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When Sophie returned hours later, it was with a beautiful deep red dress the color of mulled wine. Sophie laid the silk dress down, and Wren could not help but run her fingers along the fabric. The silk felt like a chance to make her own path underneath her fingertips.
“It’s perfect, Sophie.”
Sophie made quick work of her hair, carefully winding two braids into a crown around her head and ending in a tight knot at the nape of her neck. She let two small curls fall forward to rest on either side of her face.
Wren had nearly argued when Sophie put a little paint on her face, but she knew that she was painfully pale and she needed the color. Sophie insisted that she abide by court fashion and wear the corset, but Wren hated the sensation that she could not take a full breath. When Wren inevitably complained, Sophie merely clicked her tongue as if that were all the reproach necessitated.
She eased Wren into the red dress and even Wren could not deny the effect the dress had. The corset accentuated her curves so the dress hugged in at her hips before flowing out into more bountiful skirts. The neckline was straight across causing her bosom to be far more exposed than she would have liked. Sophie had to reassure her that this was the style and that it was not indecent at least three times. The sleeves of the dress were tight to her arms and hugged her wrists as well. Wren stared at herself in the mirror and wondered how a farm girl could turn into this in just two days.
She looked beautiful, she looked regal.
A near gloating smile lit up Sophie’s narrow face.
“Red was a good choice, Sophie,” whispered Wren.
Chapter 8
Wren’sheartflutteredwildlyin her chest as she reminded herself to take deep, settling breaths. Even though Sophie walked close to her side, Wren was too distracted to make conversation. The castle seemed entirely different from any of the other times she had glimpsed it. Where it had once seemed cold and despondent, it now seemed more complex.
The farther they got from her rooms and into the main castle, the higher the ceiling became until Wren had to crane her neck all the way back to see them. The ceilings while still made of stone, seemed to crawl up each corner in a unique pattern until it met at the highest point. The main part of the castle had stained glass in some of the hallways while some held the red banner she had previously seen.
Now that her mind was clearer, and it was not so dark, she could see that each banner held a dagger within a circle of roses, set upon a white background. Wren found herself leaning towards Sophie to ask what they meant. Sophie told her they were the symbol of House Blackwood, the royal family. Footsteps behind her had her glancing back to see a single guard trailing them. Regret coursed in her veins as she struggled to process the reason for the change. Whatever false hope she had harbored of going home through the lake seemed to be gone.
Sophie had her turn down another hallway just as big as the rest, and Wren was struck with the thought that she would never be able to find her way back. When they came to a large wooden door Sophie knocked twice.
“Come.” The command was given like the voice had never known dissidence.
The door opened and Wren was shocked to see a large room lined with wooden paneling and stained glass surrounding the outside, and an extraordinarily large table in the middle of the room with a large fireplace in the corner. As her eyes made their way around the room, absorbing the beautiful architecture, she realized that it was not an unfamiliar voice that had answered their knock, but Prince Malaki’s.
He was sitting in a chair, holding a large book, near the fireplace when they entered, but upon seeing them, stood up. Though Wren felt the magnitude of their last meeting weighing on her, she could not help but notice how well the prince looked in his court clothes. His jacket and trousers were all black, and his hair was more orderly, his black hair nearly reaching his shoulders now that it was combed and styled.
His eyes met hers briefly before he quickly turned his attention to Sophie. “Sophie, are you responsible for this?”
The words were quiet enough that Wren had a sudden fear that Sophie would be punished. Wren answered quickly, “It was my idea, Your Highness.”
A hint at surprise flickered before he regained his cold composure. Before Wren could come up with a way to absolve her friend, Sophie said, “I picked out the color, thank you.” She then made a mock bow towards the prince, who rolled his eyes, and an unfamiliar smile appeared on his lips. “Yes, yes, I am a terrible maid,” Sophie interrupted the prince before he could deliver the familiar admonishment.
“Remind me to have you replaced immediately.” Though their relationship had always been strange and different then a servant and her prince, after all she called him by his given name, this was something else. He spared a quick smile for Sophie before turning towards Wren, his face now devoid of the humor he had just shared with Sophie. “Tonight my father will present you to the rest of the court. From what Sophie has told me, I gather you are unfamiliar with such gatherings?”
The words stung as if he were making fun of her humble life, but he merely walked to the table and put down the book with an audible sigh.
“My father will expect you to be agreeable and meek. You would be wise to not disappoint him. Your fashion choices will already fail at such an endeavor.”
He seemed detached when he spoke to her, as if she weren’t worth his time. It was not that she expected anything different from him given their previous meetings, but part of her hoped now that she was officially trapped here that he might not be as hostile.
Shame and doubt began to crowd her mind, and she gripped the fabric of her dress to try to ground herself.
The prince seemed to consider her fidgeting before saying, “It is worth it though in this instance. Though as you will come to see my father is not a forgiving man. Make only polite conversations with the members of the court, do not engage in any of their schemes. For all intents and purposes, ours is a love match. You are low born from Crishaven, which is south of us. We met when I was abroad for a short stay to reaffirm our alliance with the King and Queen of Crishaven. We met and instantly fell in love. I would hear nothing of your status and we were married with the king’s blessing. You understand?”
“Hardly.” She had not meant to say the word out loud, but all of this was so absurd. None of this made sense from why they had brought her here to why they were fabricating the details of their sham of a wedding. Feeling emboldened by her anger, she went on, “I don’t understand why I was brought here in the first place. Why do we have to lie about it? What is the purpose of any of this?”
The prince arched a brow at her. “Do you feel better now?” She made to tell him she most certainly did not when he continued, “You will find it is much more freeing to recognize that my father’s plans are his own and asking questions is futile.” The words were casual, as if he were discussing the weather.
“Do you truly have so little dignity? You are content to be a puppet for others? Well, I am not, and I will never be.” She felt rage building in her, clawing at her insides, desperate to get out, but her body had trapped it.
“Then you will be very disappointed in your life here. However, that is your decision.” He turned away from her and began to walk to the door they had entered through.
“You swore you would help me find a way home.” She hated the plea in her voice. He did not deserve to see any weakness in her.
