Elizabeth drew in a breath as Verena tightened her stays. She looked down at her shimmering, silver color gown and pulled a face. Her aunt had been busy that afternoon. Queen  Lorraine had not graced the ladies with an afternoon in her salon, after all. Her ladies-in-waiting had informed the guests of her indisposition, and had graciously arranged a tour of the palace for them, instead. Elizabeth had considered that blessings from high above. To be able to finally bask in the fresh air - it was a blessing, indeed. The tour had lasted all day, their guides prattling about the various points of history behind the glass castle that has been the primary seat of the royal house since centuries. 

The party of guests had been divided between young ladies and the matrons to act as chaperones, and the gentlemen, much to the dismay of the ladies. The worries had not deserted her completely, though. They gnawed at the corners of her mind, reminding her of how time was of such essence, and that half the while she wasn't even aware of the things happening in her life. She tried to ignore the sinking feeling as much as she could, but it was difficult. She exhaled as she found her maid's hands leaving her bodice, stepping aside to gather the ribbons littered on the floor. She smoothed the cresses around her waist and looked at her profile in the mirror before her. Aunt Emily had deftly avoided the tour and occupied herself with readying her gown for the evening ball. She had no clue what her cousin had been up to all day. 

She vaguely remembered a silver color specimen of a gown commissioned for her new wardrobe, but the gown she had donned in no way resembled the modest outline of the former gown. She couldn't imagine how her aunt had managed to whirl up a most stylish gown in such a steep amount of time, but she had long learned better than to question her aunt's actions. 

"Are you ready, Elizabeth?" Aunt spoke from where she was perched elegantly on the settee, a delicate fan in her hand as I entered the drawing room. 

"Just the jewels, I suppose," I replied, running a hand on my bare neck. 

"The pearls, today," she said, rising from her place and meaning to stride towards the closet when I held her hand. "Aunt?"

"Yes?" Her brows creased. 

"Voulez-vous répondre honnêtement à ce que je vais vous demander ?"  I spoke quietly, switching to French in hopes that the maid may not be able to understand the language, due to its unpopularity among the working classes. Her eyes widened in surprise at my accented french, but she quickly recovered, her brow even more worried than before. 

Reluctantly, she moved her head in an imperceptible nod. 

"Where is father?" I asked frankly, gazing directly into her eye. 

"Surely at his estate! Why do you think he would be anywhere else?" Aunt replied back in French, confusion written ominously all over her face.

"Isn't that the point? He shouldn't be there, or do you think I don't know what weight his title carries?" I practically hissed, my temper fraying. I felt my aunt stiffen under my hold. 

"Would you be so kind as to fetch us some tea, Verena?" She called loudly to the maid, who I hadn't realized had entered the living room. I looked back to see her standing demurely as always, a set of pearls in her hands. My aunt's eyes turned ice cold as she regarded the Warnian maid. 

"Ever proficient, Verena. Bringing the pearls before we asked for them," she smiled her cold smile, which had reduced men to shivering ninnies back in Demonire. The maid stood no chance. She blushed crimson at the quirk and looked down at her feet, shifting uncomfortably under the icy stare. 

"I...I had imagined they would go well with the silver gown, my lady," Verena sank in a curtsy, her eyes still trained on the ground. My back straightened. I almost felt guilty at the treatment she was receiving at the hands of my aunt, but I realized there was only so much I could feel for her. The rest of me was restless to continue the chat with my aunt, eager to understand what my father had planned to do. Because surely there was something he had thought of before  sending me here. It couldn't only be on the whim of King Edward. He had never followed his king's whims before. 

My aunt let out a practiced sigh. "They're beautiful. I'll have them put on Elizabeth. See to that tea, if you will. I feel faint," she touched her forehead, suddenly looking the picture of unease. Verena curtsied mutely and vanished from the room. They waited a beat in silence before the old matron turned to Elizabeth.  

"I do not understand. His title?" 

"The ball tonight. I was made aware that important nobility from various kingdoms have been invited. And father belongs to nobility. Important nobility," Elizabeth drawled. 

But her aunt Emily had resounding resilience, and showed it on a daily basis. Usually, her resilience only sparked general amusement and irritation, but occasionally, under certain circumstances, it vexed the living daylights off her companions. 

"And that should alter your father's current residential status because...?" 

Today was proving to be one of those days. 

Elizabeth drew in a long breath and exhaled slowly. It was difficult to hold one's temper when her aunt decided to be particularly obstinate and pestilent. 

"Why did father send me here?" She blurted, looking steadily into her aunt's eyes. 

The marchioness drew back a little, struck by her abrupt questioning. Her brows then furrowed together and she looked away from Elizabeth's blue eyes, as if in deep thought. 

"To give you a chance to choose your happiness, is it not?" Emily started carefully, unable to decide if she was comfortable at the direction in which their conversation was headed. 

"He did not send me down to the City for the season, aunt!" Eliza whisper-yelled, her temper fraying. "He did not give a flying fig to my matrimonial prospects until Warnia announced the season of Prince Thomas," she heaved, her heart getting lighter by the minute. It felt great, now that she unburdening her frustrations. She hadn't even realized how tense she had been all these days, right from the evening the Duke had informed her of the invitation sent by the Warnian Palace to take part in the Crown Prince's season. 

"You must realize you are worrying over nothing, Elizabeth," her aunt stated, her voice gentle. "Surely you understand the judiciousness of the Duke's actions. He was a fool to not send you south to the City for the season, but I do think he made up for his imprudence by accepting Warnia's invitation. And on top of that, he couldn't very well refuse royal summons, could he?" She placed a warm hand on Eliza's arm, but she shrugged it off. 

"Not our royal summons."

 "Royal summons nonetheless," Emily said firmly, plucking at Eliza's sleeves, attempting to right a gown where nothing was amiss. 

They stood silent for a moment. 

"Lizzie..." 

"Father told me King Edward demanded my presence here," Elizabeth whispered quietly, halting her aunt's speech. 

"He wasn't supposed to tell you that," her aunt said sharply, and Elizabeth looked up with flashing eyes. 

"So its true!" She exclaimed, clutching her aunt with both arms. 

She watched as Emily bit her lip, and then closed her eyes, looking remorseful about speaking at all. 

She then sighed. It was a long, heavy sound, a telling sign of the marchioness' weary state of mind. "It is true. I'm appalled that you thought the Duke would lie to you. Edward..." she cleared her throat. "...King Edward did request - "

"Ordered," Elizabeth said darkly. 

"Very well, ordered your presence here. But that is simply because His Majesty wanted to smooth ties with Warnia, and a refusal of an invitation of such lofty measures from an important peer of the realm such as your father would have been considered the height of rudeness and costed the kingdom as well as Yardwell in improbable measures!" 

Eliza pursed her lips, slightly annoyed at how her 'great' problems had been reduced to mere necessities of etiquette. "Father also mentioned about the Kingdom's dire financial straits," she told, and she watched in fascination as her aunt's color rose to a very bright and disturbing shade of crimson. 

"He should not have told you that," she spat angrily, her back suddenly ramrod straight. 

"You did say that earlier," Eliza observed, highly intrigued at bearing witness to her oh-so composed aunt's distress. 

"It bears repeating!" she punctuated, huffing. "You are a lady. You aren't supposed to know all this!" 

"But you know!" Elizabeth interrupted, outraged. 

Aunt Emily waved off her interruption. "I'm a married woman, and positively ancient as opposed to your mere twenty years." 

Elizabeth was glowering, but she couldn't stop herself. "But what am I supposed to do here!?"

"Look for prospective husbands! It is what a season is all about! What is so hard to understand about that?" Her aunt bellowed in equally high a tone. 

"Marriage?!" Elizabeth hissed, her face contorting with disgust. "I do not wish to marry!"

"Do not wish to...Elizabeth Convoy, you do not know what you speak of! You wish to run away from your own happiness? Your good future?" Her aunt wailed, color high on her cheeks. If she had looked angry earlier, she looked positively mad at that moment. 

"My good future is in - "

"My lady, the tea you requested," both Elizabeth and Emily whipped their heads to find Verena curtsying to them while standing beside the tea table, a fresh tray of tea and assorted biscuits laid on the table. 

Eliza heard her aunt inhale deeply. "Yes Verena, thank you," she said in a practiced tone, and moved away from her to the tea table. "I'll pour for myself, meanwhile you could help Elizabeth with her jewelry, yes?" 

Verena blinked, twice, before nodding her ascent and moving towards Elizabeth with the jewels from the settee. 

"Elizabeth," her aunt said warningly from behind her cup of tea, staring steadily at her. "Get ready. It is an important ball, dear." 

Elizabeth steeled her shoulders and stalked to the mirror wordlessly. It was an important ball, indeed.

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