Autumn straightened her legs in the water and watched the red and white angelfish kiss her toes. She giggled and wiggled her big toe back and forth, enjoying the spring breeze that tickled her cheeks and the way everything smelled like her favorite peony flowers.
Her mechanical butterfly flitted in the air around her. Its shiny brass wings flapped, creating music. She had six different M-butterflies, and six was one too few. Seven would be the perfect set.
“Autumn.”
She sighed, not wanting to discuss a very important topic. Stenson grabbed her hand, gently squeezed it, and repeated her name once more.
“Oh, Stenson, why do we have to ruin tonight with such talk?”
“Because tomorrow begins the last day of us.”
She looked over at him, tears already sprinkling the corners of her eyes. “Don't say that, Stenson. Things can change, maybe if I explained to Mother or Mammy.”
He grazed the side of her cheek with his other hand, his eyes never leaving hers. “You know that we can never be more than what we are right now.”
Autumn closed her eyes and shook her head. “I don't want to marry someone else. Turning sixteen should be the happiest day of my life, not the worst.”
Stenson wrapped his arms around her. “I know.”
The beige ruffles of her dress touched the pond, soaking the delicate lace. Autumn made no attempt to lift the dress out of the water; instead, she stared at the darkening fabric and kicked her feet back and forth.
“Autumn,” Stenson said. “You're getting wet.”
“I don't care about a frilly dress.”
With handmade lace ruffles and an ivory-white corset studded with sparkling green buttons, it was more than frilly. A designer from a foreign land, the land of a potential suitor, had sent an assortment of new fashions for the princess to wear: gowns bustled in the back with a patch-worked bolero, leather straps with brass buttons on a tiny hat, and corsets in black velvet with stitched birds on the lacing.
It was the corsets she hated the most; too much constriction for a girl of her vigor.
With a resented sigh, Autumn stood, snatching her dress out of the water. Stenson held her elbow with a gentle touch, and she leaned against him. She breathed in the sandalwood scent of his shirt and counted the five buttons that trailed up to his collar.
“Let's run away,” Autumn said. “Tonight.”
“And where would we go?” He pulled her back just enough to gaze into her eyes. “We would be hunted. You're a princess. You can't run away.”
“I don't want to marry anyone else,” she said again, repeating the inevitable. “How will we be together?”
Stenson had no answer. It had been a question he pondered almost every day. He had nothing to offer and no land to call his own. The king would never honor such a request from such a lowly fellow, but Stenson loved Autumn Rose with every breath, and he would not lose hope, not yet.
“The ball is tomorrow,” Autumn said softly. She stared at the water, wishing for an answer or a miracle. “Father plans to introduce me, and I'm supposed to find my future husband.”
Stenson winced, but said nothing.
“I should tell them.” Autumn turned to face Stenson. “They love you. Surely, they'll understand.”
“Being with you is treason. We shouldn't even be here, out in the open.”
The mechanical butterfly fluttered toward one of the marble statues near the pond. It landed on the maiden's outstretched hand. Autumn slid out of Stenson's grasp and turned the little lever that shut off the insect. While Stenson may have feared her father, she certainly did not.
“I know what I must do.” A finality filled her words as she spoke.
“I don't know what you're planning, but don't do it.”
Autumn plucked her M-butterfly off the statue and leaned up to kiss Stenson's cheek. “You worry too much.”
His emerald green eyes widened, and he ran his hands through his short-cropped, crimson hair. “What do you plan on doing?”
With a wide smile, Autumn replied, “Securing our future.”