Chapter Seven
ERABELLA - LAST YEAR
“You ungrateful bitch.”
The sound of Ragnall’s palm cracking against my cheek echoed off our basement walls, but I didn’t let the sharp sting faze me. I had succeeded, my stepfather believing I had stolen some of his stash and used it to fuel my own addiction.
It wasn’t that hard to deceive him, really. I had studied his behavior for years, knowing just what symptoms to feign to make him believe his affliction affected me the same.
What a moron.
“You live in MY house for FREE!” he roared, his rank breath forcing its way into my nostrils as spit flew from his mouth. “And you think you can use my shit? Steal my supply—the very thing that keeps a roof over your head?!”
Wow. He almost sounded like he believed he was a good man. I lived here for free, as if that wasn’t by design. He never allowed Mabel or me to get jobs. Never wanted us to have a copper to our name.
Never wanted us to have a way out.
I picked at my skin, having given myself just enough marks to persuade him. Not too many, however, as I wanted to look as put together as possible for the event that inspired this whole facade.
“I-I just needed…needed a bit—”
“A BIT?!” He roughly grabbed the collar of my shirt, slamming me back into the concrete wall. “You cost me eighty silver pieces!”
Fifty, actually.
No, I had not given myself a thiloxal addiction. I had sold a pouch worth to a man up the road who’d stopped by our home several times. I knew lowballing him would secure the purchase, and I’d promised I’d give him deals like that more often if he kept my secret.
I didn’t plan on coming back.
I lowered my head, pulling the hair at my temples like my mother did.
Ragnall heaved a deep sigh before releasing my shirt. “You will earn that money back one way or another,” he grumbled. “Now, get upstairs. Pack your shit.”
I had to refrain from grinning in victory. I lifted my wide eyes to him. “Pack…?”
“Like hell I’m leaving you here with my supply. You will travel with Mabel and me to Otacia. You’ll stay in whatever inn we get while she attends the ball.”
“B-but how will I…”
“PACK NOW!” he yelled in my face, and I quickly scrambled upstairs.
I’d done my research on Otacia—on what luxury shops they had. A kingdom separated by class, with a dress shop in what was called the Inner Ring.
It was wishful thinking, sneaking into Prince Silas La’Rune’s betrothal ball and somehow securing a marriage. Truthfully, I wanted one evening of normalcy. One of hope. I’d even found an eye mask, the sleek black material simple but effective.
I’d never been to a masquerade ball, and I knew Mabel was especially excited for it.
Guilt threatened to make me back out of my decision…
but regardless of who the Prince proposed to, I was not coming back to Kalrael.
I would live on the streets of the Outer Ring, perhaps become a nomad, and make a life in the forests.
I couldn’t live in this house another moment.
2 weeks later
“We should’ve roomed in the Outer Ring,” Mabel muttered to herself as I secured the clasps of her burgundy gown. She sneered at me over her shoulder. “Your behavior is humiliating.”
I said nothing, avoiding her eye contact like I usually did. My sister stopped loving me a long time ago. Plus, I didn’t blame her for being embarrassed by my disheveled appearance or heavy eyes. She didn’t know it was an act either.
“She won’t be bothering anyone from inside this room,” Ragnall said as he entered our bedroom, brow raised at me. “Isn’t that correct?”
Ragnall was a disgusting pig, but it amazed me how he was able to put himself together. How easily he could trick everyone around him. His salt-and-pepper hair was cropped short and styled back; his mustache and beard were freshly groomed.
Mabel’s long, dark strands were down, framing her face in soft waves, pinned back on one side with a golden barrette. She always had such beautiful hair. My blonde hair was pretty, too, but I never let it grow long. I felt too guilty…
“Correct,” I replied, my hands falling back to my sides. “You look wonderful.”
My sister said nothing as she stepped toward the full-length mirror in the corner of the room, securing her feathered golden eye mask over her face.
“Come on,” Ragnall grumbled, striding toward the door. “We’re late for dinner, and we can kiss your chance with the Prince goodbye.”
I knew I couldn’t manage to sneak into the extravagant feast hosted tonight. Ragnall would lose his mind—have me thrown out in an instant. But during the dancing? Ball gowns, music, and plenty of drinks? I could blend in. I was sure of it.
Mabel grasped her ball invitation in her gloved hands. “Where’s yours?” she asked our stepfather. He reached into the breast pocket of his tunic and waved it at my sister.
I suppose I wasn’t technically sneaking in. I had been mailed an invite as well. I had to fish it out of our garbage, considering Ragnall had no intention of allowing me to go. The crumpled-up parchment was inside my bra, unbeknownst to them.
No one said anything else to me before promptly leaving, and I gave them about thirty seconds before I raided Mabel’s makeup stash.
My plan was unhinged, unrealistic, and yet I had nothing to lose.
Best case, I sneak into the ball and convince the Prince to marry me; worst case, I would be arrested and spend my days in the dungeon.
Win-win.
Odds were that I could slip in during the ball, go unnoticed, and afterward live out my days in the Outer Ring as a beggar. I had no intention of returning home.
After smudging on some dark eyeliner and coating mascara on my lashes, I applied my sister’s deep red lipstick, rubbing my lips together to spread the shade.
I never wore makeup, certainly not around Mabel, so even without the eye mask, I felt unrecognizable.
I never did anything to make myself look beautiful.
I tilted my head side to side, studying my short, blonde bob. I also never styled my hair differently. Perhaps those at the dress shop could provide inspiration.
While Mabel and Ragnall feasted with the elite, I would purchase my own gown with the money I earned from selling that thiloxal.
I took a bracing breath, exiting the room and hurrying out of the inn.
The dress emporium was thankfully only a few minutes' walk away. A bell chimed from above when I entered, and as the wooden door creaked open, revealing an empty store, I realized I had no idea if they’d even have a dress available in my size.
Or if the amount of silver I had would actually be enough.
The brows of the middle-aged woman standing behind the counter raised as I lingered inside, anxiously tucking my hair behind my ear. “How can I help you?” she asked, scanning me from head to toe.
Fortunately, Ragnall’s image mattered to him, so I looked polished enough not to seem out of place in this establishment. But I still felt frazzled. “I am in need of a dress for this evening,” I replied as confidently as I could.
Her hazel eyes flared. “This evening?” she questioned nervously. “Usually we tailor our dresses, and that can take weeks—”
“It doesn’t have to be perfect!” I blurted, then impatiently glanced at the handful of dresses on display. “Just presentable.”
The dark-haired lady rounded the counter. “Is this for Prince Silas’s betrothal?” she hushed, and I tore my stare from the gowns to meet her shocked expression. “You wish to wear one of my dresses to the castle?”
The Inner Ring housed the middle-class…I guess it made sense that any gowns worn in front of royalty came from the Center, not here. “Yes.” I gave a shy smile. “I am unprepared and want to look my best for it.”
Her mouth popped open, and then she immediately sifted through the rack of dresses in the center of the room. “You’re a slim thing…surely there is something here that will fit.”
“Thank you,” I added in quickly, and the lady—Esther, she told me—went on a hunt to find me a dress. She had insisted I sit in an ornate, cushiony chair while I waited.
“My son is a soldier,” she supplied, a proud grin tugging at her lips, “but I’ve never been to the castle. Certainly never had one of my gowns there. Oh! Save for Queen Ryia’s purchases a few times…” Her expression gradually fell. “Back in the day.”
Everything I’d heard about the late queen had been positive. “You’ve been in Otacia for a while?”
Esther grinned as she fingered through the hangers. “All my life. I have four daughters and a son. And my husband, of course.” The doorbell chimed, and Esther’s eyes lit up as she glanced behind me. “Speaking of my children.”
A beautiful woman strolled inside, her shiny, brown hair resembling her mother’s. Her bright blue gaze was mesmerizing against her golden-tan skin—a similar shade to mine. She gave me a polite wave, and then Esther an apologetic wince. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
“Your timing is perfect,” Esther insisted, gesturing a hand in my direction. “This lovely lady is looking for a dress for tonight’s ball.”
Esther’s daughter's eyes shot wide. “The ball tonight?”
I cringed. “I procrastinate, as you can see.”
“Don’t be rude,” Esther mumbled to the girl. “Introduce yourself.”
“Oh! Right.” She smiled softly, extending her hand. “Katerina Aubeze.”
I accepted the gesture, shaking her hand. “Erabella Dreason.”
Katerina set her crossbody bag on the front counter. “Roland was playing at Hidden Rhythm tonight—the performances got delayed due to today’s tourism.”
“That brother of yours is a talent…and a handful.” Esther huffed a sigh, frowning in contemplation as she scanned her selection. Unsatisfied with the options she’d found, she suddenly exclaimed, “OH!”
Both Katerina and I startled, and Esther rubbed the back of her neck.
“My apologies, my Lady, I just remembered one of my gowns I am working on—it’s in the back!” she enthusiastically sputtered.
Katerina gasped, her hands going to her mouth. “The red one?!”