CHAPTER 3

“Shouldn’t you be there by now?”

She glanced at her father from her spot on a thick branch of the old yew tree in her garden. A gift for her fifteenth birthday.

One her elder sister held a resentment towards her for. Partly because this was the biggest and most scenic garden they have in their manor.

She looked down at her guard, Kyler, who had slowly become her friend in the seven years since he’s been assigned to her. And since she chose him to guard her.

“If you want to go down to the capital and terrorize the local pub at this time of day, be my guest.”

He laughed, blowing a strand of chocolate brown hair aside. Blue eyes held amusement as he looked up at her and said, “I would love to M’lady, but I’m afraid His Grace would skin me alive for leaving you unattended.”

“What if I gave you permission?” She raised a groomed brow.

He only shook his head, a smirk on his face. She sighed and might have gone back to her book. But a servant came then, informing her that her seamstress had arrived. Her dress for the ball is ready.

Only she needs to see it beforehand, should she want any changes.

She slammed her book shut and made her way down the tree, as graceful as a dancer. She had Esmery to thank.

Had to thank her for many things. Which made her wonder when her next visit to her would be. She had to ask her father later.

As she made her way to the room, she heard voices coming from the end of the hall. Right before Cathan came running, another little girl chased behind him, laughing.

She felt a pang in her chest at the sight, halted her steps because of it.

Kyler put a hand on her shoulder, in comfort and silently telling her to keep going.

She took a shaky breath before the two came to a stop before her.

The girl had pale blue eyes with hair so blonde it was almost white.

Aceline Yseult. Count Yseult's daughter. And if she was here….

She smiled reassuringly at the girl. “You’ve grown taller since the last time I saw you, M’lady,” she said gently, crouching down in front of the girl, the skirts of her grey dress hissing slightly at the movement.

She smiled at her, doing a sweet little courtesy, “Thank you, Lady Verena.”

She nodded, standing back up. “Has anyone else come with you?”

She nodded, “Calista was looking for you.”

She left the children to play as they wished and made a slight detour, knowing Calista would be with her father, Count Yseult until she came to get her. And the Count wouldn’t be here unless her father had a meeting.

She made her way to his office, knocking on the door. Calista was the one to open it, tugging her away before she could get a word out.

She rolled her eyes at her antics.

“I haven’t seen you in so long, it's unfair, Verena.”

“I’ve been busy,” she answered, leading her upstairs.

“Busy with what? Reading? Or sneaking out?” She would have slit someone else's throat had they talked to her that way. But Calista was Calista.

Like her sister, she had pale blonde hair and icy blue eyes. One would think the family was descended from frost giants since it was a family trait.

“Nothing to concern yourself with,” she answered. “You wish to come?”

Her brow furrowed in confusion.

“I’m going to see my dress.”

“It arrived? I really must come in contact with your seamstress. She does you and your wardrobe wonders.”

“I won’t let you come in contact then.” Honestly, despite her minimal interest in courtly affairs, other than the work her father does, she did take pride in her wardrobe. It was also one of the things she adored, amongst the few things she does.

It came from looking at no one here, but she has grown up the past years with Esmery and her unique way of styling herself. And the people on that Isle living with her have the same sense. It’s different. And she was fond of it.

And she made it her mission at a young age to find a seamstress who could take her imagination and make it into something beautiful. Something that makes people look. And though she hates the attention, she loves seeing the seething look on every other lady's face at balls.

The absence of a princess who was of age only gave her a bigger reason to do so. Someone had to set trends. Those old ruffles and laces were getting old.

Also, she thought as she entered the room, they were comfortable. No corsets. That was her rule ever since she wore the first monstrosity. She needed to breathe, to move. Corsets were…..constricting. Suffocating.

The seamstress, Sage, with her wild red hair and fierce amber eyes, moved as she came in, Calista a step behind her. Kyler shut the door behind him.

The four were the only ones in the room.

Sage moved to bring the dress out and-

“Woah,” Calista murmured.

She hadn’t wanted anything flashy. But enough to make the other sneer. And she knew two years ago what everyone wore, at the second prince's ceremony, where he didn’t make an appearance but still, the others coming of age that year got the chance to celebrate.

They had come in the hope to seduce the rumored heir of the Kingdom. A competition between the first and second born. But she had heard once that the second prince gave little interest. Mainly due to the King's current ways of ruling. He opposed it.

He was well within his rights to do so.

She didn’t blame him. But either way, amongst the ruffles and tulles and poofy skirts, she could move freely.

A smirk formed on her face at the thought. Tempt. But don’t invite.

Calista moved forward while Kyler let out a wolf whistle. “Done it again, M’lady.”

“Hush, you dog,” she hissed, turning her attention to Sage. And nodded. She bowed at the waist. A woman of little words. But millions of ideas. Something she admired.

A maid came in to call Calista and as soon as she left, Kyler moved to her side as they went to the opposite side of the room, away from prying ears.

Sage looked between them and handed her a note. She took it, reading it over before the woman said, “Midnight. Moreals Tavern on Lockwood street.”

“What is it this time?” Kyler groaned. They both gave him a look.

She handed the note to him with an elegant flourish of her hand. “Another meeting.”

“Must we?”

“Yes. I’m not leading these people for nothing.” He huffed, but his rigid posture gave him away. He knew the stakes. The risk. And he refused to leave her alone in this despite her being fully capable of handling this herself. Taking care of herself while she was at it.

Verena only gave the woman a glance, her eyes conveying the answer.

Sage nodded her head and made to leave. “We await your presence, Arcane.”