The Infinity Circus

Chapter Two

It went without saying that Alice Canterbury disliked family mealtimes. Plastering her face into a fake smile, forcing herself to swallow the food that the servants piled onto her plate, staring her mother down as they surveyed one another without speaking, like silent serpents waiting to strike. But it was unclear who would strike first. Family mealtimes were at best a nuisance, at worst a potential war ground. Thus, she tried to avoid them as much as possible. However, thanks to her mother's constant overbearing need for Alice to be within her sight at all times, she often found it difficult to slip away unnoticed.

Today was an impossible day to try and sneak away. So there she sat, rigidly in her seat and staring hard at the carpet, hoping the world could fade for a few minutes. The problem was, her mother's eagle-like observant eyes refused to waver. It made the skin prick up on the back of her neck. And her father, much to her annoyance, kept trying to make small talk.

"So, Alice dear," he tried. "How has your private tutoring been going?" She shut him down with an icy glare, and he desisted.

"Alice, at least give the man the respect of a response," Elizaveta said sharply. "He's your father. Don't ignore him."

Alice let no emotions show on her face. "Fine. It's going well. Is that enough, mother?" she said disdainfully, not even bothering to look at her father.

She also noted that her mother used 'the man' instead of 'your father', something that had become far too recent in their family. She used this term whenever she was angry at him, wanting to demean or separate herself from him, which had become far too often over the past few years. Alice didn't care much about their marital strife- she couldn't care less what happened to their marriage, but she disliked how negatively it impacted her siblings, most specifically Phillip. She felt a surge of hatred for them both for every time she had to pull a sobbing Phillip from his fetal position under a table in the aftermath of one of their arguments. Arguments that Elizaveta most often won, judging by her husband's absolute fear of her.

Elizaveta pursed her lips at Alice's still full plate. "Are you certain you aren't going to eat?"

Alice stared stoically. "I haven't an appetite."

Elizaveta pursed her lips. "I suppose it'll at least help you lose some weight," she said curtly. "Starve in stubbornness, if you wish."

Alice's hands tightened against the velvet fabric of her dress, nearly tearing it by the seams. "I bet you'd love that, wouldn't you?"

Elizaveta's hand slammed down onto the hard table, nearly tipping her wine across the white cloth in the process. "Enough of your rudeness, Alice! It's almost your damned birthday. You ought to watch your mouth before I have a servant wash it out with soap, or I'll do it myself."

Emmalyn's smirk at Alice's telling-off was wide as a speckled toad's, dripping gloating pleasure. Emmalyn seemed to enjoy when Alice was being berated by their mother- as if it was her way of confirming that she stayed Elizaveta's favorite.

"Go ahead," Alice said coolly. "But how would it look for the Queen of Burlington to do such a thing to her own daughter, and just days away from her birthday no less." She let the word birthday hang bitter on her tongue.

Her mother heaved a sharp sigh, perfect teeth gritted in irritation. "You're on thin ice, Alice. Thin, thin ice." Her eyes were much sharper, more dangerous. A clear sign of her composure slipping.

"Don't be rude to mother, Alice!" shrieked Emmalyn from across the table. "Mother is right- you're about as polite and graceful as those dumb stable ponies who haven't been trained."