Page 58 of A Snowfall of Silver

I stumble down the passageway, trying to get my bearings. I try a couple of the rooms off to one side, but neither of them open. Eventually I come to one that does, and I know exactly where I am. The costume cupboard is blessedly familiar, even in the dark, with only the pale silver light from the moon filtering through the high windows.

“Kit?” I whisper, moving through the clothes rails. “Are you in here?”

There’s no answer, but suddenly a hand closes around my wrist, and I squeak in alarm.

“Shhhh!” Kit laughs. “You’re the first one to find me. Come back here and hide.”

I manage my own shaky laugh as I push the clothes aside and take Kit’s hand as he helps me through to the gap between the rail and the wall. There’s just enough space to sit down, and with the clothes pulled back in front of us, we’re very nearly invisible.

“A good hiding place,” I say quietly. “Very cosy.”

“I thought so.” Kit turns to look at me, his face half in shadow. “Is something wrong?” he asks sharply.

“Yes,” I say, rubbing my arms. “Actually, no. Not really. I had a bit of a run-in with Russ. He doesn’t take rejection very well.”

There is a silence and I feel Kit stiffen. “Did he hurt you?

“No! I feel silly making a fuss about it. He just – said some things that weren’t very nice.” I take a deep breath. “I don’t know why it bothered me so much. He’d been drinking, and—”

“I could wring his neck,” Kit mutters. “There’s no need for you to make excuses for him. If he made you feel uncomfortable or frightened then he was in the wrong.”

“He – he said I should be careful about getting a reputation, that it could hurt my chances,” I manage, my voice small. “I suppose I am quite inexperienced.”

“You’re clever, and you’re talented and beautiful,” Kit says. “You don’t need to listen to anything Russell Whitmore has to say on the matter. He’s nothing but a pretty face, and deep down he knows it.”

Kit thinks I’m clever and talented and beautiful. Or maybe he is just trying to cheer me up. Either way, I feel better. “All the same,” I say firmly, “I think I might be done with romance.”

Kit snorts. “That’s because you’ve been romancing entirely the wrong person.”

“Do you think so?”

“Yes, I do.”

“You sound very sure.”

“I am, in fact, absolutely certain.”

We sit quietly then, side by side in the dark, surrounded by silk and tulle and taffeta.

“Do you think the others will ever find us?” I ask.

“Perhaps I’m just too good at hiding.”

“Well, I found you.”

“That’s true.”

I drop my head on to his shoulder and he rests his cheek against the top of my head. I like it here, I think. I would like to stay in this dark little corner for ever. Clever and talented and beautiful. Those words settle around me like sparks of light – warm and comforting.

“I think you’re clever and talented and beautiful too,” I say dreamily. I feel him smile against my hair.

“That’s nice,” he says.

I pull away from him then and turn so that I can look him in the eye. Our faces are close together, almost nose to nose. In the smudged, silver moonlight Kit’s eyes look almost pewter, the irises wide and dark. I’ve never been this close to him before. I could count the golden freckles scattered across his nose, sketch constellations in them. My heart is thumping, and when Kit lifts a gentle hand to push a strand of hair away from my face, I almost jump out of my skin.

“Freya,” he murmurs, my name holding a question in it.

“Yes,” I whisper, and I’m unsure if I’m asking a question myself, or answering one.