Page 49
Once her skin is dried and anointed with soothing oils, she returns to the bedchamber to approach the vanity, finding Annie waiting like she usually does. Patient. Her head turns toward the princess and she stands, bowing half of her body down. “Greetings again, Your Highness. Shall I help you dress?” Annie gestures to the new, black dress.
“Yes, please. I worry I will take too long like I did last night,” Elara makes a light joke to lighten the worry in her heart. Last night, she requested Annie to let her handle her routine herself, from the growing duties yesterday.
Annie lets out a genuine laugh. “Of course.”
Elara sits and feels Annie combing through her wet hair. While Annie works, Elara examines her reflection. The dark circles beneath her eyes appear lighter, almost unnoticeable, but her hair looks thinner. Her brow furrows as she turns her head.
“Is there something wrong, Your Highness?”
Elara swallows. “The hair at the side of my head is thinner. Am I ill?”
“Oh, it could be because of stress. Lack of sleep. Perhaps not hydrating well, Your Highness,” Annie avoids brushing too much at the side of Elara’s head, instead focusing on the back and ends.
Elara looks down, avoiding her reflection. Catching sight of the silver scars on her thighs, she quickly brings her hands flat over them, shielding them from view. She feels Annie’s gaze on her, but the maid remains silent. Once Elara’s hair is dried and as straight as it can be, Annie brings the black dress over.
“This will require pins and adjustments,” Annie says, mostly to herself. “Your recent illness has left you smaller, but we can secure the fit.”
Elara stands and lets Annie bring the dress to her, slipping it onto her body as she removes the towel. The material, despite appearing glamorous and textured on the outside, is silky smooth underneath, like a soft caress against her skin. After many pins tighten around her frame, Annie steps back to study the dress.
“It looks wonderful,” Annie smiles at Elara. “Especially on you, Your Highness.”
Elara’s cheeks warm with the compliment. “Thank you.”
“Is it uncomfortable? I can adjust it. Your comfort matters most,” Annie insists, encouraging Elara to be entirely honest.
The validation carries a sincerity she had spent her entire childhood longing to hear within the walls of her father’s castle. She swallows against the rising tightness in her throat before offering a smile. “I am fine, I promise.”
Annie studies her for a moment longer, apparently satisfied with the answer. Turning back to the vanity, she retrieves the golden crown to rest it atop Elara’s hair, then reaches for the selection of golden crystal jewelry arranged on the velvet tray. Elara parts her lips, intending to protest the excess, but a sudden hesitation stalls her voice.
Annie secures the delicate crystal studs into her ears and guides the matching necklace to rest against her collarbone, granting the ensemble a new, commanding purpose. Unexpectedly, her fingers lift the original golden chain with the heart-shaped locket, which Elara had tucked inside its protective velvet cover to shield it from harm while she bathed. Annie lifts the piece and clasps it around her neck, as though instinctively recognizing its profound value.
“Is this to your liking, Your Highness?” Annie asks, stepping back to observe the reflection. “You rarely go a day without this piece. I assumed you wished to keep it on.”
“Yes,” Elara replies, her voice carrying a trace of desperate gratitude.
“The pendant is beautiful,” Annie notes, her gaze tracking the delicate golden filigree tracing the edges of the heart. “I have a small chained bracelet my son crafted for me a year ago.” Raising her right forearm, she displays a gold charm wrapped snugly around her wrist.
Elara studies the growing fondness written across Annie’s features before she finds the courage to speak. “This pendant belonged to my mother,” she lets the words hang in the air. “I have kept it ever since her passing.”
Annie pauses. She slowly extends a gentle hand toward Elara’s shoulder. Elara remains still as Annie rests her palm against the silk, offering a supportive squeeze. “I am sorry, my dear. I understand how heavily the absence of your closest family weighs.”
Elara remains motionless, absorbing the quiet reassurance of the touch before Annie’s fingers loosen their hold. “I will take my leave now, Your Highness. Enjoy your evening.” With a final, respectful bow, the caretaker exits the chamber.
Once Annie departs, Elara’s gaze drifts to the drawer where she concealed Cael's booklet. Her mind has been turning so rapidly today that she requires an escape before the evening dinner. She longs to lose herself in the poems of the man she married, the one who so gently cared for her burnt hand this morning.
Before she can think too much about it, Elara pulls open the drawer and retrieves the leather booklet, eager to lose herself in his secret verses before the heavy duties of the banquet begin.
A spill of chestnut silk against the cold,
Where morning catches in each winding strand.
Her forest eyes, a vibrant grace to hold,
Like summer leaves above a barren land.
Her parting lips, a breath that stills the chamber,
A quiet warmth where all my shadows fade,
