But...you could have whatever you wished."
"Exactly," he says, nuzzling my neck.
"But," I say, "you could turn stones to rubies or ride in a fine gentleman's carriage."
Kartik puts his hands on either side of my face. "To each his own magic," he says and kisses me again.

Perhaps this is how girls fall -- not in some crime of enchantment at the hands of a wicked ne'er-do-well, a grand before and after in which they are innocent victims who have no say in the matter. Perhaps they simply are kissed and want to kiss back. Perhaps they even kiss first. And why should they not?

But Gemma, you could change the world."
"That should take far more than my power," I say.
"True. But change needn't happen all at once. It can be small gestures."
"Moments. Do you understand?" He's looking at me differently now, though I cannot say how. I only know I need to look away...
We pass by the pools, where the mud larks sift. And for only a few seconds, I let the magic loose again.
"Oi! By all the saints!" a boy cries from the river.
"Gone off the dock?" an old woman calls. The mud larks break into cackles.
"'S not a rock!" he shouts. He races out of the fog, cradling something in his palm. Curiosity gets the better of the others. They crowd about trying to see. In his palm is a smattering of rubies. "We're rich mates! It's a hot bath and a full belly for every one of us!"
Kartik eyes me suspiciously. "That was a strange stroke of good fortune."
"Yes it was."
"I don't suppose that was your doing."
"I'm not sure I don't know what you mean," I say.
And that is how change happens. One gesture. One person. One moment at a time.

I know it. I know I shall make beastly mistakes, Father-"
"The world does not forgive mistakes so quickly, my girl." He sounds bitter and sad.
"If the world will not forgive me," I say softly, "I shall have to learn to forgive myself."
He nods in understanding.
"And how will you marry? Or do you intend to marry?"
I think of Kartik, and tears threaten. "I shall meet someone one day, as Mother found you.

I'm like everyone else in this stupid, bloody, amazing world. I'm flawed. Impossibly so. But hopeful. I'm still me.

What do you feel? I’ve never been asked this question once. None of us has. We aren’t supposed to feel. We’re British.