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Grace swept in with Madison, her personal aide, trailing behind like a storm cloud in peach satin. “Darling Ella!” Grace sang, her smile sharp enough to slice silk. “Do pick your fabric first! We’ve reserved the finest for your discerning taste.”
Amy twirled, her lilac skirts fanning out. “Oh, Ella must choose something bold—she’s practically invisible at banquets!” Her brother, lurking by the door like a poorly dressed gargoyle, snorted.
“Lotus blue?” Madison gasped, clutching her pearls. “But that’s… traditional. Mortifyingly so!”
Claire, the seamstress, timidly unspooled a shimmering ivory fabric. “With pearls at the hem, my lady? Very… pure.”
Amy giggled. “Imagine the whispers: Poor Ella’s dressed like a widow!”This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Ella held the lotus blue to her shoulders, meeting Claire’s gaze in the mirror. The seamstress stiffened—a flicker of recognition that this color hadn’t been worn since Ella’s mother’s time.
“Funny,” Ella said, turning slowly. “I don’t recall Mother ever letting others dictate her wardrobe.”
She arched a brow at Claire. “Can you stitch lotus blue with silver thread? Subtly rebellious?”
Grace’s smile cracked. “You’ll look dated, child.”
“Better dated than predictable,” Ella purred. “Jade white suits those afraid of shadows, Aunt. But I?” She nodded to Claire. “I prefer to remind the court that even midnight has teeth.”
As Claire measured the fabric, Ella caught Madison muttering to Grace: “Who does she think she is—the Empress?”
Later, in the courtyard…
Claire hesitated, her scissors pausing mid-air. “My lady… this design will draw… attention.”
A cough startled them. Ethan Davis leaned against the archway, arms folded, armor gleaming. “Midnight blue? How delightfully… non-assassin-like.”
He caught it, grinning. “I’d rather smell like victory than roses.”
Their laughter tangled, sharp and bright, as the lotus blue rippled like a challenge in the wind.