I didn't die. Fortunately, it was in fact just a bad cold. A week and a half after it started and was back on my feet. A little wobbly, but standing.
Standing well enough that I successfully managed to deliver both the fruit basket and the opera ticket to Viktor, and I didn't even faint this time.
The look in his eyes said he was expecting it the entire time.
I chose to ignore this.
The months until the opera passed somehow much more quickly than the week until the ball had, even with multiple boring tea parties and other social features I'd had to attend.
Maybe it was because I had less anxiousness this time?
Maybe the cold had left my sense of time all out of wack still.
I don't know.
But when i wasn't busy being distracted with Ophelia's tiresome duties, I focused on selecting an appropriate dress for the opera.
And by 'appropriate' I mean 'as dazzling as possible'. I'm a Weideman. If I have to put up with all the politicking because of it, I can also splurge because of it.
A bright, flattering gown of a stunning shade of gold is made, complete with embroidery on the hem and train and lace and cuffs.
Personally, I'm in love just looking at the dress. It fits perfectly, too. And is far, far fancier than anything I wore back in the old world.
"You look like a princess!" Nessa tells me, clapping her hands.
"She looks like a goddess."
The words come from my mother, her voice filled with pride. "Or a queen. There's not a single flaw."
Her smile is approving and delighted. It's always lovely to see her pleased, but it's doubly so when I'm doing something she wants.
She brushes a hand against my sleeve, humming happily to herself as she inspects the quality and workmanship of the dress.
"Even if no one else will pay attention, your father will be most pleased to see you wear such a fine dress tonight. Ah. Do be careful not to catch the eye of one of those petty nobles who'll try to set their sights on you."
Her eyes flick to Nessa briefly and then back to me, and there's an unspoken request in there.
"Make sure to maintain your distance and don't give them the opportunity to talk to you too much. Of course, if they should persist...let them know they are beneath your consideration. A Weideman can marry the emperor himself if she desires."
"Mother," I say, rolling my eyes. "I promise, I don't want to get married to any of them."
Because I'm very in love with a commoner. Who is wonderful and handsome.
"Good!" She kisses my head in approval and steps back, checking to see if anything is out of place before she leads us back down the hall, ready to go to the opera.
Nessa stands a little bit off to the side, hands clasped in front of her. She smiles at us as we pass. She looks so happy.
I wave as we're off. "Wish me luck!"
"Good luck! I'm sure everything will go just fine!" Nessa says encouragingly.
I walk to the carriage with Mother and Father.
The opera is hosted in a large building at the edge of the city, a mansion that belongs to the wealthy family who throws it every year.
They have several extravagant performances each year - some fancy parties, the opera, a ballet, etc. - and they're quite well known for it.
"Behave," Mother reminds me, giving me one final glance to make sure everything's in order as the carriage rolls up.
"Mother. I always behave."
Father snorts in amusement and holds his hand up. "Just don't get in trouble, alright?"
"You both wound me. I'm not some reckless wild girl." I duck into the carriage, stifling a laugh, as he raises his brow at me. I think I've been caught.
They wait for me to get into the carriage. But I get in alone.
I feel like a kid on prom night, sitting in the backseat by myself as I'm driven to the event.
In the end, my parents don't join me. They will take their own carriage, so that they can leave when they wish to without worry of collecting their wild daughter.
As I stare at my reflection in the small mirror on the wall of the carriage, my eyes are sparkling with excitement and nervousness. My makeup is done to perfection, and my hair is up in a complex arrangement, with delicate pearls threaded through.
It took at least two hours and a small army of maids to make this happen.
My dress is perfectly fitted.
It's like I'm wearing a sculpture that a team of seamstresses and artists built specifically to my body.
My hair's full of ribbons and pins and pearl accessories. My earrings are ornate, and match my hair accessories.
There's a slight sense of vertigo. This isn't me, and yet it is. I'm used to the idea, by now, that I'm Ophelia, not Adelaide.
But this is the most made up I've ever been - this opera a far more important event than random naming day balls - I've never seen such a stark difference between Ophelia and Adelaide as I do looking into the mirror now.
I'm...beautiful.
Rich.
Powerful.
And...I'm about to see the man I've loved across two lifetimes.
When the carriage stops, I swallow and force my nerves aside, my expression hardening into one of aloof amusement, as I've seen my mother's face when she wants to present a certain image of herself.
I look every bit the beautiful, refined, noble daughter of a great merchant and scholar family.
A footman opens the door, offering his hand.
I accept it and step out of the carriage.
I take a deep breath as I gaze up at the imposing front of the house. It's bigger and taller than most of the ones on our estate, with elaborate windows and a pillared front entrance, and...fabric and bunting covering the front to lend a festive atmosphere.
I walk up the steps, the servants nodding as they offer greetings to me, and I nod to them as I stride confidently inside.