The tears fell freely, and she didn’t even bother to hold them back. There was no stopping the rain beneath a gray sky.
“I don’t believe in magical beings bestowing favors. We make our own stories,” Luci whispered.
Something drew Brielle’s attention, and her answering smile was what stories were made of. “Perhaps it’s a bit of both.”
Twisting her body, Luci turned to see the most beautiful gown she had ever seen in her life. Light blue silk shimmered beneath carefully intricate silver swirls and delicately placed strawberries that at first glance looked like simple designs. The long sleeves were perfectly crafted to a point at the end, and the neckline was straight across, adding a sense of drama. It was perfection, not at all the frilly, tulle dress that Brielle had designed for herself.
Was it possible for a person to be paralyzed with fear? That was how Luci felt staring at the dress and knowing all at once what had happened. What was happening, rather.
“There isn’t much that takes your breath away,” Brielle said, her voice thick with emotion.
With mindless steps, Luci walked towards the gown, seeing nothing except what it meant. The room was silent except for herown shaky breaths and the careful hum of something profound. Her hands were strangely steady as she reached for the silk and traced one of the delicate strawberries inlaid into the expensive fabric.
“Your father-” she began.
“Was wrong,” Brielle said with infinite strength as if she had saved all her energy for this moment. “He’s always been wrong about you, Luci. You are as a part of me as my own soul; if you do not belong at Blythe, then I don’t either. You are ours, Luci.”
Light above, this feeling was destroying her. Finding all her insecurities and flawed parts and cracking them into a thousand little pieces. It choked her and cradled her. Her salvation and doom.
“She’s right.” Lady Treveon spoke with all the grace of an aristocrat. “There is no Blythe without you. Stefan may not see it, but we all do.”
Luci lifted her eyes to Lady Margaret, perhaps seeing her for the first time. Most of the time, she was a simple woman who cared more about fine things and social climbing than anything else, but there was a kindness to her that was unique and beautiful.
“Lord Treveon will be furious,” Luci said, shaking her head and regretfully stepping away from the gown.
“He will never know,” Brielle said, a coughing fit taking her.
All thoughts of balls and clandestine meetings were ripped away by the air fighting for purchase within Brielle's lungs. Luci knelt at the bedside, placing her hand over Brielle’s chest, feeling for the crackle and pop that meant fluid had gotten into her lungs, but none ever came, and it was like gasping for air after being submerged under water.
When Brielle caught her breath, she smiled, though it was weaker than before.
“It was meant to be a surprise. You and I are going together, but magic has its own plans.”
It was an effort not to correct her that magic wasn’t real, but it felt like a cruelty against what she was already facing. The ball had meant everything to her. The answer to every dream and secret hope she kept locked in her heart.
“What a scandal that would have been.” Luci sniffed.
Brielle snorted. “Father probably would have been as red as our strawberries, but it would have been worth it. To claim you for all to see, but instead, I am afraid I must ask this favor of you. To go as me.”
“Mrs. Blakesley has agreed to sit with her until you get back and follow any instructions you leave, though she would have you know she’s plenty capable of taking care of her all on her own.”
Even though it was Lady Treveon who said the words, all she heard was Mrs. Blakesley in their severity. If Luci were going to trust Brielle to someone, it would be her.
It was as if they were chiseling away at Luci’s resolution one word at a time.
“This is what you want?” Luci asked, begging Brielle to say no.
Brielle never hesitated. “It is.”
Defeat was a well-worn pair of shoes and a lonely road.
The sigh came first, then, “I hope the shoes are comfy.”
Chapter four
The Ball
Beloved by the young fairies tasked with watching over her, the Sleeping Princess was known for her gentle and kind nature. It is no wonder that a vengeful fairy took note of her. Though rare, rogue fairies were not entirely avoidable. The best one could hope for if one noticed them was that an equally powerful and good fairy counteracted their curse. As was the case with The Sleeping Princess.