When the servant draped the long dress over her shoulders, Gwendolyn nearly staggered under its weight. The gown, in dark blue with intricate light blue flowers and white butterflies embroidered from neckline to hem, felt exquisite to her touch.
As she traced the delicate patterns with her fingers, she couldn't believe it was a hand-me-down, possibly from another performers. It was finer than anything she had ever seen, let alone worn. Even the gowns worn by opera performers she occasionally watched were not as lovely as this one.
"Sit!" the servant instructed, gesturing towards the crate that had been brought in by one of the male servants. It contained not only gowns but also pot-bottom shoes and headdresses. Using a comb, the servant brushed and parted Gwendolyn's hair. She carefully wrapped each section around, twisting and tightly plaiting the excess at the back. Though it was painful, Gwendolyn remained silent, though she couldn't help but wince occasionally.
"There, let me have a look at you," the servant said. When Gwendolyn stood and faced her, the servant gasped.
Gwendolyn touched her face and adjusted her dress. "Is something the matter?"
"I... I hadn't noticed before, but you look stunning," the servant said, and Gwendolyn felt her cheeks flush. "Who are you? Why are you here?"
Gwendolyn shook her head. "I can't tell you."
"I must know who you are, I beg of you," the servant insisted.
"I'm just a girl," Gwendolyn murmured.
"Well, then, just a girl, we need to prepare you," the servant replied, handing her a pot of rouge. "Your skin is flawless, and it doesn't require a lot of work. A bit of rouge will do."
"Thank you," Gwendolyn said, accepting the rouge and carefully dabbing a bit onto her cheeks and lips.
The servant nodded, satisfied. "Now, for your hair. What would you like to wear?"
"I don't know. I've never worn a headdress before."
"Really?" the servant asked, surprised.
Gwendolyn nodded.
"Well, we'll have to do something with that, won't we?" the servant said. She turned back to the crate, rifling through it. After a moment, she pulled out a silver headdress adorned with flowers and crystals.
"How's this?"
"It's beautiful," Gwendolyn breathed, touching the delicate flowers.
The servant placed the headdress on her head, adjusting it until it sat perfectly. "There. You look perfect."
"Are you sure? It's not too much?"
"Not at all. Now, let's get you to the performance room," the servant said. "You must give the best performance to please all the guests, especially Lord Zoltar and Lady Rosamund. They're very strict, so you have to be careful and don't make a mistake. If you do, they'll punish you."
"I will," Gwendolyn promised, her heart hammering in her chest.
Gwendolyn followed her to the performance room, where the other servants were busy setting up the instruments and preparing the space for the performance.
***
Lady Rosamund sat alone in her chamber, deep in thought. She pondered how she could outsmart her husband's plan, strategizing quietly as the weight of their desperate circumstances pushed down on her.Her mind swirled with thoughts, making her feel depressed and anxious. She didn't know how she was going to save her daughter. The only thing she could think of was to send her away from here and protect her from the horrors that awaited her.
But, how could she do it without her husband finding out? He was a ruthless man, and he would do anything to get what he wanted.
As the night crept closer, she felt a sense of deep fear. She couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen.
Suddenly, a loud banging sound broke the silence. Lady Rosamund jumped, startled.
She slowly approached the door, her heart racing.
"Who is it?" she asked in a trembling voice.
"It's me, your husband," the deep, male voice replied.
"What do you want?"
"I've come to check on you," he answered. "You've been hiding in your room for a long time, and I was worried about you."
Lady Rosamund couldn't believe his audacity. She didn't trust him, but she had no choice but to play along. With a sigh, she opened the door, steeling herself for what was to come.
"Thank you, my lord," she replied, forcing a smile.
"Are you ready for the party?"
She hesitated before answering, "Yes."
"Good. Let's go," he said, holding out his hand.
Lady Rosamund took a deep breath. She placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her down the corridor towards the dining room.
As they walked, she felt her heart hammering in her chest. She knew that tonight, something was going to happen.
The dining hall was full of guests. The servants were serving drinks and food, and the guests were chatting and laughing.
Lord Zoltar guided Lady Rosamund towards their table and seated her in a chair next to his.
"Welcome, everyone," Lord Zoltar addressed the guests. "We're gathered here today to celebrate my marriage anniversary with my lovely wife."
"Here, here!" the guests cheered, raising their glasses in a toast.
"Thank you," Lord Zoltar smiled. "Now, let's eat and enjoy the music!"
The guests clapped and cheered as the servants began to serve the food. The music played in the background, filling the air with a lively tune.
Lord Zoltar turned to his wife. "Isn't this lovely?"
"Yes," Lady Rosamund nodded with her grim expression.
He frowned, noticing her lack of enthusiasm. "Is something wrong?"
"No, I'm just tired," she lied.
"Don't worry, you'll have time to rest later. For now, enjoy the party."
Lady Rosamund remained silent. She was too busy thinking of a plan, her mind racing against time.
She was consumed by thoughts of devising a plan before the dark force arrived to take her daughter away. Every second felt crucial as she struggled to find a way to protect her child from impending danger.
As the dinner progressed, Lady Rosamund tried her best to hide her anxiety. But, inside, she was in a state of panic. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess.