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“With you by my side, perhaps I can learn to face the crowds without dread.” Maybe she wouldn’t hear danger in every sound eventually.
“You will,” Theodore agreed. “And should fear ever find you, look to me, and remember I won’t let anything happen.”
“NICOLE,” THEODORE BEGAN, his voice cutting through the silence with practiced concern. “I have noticed the shadows that linger in your eyes, even as you smile. Are you all right?”
She clutched at the fabric of her dress, a once-comforting habit now a telltale sign of her inner turmoil. “I keep trying, Theodore. But the fear is like a relentless tide, washing away my resolve.”
A gentle nod from Theodore ushered in Doctor Langley, a man who had a reputation for calming anxious minds. His demeanor was calm, his eyes kind.
“Your Highness,” he greeted with a respectful bow to Theodore before turning his attention to Nicole. “It is my understanding you’re facing some challenges. I am here to help you navigate through them.”
Nicole’s fingers stilled, the warmth in Dr. Langley’s gaze offering a glimmer of hope. As they conversed, his words were not probing but guiding, leading her through the labyrinth of her fears with a steady hand.
“Imagine your anxiety as a color,” Dr. Langley suggested. “What would it be?”
“Gray,” she murmured after a moment. “A stormy gray, swirling and unpredictable.”
“Then let us introduce new colors to your palette, shades of courage and serenity. Together, we will blend them until the gray is but a distant memory.”
In the days following, Nicole found solace in the company of Eloise and Amanda. The library became their haven.
“Have you read this one?” Amanda asked, sliding an elegantly embossed novel across the table. “It tells a tale of a woman much like yourself, overcoming the odds.”
“Indeed,” Eloise chimed in. “There is strength in these pages, lessons intertwined with each character’s journey.”
Together they delved into stories of heroines who conquered empires and hearts alike, their laughter echoing. In fiction, Nicole discovered pieces of her courage that needed to be put together again.
“Sometimes,” Nicole confided during a pause filled with the rustling of pages, “I feel as though I’m a character in one of these novels, waiting for the author to grant me bravery.”
Eloise looked at her with empathy, “But you see, Nicole, you’re the author of your own story. And each day, you must write a little more of your strength into being.”
“Let us be the supporting cast,” Amanda added, her voice light yet firm. “We’ll help you get rid of all those fears.”
Nicole took in their encouraging faces. It was amazing to her how much they’d helped her through her fears. “Thank you,” she said. “You make me believe I can face tomorrow’s page with a bit more courage.”
“Tomorrow and every day after,” Eloise replied.
IN THE GRAND DINING hall of the palace, Nicole sat, her posture perfect, her hands folded neatly in her lap, yet she felt anything but serene. Her gaze flicked across the faces of the nobility, their laughter and chatter did little to soothe the storm within her. Sometimes, the supper parties were simply the hardest things to get through.
“Your Highness, might I say you look as radiant as the moonlight on our Allenian shores?” Prince Bernard’s voice pulled her attention toward him. He was speaking to Eloise, his eyes locked onto hers.
“Prince Bernard, you flatter me,” Eloise replied, her cheeks flushed with a blend of amusement and embarrassment. “But I thank you for such kind words.”
Nicole observed the exchange from a distance. She admired her friend’s ease in these social waters. She felt as if she was going to drown in the same waters.
When the time came for the men to retire to a separate room, Theodore rose, offering Nicole a reassuring smile.
“Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen,” Prince James announced. “Duty calls us away, but please, continue to enjoy the hospitality of the palace.”
When the door closed behind the king and his entourage of princes, Nicole felt the walls of the dining hall close in around her, and she excused herself, claiming a need for fresh air.
Her escape led her not to the palace gardens, but upward. Nicole’s footsteps echoed off the marble floors until she reached the sanctuary of Theodore’s studio. It would be some time before she could possibly feel at ease in the gardens.
Nicole moved to the easel that held a blank canvas. She donned the smock that had become her second skin, its fabric stained with the battles of her artistic endeavors. She knew she should really change out of her evening gown, but the call of the canvas was too strong.
She picked up a palette, already dotted with dried remnants of color, and began mixing anew. With each stroke against the canvas, Nicole sought to release the tension that had built up over the evening.
As she painted, and thought about how well the others managed the formal conversations, a whisper of self-doubt began to grow.
