Emily Donahue

The acerbic expression melted away the second she smiled up at me. Like her brother, it was a beautiful smile, white and straight, but somehow more polished and affecting. One side of her mouth lifted further than the other, exposing more teeth on that side. With only a couple feet between us, I noticed too, a sheer layer of freckles smattered over her nose and cheeks, as if someone had painstakingly taking the time to deposit each one in just the right place. And the lively brown eyes were no ordinary brown, but flecked with gold and ringed with a tawny sunburst around the large black pupil.

“I’m Emily.” She held out her hand, nails painted white and each finger embellished with a large silver ring in either turquoise, obsidian, or rose quartz. I shook it lightly, hoping she didn’t notice how grossly sweaty my palms were. “And this”—she thumbed down—“is my lowly manservant, Jacob Donahue.”

Her brother responded by reaching over and yanking on her second toe, pulling hard until the knuckle cracked. As he rose, I saw that he was even more handsome up close. Both Donahues had inherited the same high forehead and slender nose; but unlike his sister, Jake’s eyes were a deep midnight blue, shrouded with long white lashes.

© Cara Rosalie Olsen