01

Agnes yanked on the laces of my bodice, as if they could get any tighter. I was already light headed from lack of oxygen and I'd only been wearing the cursed thing for minutes.

"It's too tight," I said breathlessly, attempting to loosen the laces.

Mother batted my hands away. "It can never be too tight, dear. Just suck in your stomach a little more." She said.

I glared at her back as she paced around my room, waiting impatiently for me to finish getting ready. At one point, she paused and narrowed her eyes at me, before continuing to pace. Her heeled shoes clicked loudly on the marble floor, and I found it rather distracting.

Agnes finished brushing out my hair and pinned it back, so that it cascaded down my back in long, dark curls. She stepped back to admire her work, nodded once and then beamed at me, pride glowing in her dark eyes. "You look beautiful, miss."

"Thank you," I replied uncertainly, turning to face the mirror. I did look beautiful, I thought. The gown was a deep crimson color; it was a sleeveless gown with hand-draped tulle and a patterned tulle skirt, with embellished lace and ruffles. The dress was much too beautiful to be worn by me. I could never do it justice.

I loved the dress, and wanted to twirl in it, but I would do no such thing in front of my mother. I turned to her, expecting some grand reaction for the lovely dress. "What do you think?"

Mother narrowed her eyes, and I watched as they quickly assessed the dress and then me in the dress. "It will do." she said stiffly, before turning and heading out the door.

My shoulders drooped a little at this, and I released a long breath, trying not to seem all that disappointed by her terse reply.

Agnes's arm slipped around my shoulders in a hug. "Every woman will want to be you and every man will have their eyes on you tonight." She whispered reassuringly.

I gave her a small smile, before stepping into the red satin slippers, picking up my book, and walking out to the carriage. Our coachman, Walter, held out his hand for me and helped me into the carriage.

Alice was already waiting inside, her back rigid, her hands folded in front of her. She wore a beautiful gold gown that accentuated her breasts; I'm sure Mother intended for that. She did not even glance at me as I slid onto the bench across from her.

Mother sat beside her on the carriage bench, her eyes narrowed at me in scrutiny.

I sat next to the window, opposite my mother and sister, and opened my book.

"You're going to read on the way to the palace?" My sister wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Yes," I said, looking down at the book in my hands.

"Put it away, Erika." Mother said to me. "A woman like you should not be reading. You should be looking for a husband. You can't do that with your nose in a book."

Reluctantly, I shut the book, and did not argue.

We arrived at the palace, along with the steady flow of carriages. Walter helped my mother, my sister, and me out onto the cobbled road and then drove off. A footman at the palace door announced our arrival and we walked into the grand palace, down the long hallway to the ballroom.

When we entered, my attention was drawn to the musicians playing their instruments in the corner of the room. It was loud, reaching even the farthest corner, but it was pleasant. The room was large, and decorated as one would expect a ballroom to be decorated: extravagant would have been an understatement. The polished, wooden floor seemed to glow from the many lights shining down on it. The walls were covered in gilt picture frames and mirrors. Each mirror stretched to the impossibly tall domed ceiling, the frames made from solid gold wrapping around the mirrors in beautiful designs and patterns. An incredibly large chandelier hung from the ceiling on a braided rope that at least looked to be made of gold. Candles sat precariously on every available space on the chandelier, setting the room ablaze with warmth, with the help of the lanterns that hung at intervals along the walls.

Servers could be found every few feet, each carrying a tray of some sort of food or drink. Some carried flutes of bubbling champagne, or held glasses of wine of the deepest crimson, while others carried hors d'oeuvres or small desserts.

Evidently, the king and queen had spared no expense.

Opposite the door, there was a raised dais, where King Henry and his wife, Queen Alexia, sat on their thrones, watching the festivities. Couples danced merrily, laughing and talking. Some were already intoxicated, though, so far, no one seemed to have fallen into a drunken stupor.

"Where is Father?" I asked.

"He had a meeting with some dignitaries. He'll be along soon." Mother replied before walking off, Alice following behind.

Left alone, I went and found a chair in the corner of the room, where I sat and began reading my book. It was quieter back here, and there weren't as many people around. I lost track of time as I became engrossed in the plot, the characters, the book itself. Over the years, I'd found books to be very reliable. In my chaotic, ever-changing life, books were the only constant, and I was grateful for that.

I loved that I could often relate to the protagonist, that I could get absorbed in the plot. I could go anywhere, do anything, and I never had to leave my bedroom.

"You're reading at the king's ball?" I heard from my left.

I started, slamming my book shut, and looked up to see who had interrupted me. I found a man that looked to be close to my age, maybe a year older, with dark hair and vivid blue eyes watching me. He was wearing a black doublet with gold edging and black trousers. I thought he was rather attractive, and immediately felt my cheeks heat up.

I opened my mouth and then closed it, not quite sure what to say. "Yes," I finally managed. "I find these sort of events rather . . . dull."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Dull? Well, I suppose it's a matter of opinion. I think you just need to be shown that it can be enjoyable." He smiled, flashing perfect, white teeth. "What is your name?"

"Erika Lovet of Locksley." I said slowly. I realized belatedly that I should have stood and curtsied, as only proper etiquette, but I stayed seated.

"Well, Miss Lovet, would you be so kind as to honor me with a dance?" He asked, holding out his hand.

I felt my cheeks burning scarlet and I looked down at my hands nervously. "I'm not a very good dancer." I said softly.

"I'm sure you're an excellent dancer." He replied, grinning brightly.