Her stepsister quickly lost interest in the long process and went to put on her gown. She came back into the room some time later so Ashlin could lace her up. The orange of her gown colored her cheeks and showed off her hair.
“Oh, my dear.” Lady Cabril stood, clutching her heart. “You look absolutely magnificent.”
“You look truly gorgeous,” Ashlin offered, not feigning the compliment.
“Now,” Lady Cabril continued, “stop moving and let us make sure everything is perfect.” She walked around her daughter, examining every detail of her dress, face, and hair. “This curl looks a little out of place. What do you think, Ashlin?”
Ashlin considered the curl in question. “Let me see if I can pin it back under those braids.”
“And see what you can do about this ruffle, here. It does not seem to be falling correctly.”
Ashlin complied, warming the fabric of her sister’s dress between her hands to smooth it down and rub the wrinkle out of it.
“Now that,” Lady Cabril stated, “is perfection.”
Stasiya sighed in contentment and spun in a circle, her gown flowing around her.
“Do not sit down lest you wrinkle your dress,” her mother told her.
“I will not.” Stasiya stopped spinning. “Your turn, Mother.”
Moments later, Ashlin was tightening the laces on her stepmother’s gown.
“Now stand back so we can see what needs to be fixed,” Stasiya ordered.
Lady Cabril looked truly breathtaking. Her tall figure in the burgundy gown was accentuated by the high, twisting braids on top of her head.
“Mother, you are magnificent.” Stasiya clapped her hands.
Ashlin nodded her agreement. “Truly magnificent,” she echoed.
“I cannot see a single thing out of place,” Stasiya announced.
Ashlin walked around her stepmother, taking in the seams of the gown and appreciating the tucks and gathers of the fabric. Mistress Cedrice truly was a master of her craft. “Neither can I,” Ashlin agreed.
“I feel like my old self,” Lady Cabril said, placing a hand on her waist and stepping regally across the room. “No one shall stand in our way tonight.” She made a dramatic turnabout to face them again. “Oh, Ashlin, it is your turn now. But hurry, the carriage will be here in less than an hour. And the bath is probably cold. Go, go!”
Ashlin smiled and ran from the room. The bathwater was indeed cold. She quickly washed herself and hurried down to the warm kitchen to dry and change.
She had spent the day successfully avoiding any thoughts of Onric.
She slipped into the blue dress. Having had no time to adjust it to her proper sizing, it was slightly too large in her chest and waist. Hopefully, the corset-style closure would let her fasten it tighter around her body. With no one to help her into the gown, she laced the back up as loosely as possible, then slipped the dress over her head. Reaching around behind her, she found the ties and pulled them closed as tightly as she could, though she could still feel the uneven weave going up and down her back. She was used to dressing herself without a maid, but this particular gown had not been designed for someone to put on alone.
It had been months since she had worn anything other than her brown work dress. She smiled, wishing she had a mirror in the small closet-like room. It felt as though an old part of her had returned.
Her hair was next. She quickly loosened the large braids that had kept her hair clean and untangled. Running her fingers through the braids left a lovely soft pattern of curls. Perfect. She twisted them up on top of her head and tied them into place with a ribbon, hoping it would be enough to hold her hair in place.
She washed her face with the cold water from the basin in her room and patted her cheeks to bring out some color. That would have to do. It was not as though she was trying to impress a prince.
Something was missing, though. Reaching back down to her brown apron, she pulled out the small piece of glass that had broken all those mornings ago. She had kept it in her pocket since, as though she were keeping a small part of her mother with her. She slipped it under the waistband of the blue dress.
She was running out of time. The coach would be arriving any minute.
Grabbing the simple cloak that Onric had given her, she threw it over her shoulders. She had nothing else. It covered most of the dress, but it was entirely inappropriate for wearing to the ball as it was clearly a man’s cloak.
She slipped it back off her shoulders. Would her stepmother question where she had acquired it?
The moment of indecision caused her to pause. Maybe she should not even try to go to the ball at all. She could stay home and enjoy an evening without housework or palace work. She would not have to see the prince again, and now that her stepmother had forgiven her, life would go back to normal. Eventually, normal would feel almost as good as sharing a laugh with Onric.
