The grand entrance of the palace stood eerily quiet under the fading light of dusk, save for the occasional rustling of leaves and the soft hum of a distant breeze. Alicia stood near the towering gates, her posture straight but clearly tense. The gown she had chosen—a simple yet elegant piece—felt stiff and slightly uncomfortable, its fabric clinging to her in all the wrong ways. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, brushing an invisible speck of dust off her skirt, her unease written all over her face.
Beside her, Matilda hummed an upbeat tune, her excitement radiating in stark contrast to Alicia's discomfort. The maid's hands were clasped behind her back, and she occasionally rocked on the balls of her feet as though she could hardly contain herself.
Alicia shot her a sidelong glance. "You seem overly thrilled about this," she muttered, crossing her arms.
