My mother motioned for the guards to stay at the front of the shop, and we made our way back to the fitting rooms. There were three rooms, each with a stunning dress hung and ready for fitting. Kana employed a few other girls, but we always had access to her. Perks of being the Lord of Hestin’s daughter and wife, I supposed.
In one of the other rooms was Dria, a socialite whose father was in my father’s cabinet. For all intents and purposes, we should have been friends; we were similar in age, she was a year older, we went to school together, attended the same high-society functions, and were raised with similar expectations. But there was something that just never clicked for us. Dria Awakened last year as a Pleasure Mage—like her parents—and there was distinct bad blood between the two of us. She was rather interested in my brother and had dated him publicly for a few months. He, however, broke it off with her when he realized she made nasty comments to me at school.
While she had previously held back her vitriol toward me in public, she held no such compunction now, unless either of my parents were present. She was still delusional and thought Peytor might make her his wife, even though they wouldn’t be Bonded.
“Dria,” I greeted. I always tried to take the high road in confrontation, especially with my mother present. “You look lovely.”
And she really did. Her dress was slimming and incredibly risqué with a plunging neckline and thin shoulder straps—a fashion that was all the rage in the Southern Territories—and was made of a fabric so deep green it was almost black. There were iridescent sparkles throughout that glimmered even in her most minute movements. It offset her deep raven-black hair and pale skin, her eyes appearing even more green next to the fabric.
I smiled softly at her. Her face transformed from one of disgust at my presence to complete and utterly fake joy when she saw I was accompanied by my mother.
“Ell!” she squealed, pulling out of the seamstress’ reach and wrapping me in a hug. I gagged subtly at the overpowering scent of roses that clung to her. I had to hold back a sneeze and hoped that my eyes didn’t water.
“Hi.” I awkwardly patted her back.
She released me and held me by my shoulders. “I amsoexcited for yourparty tomorrow night! Do you like my dress?” She twirled about, showing off the fabric and an incredibly low back. There was almost nothing to the dress.
I nodded, but before I could say anything, my mother interjected.
“Shows quite a bit of skin, doesn’t it, dear?”
Dria’s face fell minutely, but she recovered quickly.
“Yes, but Father says it is all the rage in the South right now. We both felt like the Northern Territories needed a bit more . . . life in them. What better way than through fashion?”
I had to give it to her, her answer and obvious act were good.
My mother pursed her lips.
“Hmm. Perhaps,” is all she said before leading me to my own dressing room.
“It was nice to see you, Dria,” I called before following Mother. Dria simply rolled her eyes and turned sullenly back to her seamstress.
I stepped into the booth and gazed at my dress. It was the exact opposite of Dria’s, if that was possible. Where hers was formfitting and revealing, mine was much larger and extremely conservative. The neck was high and buttoned, the body cinched, and the skirt full. At least the top of the bodice near my neck and the sleeves were sheer.
I sighed internally.
It was not my style in the slightest. Even the color was an odd pale ivory—I guess it was to show innocence and purity, to remind my suitors what I would look like at a wedding. Despite my distaste, I smiled at Mother before closing the curtain to step into the dress. Once it was on, I turned toward the mirror. I looked like a doll my mother dressed up.
It was hideous.
I must’ve worn my emotions on my face because Kana paled when she stepped through the curtain into the small space.
“W-what do you think, miss?” she whispered.
I couldn’t answer her immediately.
“You hate it.”
I gave her a watery smile and ducked my head.
“It’s beautiful, Kana. Thank you.” I touched her shoulder, but she wasn’t convinced, and she worried her thin lower lip between her teeth.
“Your mother didn’t show you her drawings, did she?” Kana was perceptive as always. I shook my head, a tear falling down my face.
Kana quickly wiped it away.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, embarrassed that I was crying over a dress—one that probably cost as much as the entirety of Kana’s shop.
