“Well, we’d best be getting back,” Jérôme said. “Horses won’t feed themselves.”

I reluctantly slid off Fleur’s back, wishing she were wearing a bridle so that I might gallop off wherever my heart took me.

“I’ll bring her back when she’s ready,” Chris promised, patting the horse on the neck. “I’ll get her trained up good for you. Then I’ll take you riding.”

I smiled and nodded, saying all the things I should, but my mind was wrapped up in irritation with itself. Why couldn’t I be satisfied with what I had? Why did I want more when I knew that leaving would hurt those I loved?

The Girards said their goodbyes, and I silently watched them trot up the road on their horses, Fleur trailing along behind.

“What do you have planned for the rest of your afternoon?” my father asked. “Your sister said she’s doing the rest of your chores as a birthday gift.”

I smirked at Joss’s white lie, but didn’t out her. She was chasing my pony around the field in a fruitless attempt to catch him, so I suspected a lot of my chores would be waiting for me the following day. But my amusement didn’t last. I considered the options available to me, including stealing my pony back and riding to town to visit my best friend Sabine, trekking up to the pond to see if I could catch a trout, or sneaking over to the outskirts of the rockslide to see if I could find a glint of gold. On any other day, all three would be appealing, but I was reluctant to undertake anything that would take me away from the farm. What if she came while I was gone? What if she left because I wasn’t waiting?

My father raised one eyebrow. “Well?”

“Things,” I replied, hoping my tone suggested I had something better in mind than waiting in the ditch until dusk. Holding up my new long skirts, I started down the road.

“Cécile!”

I turned to look over my shoulder at him.

“She don’t wake much before noon. Will be a few more hours yet before you can expect her.”

I wandered through the forest, always making certain the road was within sight. There was only one way she could pass, and I wasn’t willing to risk missing a moment of her visit. Anticipation kept me moving, and I danced through the trees, singing random notes and attempting to imitate the birds flying overhead. My voice echoed through the woods, and closing my eyes, I imagined how it would sound in a theatre, what it would be like knowing the right songs to sing. What it would feel like having an audience listening.

Finding a patch of springy moss, I lay down, watching the clouds pass over the treetops through lids that grew heavier as the sun passed over the sky.

I don’t know how long I slept before the sound of cantering hooves and jingling harness startled me awake. Scrambling to my feet, I tore toward the road, heedless of the branches clutching at my hair and dress. Through the trees, flashes of grey and brown were visible, the carriage moving much faster than was advisable on the rough dirt track. I stumbled out onto the road just after the horses passed, and the coachman gave me an angry glare though none of the animals had spooked.