***
The carriage ride south was long—a week and a half filled with painful small talk and many awkward silences. Her mother and father danced around the subject of her engagement. Her mother occasionally filled the silence with chatter about the sunny weather or the fashions she expected to see at the ball. Her father hardly said a word, choosing to spend the time with his nose buried in a book.
Elizabeth spent most of the trip clutching a book to her chest as well, as if it were a teddy bear, a tether to normalcy.
The only reprieve she had was when they stopped at inns along the way to relieve themselves and stay the night, where she could have moments of blessed solitude and the tension could finally leave her shoulders. At night, she would lie in bed staring at the ceiling, attempting to reassure herself that she had made the right choice.
As they neared Ambrosia, the landscape changed from rolling hills speckled with wildflowers into leagues of apple orchards and vineyards. They passed rows and rows of neatly tilled grape vines, and the smell in the air grew earthier, like the scent of freshly turned soil.
They skirted the city of Ambrosia, and their carriage made for a wide cobblestone road that ended in a manor of cream coloured stone. The grounds before the manor bloomed with hundreds of red roses. Marble statues and trickling fountains could be seen throughout the gardens, half obscured by waist-high flowering bushes. The sculptures they passed were of fierce-looking archers and swordsmen—a testament to the fearsome warriors of House Howard. Gardeners wearing straw sun hats lifted their faces to watch their arrival.
Their carriage rolled to a stop outside Howard Manor, and despite herself, it took her breath away. Two imposing statues stood on either side of the doors, one of the Sun God and the other of the Sea God, both enormous and so lifelike that it looked like their robes were rippling in the wind. The manor itself was large enough to be a castle, with more crimson blossoms bursting from everywhere she looked. A white banner bearing a red archer rippled in the wind above the highesttower—the sigil of House Howard.
A footman helped her out, and she noted with no small sense of wonder that the stone beneath her feet was carved into the shapes of roses and leaves. It was a manor fit for a princess.
It was far beyond her wildest expectations for her future home. Elizabeth’s father and mother cast glances at her as they walked to the door, as if to say,we told you so.
A housekeeper welcomed them at the door, and servants took their bags, leading them inside. Tapestries hung around the entrance hall, bearing the sigil of House Howard—as if she were liable to forget where she was. Everywhere she looked, she was met with cream walls decorated with gold accents. Elizabeth found herself awed at the extravagance, even though she would never say as much to her parents.
Trailing behind the housekeeper, images of what her life would be like here filtered through her mind: going for walks in the gardens, reading under the shade of an apple tree, spending her evenings dressed in silks, and having enough gold to buy herself anything she ever wanted.
She didn’t know if it would make her happy, but perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. Surely any woman in the kingdom would be overjoyed at the prospect of elevating her family and living in such luxury.
The housekeeper showed them to their guest chambers, and they were left to explore their rooms. The extravagance of the outside of the manor was matched within, and her mother gushed over oil-paintings framed in gold, and masterfully crafted marble busts that stood in both of the adjoining rooms. Elizabeth studied a bust carved of a handsome man in the chamber she was given. Her eyes flicked to the plaque at the bottom. Duke Howard’s father. She narrowed her gaze in suspicion as she took in the chiseled jawline—either Duke Howard’s mother had been rather unfortunate looking or the artist had taken certain liberties with the sculpture.
With the ball set to begin in just a few hours, their maids and her father’s manservant unpacked their belongings and helped them get ready.
Elizabeth suffered through her maid making her look fit to capture the duke’s heart. Between painstaking hours spent on her hair and makeup, and her mother hovering, commenting, and tutting from behind, she started to grow irritated. Had she not already agreed to the match? What use was there in dressing her up more than usual, and making her feel like a pig being led to slaughter?
Her maid slicked her hair back and swept it up into an updo secured with silver hairpins. It was regal and severe looking, as if she was not allowed to wear the plaited hairstyles of youth anymore. Elizabeth preferred the messy braid it had been in all day.
She eyed the diamond necklace her maid draped over her collarbone. Perhaps the membership to such a family was not without price.
She bit her lip, and an image of Caspian’s hellish eyes flitted in her mind.
He would have already left Briarton by now. Perhaps that too, was for the best.
Her maid raised her brows, waiting.
Wanting to roll her eyes, Elizabeth released her lower lip, and allowed her maid to paint her lips a cool toned pink.
The neckline of her lavender gown was more promiscuous than she would have liked, the tightly laced corset squeezing her ribs and forcing her cleavage upwards. The skirts had many heavy layers and she knew it would be heavy to walk in. Duke Howard would be pleased—the dress looked remarkably difficult to run away in. Lavender pearls dotted her ears and encircled her wrists. She looked every inch the lady of a proud noble house.
A knock sounded at the door, and Elizabeth’s mother opened it to admit Charlotte, followed by Lord and Lady Harrison. Charlotte ran to her and gave her a quick hug while their parents exchanged pleasantries.
“We missed you on the trip south,” Elizabeth said, smiling warmly.
Charlotte chuckled. “Yes, Mother and Father seemed to not want to intrude on you and your betrothed tonight. We are staying at an inn in Ambrosia for the night.” Lord Harrison frowned, looking tired, and Charlotte snickered, “My father couldn’t get out of the ball this time, my mother insisted he accompany us.”
Elizabeth chuckled. Lord Harrison was renowned for his dislike of court functions, and at balls often hid himself among the gentlemen, letting his wife do most of the socializing for their family.
Another knock echoed across the chamber, and a servant dressed in white entered the room and bowed. “Lords. Ladies. If you please follow me.” Charlotte and Elizabeth exchanged a look, and she followed her parents down halls decorated in cream tapestries bearing red archers.
Once it was Elizabeth’s turn to be presented, she noted that many members of the high nobility were in attendance tonight. Of course, the queen never left her palace in Calyx, but nearly everyone else was here to offer their congratulations to her and Duke Howard.
Everyone’s head turned when she entered, and she held her head high as she felt a hundred pairs of eyes on her.
Her eyes lit on Duke Howard, who watched her arrival with a smug expression. Her father stood beside the duke, smiling, a betrayal in itself.
