Chapter 8
Sia
Sia had braced herself for resistance from the girls. Not tantrums so much, but coolness and distance. The sort of pushback that made a woman feel like a guest in her own home.
Instead, weeks into their new reality, she woke each morning to the soft patter of bare feet racing down the corridor.
“Sia?”
Stella never knocked.
She burst into the bedroom at dawn as though Sia might vanish overnight, with tangled curls and a lopsided nightgown, her eyes bright with the affection that only the youngest could give so freely.
“I’m here,” Sia would murmur and pull the blankets back.
And Stella would launch herself forward without hesitation. Lucas was usually an early riser, but if he was still in the bed, Stella would take turns snuggling each of them.
That was how the mornings had begun lately, with tiny arms flung around Sia’s waist, a small face pressed into her shoulder as if anchoring them both.
Luna followed more quietly but with her own rituals. She arrived carrying ribbons and hair clips.
Sia had learned that Luna used hair as a coping mechanism when it came to her feelings.
So Sia sat, perfectly still while little fingers tugged and wove with intense concentration.
The braids were usually crooked and uneven, and Sia often sent up a small prayer of thanks to her mother for raising her without a sensitive scalp.
She usually wore the treasures until after breakfast when the girls went for their studies. When she fixed them, Sia always made sure to at least incorporate the same ribbons and clips.
Celeste had been the hardest to figure out. Careful, observant Celeste had watched.
She watched the way Sia knelt to Stella’s height instead of calling her over.
The way she thanked Luna for every ribbon, even when they clashed horribly with her outfit of the day.
The way she never corrected their mother’s portrait placement in the east hall if the girl planted kisses on it and left it not quite straight.
But during afternoon walks through the gardens, she fell into step beside Sia. Close enough that their sleeves brushed. Close enough that it felt deliberate.
The invitation to their uncle’s wedding had arrived with gold embossing and excessive enthusiasm.
Their father’s younger brother, Liam, was tying the knot in the castle gardens.
“We’ll have the royal tailor make something suitable,” Celeste commented that evening at dinner. Royal protocol follower as always.
Sia glanced at her. “Or,” she ventured carefully, “we could go shopping.”
Three pairs of eyes lifted.
“Shopping?” Stella breathed as though Sia had suggested flying around the room like Peter Pan.
Luna perked up instantly. “Stores with the big windows?”
“Yes,” Sia said with a smile. “With big windows.”
Celeste’s fork paused midair. “Why would we do that? It’s not the way we usually do things for a big event. It’s what we did for your wedding.”
There it was, that instinct for doing things the way they had always been done.
“Because,” Sia replied gently, “there’s nothing wrong with doing things differently, and sometimes the choosing is the best part.”
Celeste frowned. “The tailor would allow us to choose. Tell her Papa. Tell her that’s how we do it.”
“Yes,” Sia agreed but refused to look at Lucas.
She realized too late that she probably should have run the idea by him first. She sighed and continued on.
She was already in it too deep. “But he brings bolts of fabric to a fitting room and basically tells you what you want. You sit. You nod. He nods. It’s all very dignified. ”
Stella was already bouncing. “Let’s go.”
“And shopping with other people?” Luna pressed.
“There will probably be other people. And it’s loud,” Sia admitted. “And crowded. And full of mirrors that make you question your life choices, especially when you try on something that doesn’t match you at all. It’s even worse if you try on something too small and then can’t get it back off.”
Stella giggled.
“But,” Sia went on, “it’s also full of surprises. And sometimes you find something you didn’t even know you were hoping for.”
Celeste studied her. “Our mother never took us shopping.”
The air shifted.
“I know,” she said softly. “I’m not trying to replace anything. I just thought that maybe we could make something new.” She pointed at Celeste. “And just a little fyi, your mother loved shopping when she was a kid. Our mother always took us out in the crazy, wild retail world.”
Lucas shrugged. “Sounds like a good idea to me.”
Celeste finally nodded. “Fine.”
Sia didn’t miss the little glint in the girl’s eyes that maybe, quite possibly, she was a bit curious.
Crystafalls biggest clothing store was everything Sia had promised. Bright awnings, open doors, and huge plate-glass windows. Stella spun in circles the moment they stepped inside the entrance.
Luna ran her hands over every rack like she was greeting old friends. Celeste stood still and took it all in without a word.
Sia moved to her side. “Do you hate it?”
“I don’t hate it,” Celeste replied. “It is… chaotic.” There was interest in her demeanor though.
“Yes,” Sia agreed. “It is.”
A saleswoman approached with a bright smile as she would any customer, unfazed by titles or posture. “Looking for something special?”
Sia suspected the woman didn’t even know who they were. The girls weren’t always in the public’s eyes, and it was unusual for royalty to just be out shopping.
“We need dresses for our uncle’s wedding,” Luna announced.
“How romantic! Well, you ladies have come to the right place.” She pointed to a section of the store. “You will probably want to start over there. That’s where our smaller sizes are.”
Celeste blinked at the informality. Sia wanted to giggle at the lack of bows and curtsies that the girls were used to. She breathed a sigh of relief when Celeste started to take interest in the racks of brightly colored dresses.
Luna disappeared first behind a curtain with an armful of pastel silk garments. Stella called off any assistance and used the fitting room next. She emerged in something entirely too large and declared herself “a sea princess” because of the blues and greens that made the dress look like a mermaid.
Sia didn’t correct Stella’s overdramatic posing. Instead, she clapped and laughed. It was all about having fun.
When it was finally her turn, Celeste chose something practical. She stepped out in a pale blue dress that was plain and predictable.
“Is this appropriate?” she asked.
Sia tilted her head. “It is,” she agreed.
Celeste’s shoulders stiffened slightly. “But?”
Sia shrugged. “But, it looks like something you would wear to school.”
Stella gasped. “That’s not a wedding dress!”
“It’s not my wedding,” Celeste said sharply.
Sia met her eyes calmly. “You’re allowed to enjoy things, Celeste.”
“I do enjoy things.”
“Name one,” Luna challenged.
Celeste opened her mouth but then closed it. The silence that followed spoke volumes.
Sia stepped closer. “When was the last time you chose something simply because you liked it?”
Celeste swallowed. “I don’t… remember.”
And there it was. Not rebellion. Not resistance. Just a child who had been trying very hard to be grown.
“Okay. I want you to try on one dress that you like just because. Forget about the wedding or school or whatever royal thing you have to do, and try on something just because it’s fun. What’s your favorite color?”
When Celeste hesitated, both Stella and Luna called out. “Purple!”
Sia reached for a dress that Celeste had glanced at earlier but walked away from. Soft lavender that was very flowy.
“Like this,” she said quietly.
Celeste took it and looked at it before she went back to the dressing room. When she stepped out again, the entire store went still.
The lavender complimented her and caught the light when she moved. It made her look freer and unburdened by life.
Luna’s mouth fell open. “You look like music.”
Stella clasped her hands dramatically. “Like a flower.”
Sia blinked back sudden heat behind her eyes as Celeste looked at her reflection.
Her chin trembled. “It feels…” she began, then her voice trailed off.
“Tell me,” Sia encouraged.
“Pretty.” It was almost a whisper. Not practical or appropriate.
Pretty.
Sia stepped forward and adjusted a strand of Celeste’s hair. “You deserve pretty.”
Celeste’s composure cracked and her hand reached up and brushed Sia’s.
Sia covered her hand gently.
“I thought,” Celeste admitted, “that if I did everything properly, then nothing else would change.”
And there it was.
Sia’s throat tightened. “Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured. “Things were always going to change.”
Celeste’s eyes shimmered. “I didn’t want to lose anything else.”
“You haven’t,” Sia said firmly. “I’m not going to erase anything. There will always be memories, but there’s no reason we can’t make new ones.”
The words settled into the space between them like something sacred.
Stella wrapped herself around Celeste’s waist and Luna leaned in from the other side. For the first time, Celeste did not hold herself apart and let herself be held.
When they finally left the shop, garment boxes tied in satin ribbon, Celeste walked closer than before. As they stepped back into the sunlight, she slipped her hand into Sia’s.
Tentative at first, but then certain.
Sia had not expected it to feel this easy, and not because it was simple. But because love, she was beginning to understand, did not always arrive in grand fashion.
Sometimes it arrived in crooked braids or lavender silk when a child chose pretty for the first time. And sometimes it arrived when a watchful girl decided she was ready to let someone new stand beside her.
They decided on the way back to the castle that Lucas was not allowed to see the dresses until the day of the wedding. Anxiety riddled Sia in the days leading up to the wedding.
It should have made everything simpler. But instead, it made Lucas's distance sharper.
And then came Liam’s big day.
The entire kingdom buzzed for weeks in preparation. Lucas's younger brother had chosen a woman who laughed loudly and kissed him in full view without shame. Their joy was unruly and unapologetic.
Sia found herself both delighted and uneasy.
The ceremony unfolded beneath a vaulted cathedral ceiling draped in white and gold. Sunlight streamed through stained glass, and the air hummed with anticipation.
Lucas stood beside Liam at the altar, composed and regal in ceremonial black. He wore duty like armor. But when Liam glanced at his bride with bright eyes and barely contained emotion, Lucas's expression softened in a way that stole Sia’s breath.
Not envy, but memory. She saw it then. The ghost of a man who had once stood just as tenderly with her sister.
When Liam’s bride began to cry during her vows, laughter rippled through the guests. Liam cupped her face, brushed tears away with his thumbs, and smiled as if nothing in the world could threaten the fragile miracle of her standing there before him.
Something inside Sia ached.
At the reception, the newlyweds danced without choreography, bumping into each other and laughing, foreheads pressed together. Liam whispered something that made his wife flush pink and swat his shoulder.
It was real. Unpolished and alive.
Sia stood near one of the towering floral arrangements as grief rose unexpectedly. For the woman she might have been. For the marriage that could have been hers, before she became Dian’s shadow.
She looked across the hall and saw Lucas standing alone near a pillar as he watched his brother with quiet, restrained sorrow. Her heart softened at the pain she saw.
He loved deeply. Completely. He had not loosened his hold on Dian’s memory for anything. There was something profoundly honorable in that, but also loneliness.
Their eyes met across the crowded room and for a moment, the music dimmed. The laughter faded. No expectations. No ghosts. Just two people standing in the aftermath of love, one who had lost it, and one who had never truly been allowed to have it.
Lucas inclined his head, a silent acknowledgment. Sia returned it. They did not move closer.
But something fragile shifted between them all the same.