“Jane!” I stared at myself in the mirror. The dress my mother had chosen for me was pink and lacy. It came down to my knees and was covered in ruffles and lace. There was a matching lace ribbon in my hair. I had white tights on, and patent leather shoes. It was the kind of outfit that a princess in a fairy tale would wear.

I hated it.

“Jane! Come on, we’re going to be late!” my father shouted up the stairs.

“I’m coming!” I yelled back. I glared at my reflection, willing the ribbons and lace to fall off the dress, the tights to rip, the shoes to scuff, anything to allow me to change out of the monstrosity.

I ran my hands over the dress, as if by merely touching the dress it would spoil. No such luck. I stuck my tongue out at the girl in the mirror before turning and running down the stairs.

I skidded to a halt in the front hall where my twin brother, Alec, tugged uncomfortably at a bow-tie that topped off his suit. His hair was combed back and he looked just as uncomfortable as I felt. He crossed his eyes at me. I stifled a giggle as our parents entered.

“Jane, Alec! You two look adorable!” my mother exclaimed. I gagged audibly at her perfume and my father frowned.

“Jane, you must act more ladylike if you ever wish to marry.” I shuddered. I had no desire at this point in my life to even think about marriage. My father sighed disapprovingly and glanced at his pocket watch. “We should go, we don’t want to be late.”

As stifled as I felt, done up in all the lace and frills, I felt a thrill of excitement as I skipped toward the piazzo dei priori (A/N hope that’s the right spelling…). It was in the center of Volterra, the logical place to celebrate St. Marcus’ day.

As we approached the square, the crowd grew denser. We were torn away from our parents, and I clung tightly to Alec’s hand. He squeezed it reassuringly, and we smiled at each other. Our parents had granted us each a small amount of money to spend, and as long as we met them by the fountain at noon we had the morning to do as we pleased.