The Secret of the Emerald Sea by Heather Matthews Page B

homesick. Sometimes, she would wake in the night and wonder why she did not simply put on her shoes, walk out the door, and find her village. She did not understand why she stayed.
    By day, the pair told their fortunes either out on the cobblestones of the main square, or else inside the Crown of Thorns. By night, they retired to the quiet farmhouse and lit a cozy fire that fought the drafts coming through the aged, wooden walls. They talked of the festival to come, where they planned to extract as much money from the villagers as they could, and then perhaps move on to find Jane’s home.
    Jane felt the Cupid was reluctant to leave, but he told her he would, although not just yet. She was certain he was waiting for something to happen to them, and this made her uneasy. Jane often watched him gaze out into the snowy night, his blue-gray eyes penetrating the darkness. What did he hope to see?
    Jane always waited for the Cupid to transform again, but he never did. Sometimes, she stared into the eyes of the little boy, looking for the man she knew that night on the raft. The Cupid seemed to understand, but he would not relate to her as a man. He only spoke to her as he always had, and often, she burned with frustration and even anger. She longed to ask him why he did not change, but it seemed pointless. He was a secretive being, and there was no point in trying to change that. He would do what he would do.
    One day they sat in the town square, wrapped in donated sweaters and scarves to stay warm. The villagers told them of a play that would be performed in a theatre on Twelfth Night, and they were invited to go along. It had been so long since Jane had experienced any sort of culture, and the Cupid had never had that opportunity at all.
    Jane could hardly sleep with excitement. She had always loved the dramatic arts and wished she could be on the stage herself. When she had been a small girl, she’d been much too shy. Now, she had changed, and felt she could bring something of herself to a play or a song, but she did not know how to begin, and yet she longed to try.
    The night of the play came quickly, and it was clear and bright. The gentle snowfall whitened the sky, which was filled with glistening stars. The Cupid and Jane held hands as they walked along to the theatre. Jane had been encouraged by her little friend to buy a special dress. He explained that the fortunes they told did not make a lot of money for them, but that their income was sure and steady. Always, someone would pay, even a poor villager, for a glimpse of the future...and so she dipped into their purse filled with coins and bought a pretty frock to wear.
    Jane adored her dress. It was icy lavender with a full skirt that moved as she did. Its bodice was pure white lace with violet trim. Purple was her favorite color, and the Cupid threaded silken ribbons the color of fresh violets through her flaxen hair with his tiny fingers. “You must look beautiful tonight, Jane,” he whispered, smiling mysteriously.
    Jane was beautiful that night. Her green eyes glowed emerald, her lips were rosy, and her cheeks were bright with youth and excitement. Her slim body, with its barely developed curves, was shown off to perfection in the dress she wore. She felt some magic in the air, some sense of something in the future she must move toward. Her thoughts were scattered but pleasant as they traipsed along into town, her toes growing numb through thin leather shoes—for there was never enough money for everything they needed.
    The theatre was lit up with lanterns and the large windows glowed with light. The murmur of voices raised in happy chatter greeted them as they moved toward the front door. The merriment of Christmas was in everyone’s faces, and the atmosphere was dazzling.
    Jane opened the theatre door and smiled, her heart pounding strangely. Tonight would be a special night, she was sure of it. How she knew, she did not care to examine, but know, she