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“Hmm, perhaps that was meant to be a surprise. Oh well. You should wear this tonight. It’ll look stunning on you, dear.”
I took the gown, knowing there was no way to convince her I wouldn’t be wearing this. At first glance, it did look quite lovely. Still, I would’ve liked it more if I could’ve chosen it myself.
Patience, I reminded myself. After tonight, I’d be rid of her.
She grabbed another bag from her multitudes. “Can’t forget the shoes,” she said, pushing a smaller lilac bag into my hands.
“Thanks,” I uttered through gritted teeth. I began to head toward my room before she stopped me again.
“Oh, Emilie, try your best to win him over tonight. This marriage is all but final, but it would go a long way if you could seal the deal, if you know what I mean.”
Something lodged in my throat. Had my mother just encouraged me to seduce Cyrus? I was on the verge of vomiting. First, because my mother had asked me to make a whore of myself and second, because I’d never seduced anyone in my life. The thought alone made my knees wobble. I wasn’t ready for this.
The furthest I’d ever been was with a boy named Weston when I was fourteen. He’d fondled my breasts inside a cloak closet while we played hide and seek with our friends. My brother had caught us and had made me swear to never do it again. I’d agreed because it was the only way to stop him from telling our parents.
I thought Weston must’ve been upset about the whole thing because later, I’d overheard him telling another boy that my breasts were weird. What the fuck did that mean?
“Of course,” was all I managed to get out. And then I fled to my bedroom to have a minor breakdown.
I used unpacking as an excuse to take my mind off dinner that night. It took over two hours to sort through my clothing and get it all organized in the cavern of a closet I’d been given. The closet might’ve been bigger than my entire room back in Dreslen. It was complete with a full-length mirror and a cream-colored chaise nestled between two alcoves. After I finished putting away my collection of shoes, I took a break and sat on the cozy chair.
From this angle, I could still see the stacks of trunks in the corner of my room taunting me. I’d managed to clear at least half of them, but there was still so much to be done. I released a heavy sigh and, rather than returning to work, I laid down and closed my eyes.
Just a minute, I told myself.
A minute turned into several hours. Marjorie knocked on my door and, after I startled awake, I shouted for her to come in.
She was carrying another tray and this time it included a glass of wine and some bread with butter. “Just a little something to hold you over before dinner tonight. I ran into your mother and she told me she spoiled the surprise. How are your acting skills?” she asked.
I frowned. “My acting skills?”
“King Cyrus really wanted to do something special for you. Can you pretend to be surprised?”
“I can try.”
Marjorie's eyes lit up as she pulled the gown out of the bag I’d left lying on my bed. I probably should’ve hung it up when I’d gotten back to my room, but I hadn’t thought about it. It didn’t matter anyway. The fabric fell to the floor and there wasn’t a wrinkle in sight. The seamstresses in Renoa were experts in their field.
Marjorie helped me put on the long, white dress. I realized the shimmer I’d noticed early was actually a pattern of pearlescent shells that covered the entire gown. They looked so real; I thought they might be actual shells but as I felt the fabric between my fingers, I knew they were merely an impressively life-like design. Marjorie pulled the laces on the back tight and tied them neatly in a knot at the top near my neck. They formed a unique pattern that showed off my back in what I hoped was a seductive manner. That uneasiness in my stomach crept back in, and I thought I might be sick.
I grabbed for the glass of wine and took a few sips, hoping to settle my nerves. Was that why Marjorie brought it? No, she couldn’t have known. She was likely just used to Sofia’s drinking habits.
No one knows you’re trying to fuck the king tonight, Emilie.
Another sip of wine.
Marjorie picked out a set of jewelry from my shelves. Aquamarine gems that dangled from earrings and a matching stone that hung from a silver necklace.
“There’s a matching tiara,” I told her, and she searched through the many pieces I owned. I tried to ignore the trembling in my hand as I brought my glass of wine to my lips. Marjorie returned with a tiara in hand, and I carefully set it atop my brown curls, securing it in place with a few pins.
“You look like a queen already,” Marjorie told me, staring at me with glistening eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone quite so beautiful.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
Marjorie shook her head subtly. “I’m not.” She paused and studied me. More words seemed to be on the tip of her tongue. “You know, King Cyrus is very beloved. He’s been very…reserved ever since Isabella’s passing. The citizens, those of us who work in the castle, his family—all of us would like to see him happy again. I hope that you’ll be the key to that.”
My eyes fixated on the pearl-colored flats peeking out from beneath my gown. I’d had no idea there would be this much pressure. I’d thought this was going to be a simple marriage arrangement. Instead, I was both the key to Cyrus’s happiness and my parents’ golden savior. Suddenly, the dress felt too tight. And the tiara was too heavy.
“Shall we go?” Marjorie asked.
