53. Nora
53
Nora
I ’d never worn fabric this expensive. It draped along my skin, velvety smooth. The seamstress tugged and wrapped the billowing fabric, pinning it in places that made no sense to me. But looking at myself in the angled oval mirror, I could see the vision.
Announcement of the new Queen of Highcrest. There’d be absolutely no way to access the daggers strapped to my thigh, not under the mountain of layers jutting out from my cinched waist. This dress was a whole level of protection on its own, though. It felt like I had a fifteen foot span. An array of blues, sprawling sparkling tulle, ruffles and laces. The woman in the mirror definitely fit the look of a queen. I hardly recognized myself.
Nicholas had sent a carriage, delivering a letter that spoke of a booked appointment with the most sought after seamstress in Waterview. Melody, Kenzie, and I arrived probably three hours ago. The woman had closed down her shop, her main priority being this gown to be presented tomorrow at the announcement luncheon.
My sisters sat on the chaise lounge surrounding the platform I stood on, gushing over the dresses on display and snacking on the miniature sandwiches and tarts.
“Nora, I can’t believe the prince chose you,” Kenzie said through crumb-coated lips. I don’t think she knew how to compliment me without lacing it in insult, but I understood what she meant.
“Trust me, I didn’t see it coming either.” Understatement.
“You are the vision of a true queen. This kingdom will be lucky to have you,” Melody said, her eyes trailing the luscious fabric glittering in the sunlight streaming through the shop’s large front bay windows.
While the seamstress stepped off to the side, taking notes and measurements in her notepad, movement outside the shop caught my eye. A woman had stopped dead in her tracks, peering into the shop with stunned intensity.
Jenta.
The horrified confusion set against her typically well-presented face sparked a little joy. I watched as she slowly processed, putting the pieces together. Knowing our financial state, the fact that we would never be able to afford frequenting a shop as high brow as this, pairing with the newspaper announcement in her hand. The paper crinkled under her furious grip.
I offered a condescending smile before raising my chin and facing forward again. A moment of triumph for her treating us so terribly after we’d lost our wealth, and she’d treated us like infectious trash. Karma.
She stormed off, her dark cloud never to rain over me or my family again.
My heart galloped. Weeks ago, I’d considered not even surviving to see the next spring, not with the mess I’d been tangling myself in. Now, I was engaged to a man I’d come to love over such a short period of time, who just so happened to be a prince.
This felt like a story from one of those fairytales they tell children, something truly unbelievable that had somehow become my life. I didn’t know this kind of happiness existed, or if it did, that I’d be fortunate enough to feel it.
It reminded me of how my father would speak of my mother. How she’d smile up at him as if the stars were in his eyes. I wished they could know that their daughter had somehow managed to find joy.
My mind conjured up the moment my parents would have handed me over down the aisle, how my father would have traveled across an ocean to gift us a unique wedding present. How my mother would have embraced him and called him the son she never had.
“I think we’re all finished,” the seamstress said, tugging me back to reality. “We’ll get you out of this, and I’ll finish making the corrections. I shall have it dropped off tomorrow morning, right to your address.” She beamed, and to my discomfort, bowed slightly. “I am honored you’ve chosen my establishment, Your Grace. I hope you are pleased with my work.”
A bow and a title. Suddenly, I couldn’t wait to get out of this monstrosity of a dress and slip back into my simple, worn in and comfortable shirt and pants.
“You have been a most gracious host, Lady Smythe. We shall not keep you for a moment longer.” Melody rose from the chaise and approached me from behind, beginning to unlace the bound ribbons, as if she sensed my desperation.
“Thank you,” I whispered. She merely smiled while she worked to free me.