minor miracle. As for how, I have no idea. I’m sure Mother pulled every last string and called in every favor she had left. Good luck. No pressure, of course.”
Hugo stared at his mud-covered clothes, wearing just one boot. He was the poor eldest son of a former renowned baker whose one skill lay in making glass flowers. It was all on his shoulders to save his family. If he found a rich, powerful husband, he would be able to use that newfound clout to pave an easier path for his brothers and secure a comfortable life for all of his family.
And if he failed, an apprenticeship to a glassblower would not be nearly enough to save his family from poverty and homelessness.