When Emilia entered the dining room, the warm scent of freshly brewed tea and baked bread greeted her senses. She was immediately aware of Prince Dorian seated at the long, polished table, looking up from a document with a faint, unreadable smile. However, what caught her by surprise was the presence of Selene, her lady-in-waiting, who stood quietly near the side with face still looking pale and drawn.
Emilia's brow furrowed slightly as she walked toward them, taking in Selene's obvious exhaustion. The young woman had only just returned to her manor after a long period of sick leave. She knew all too well the likely cause of Selene's condition, which was related to Emilia and Alistair's honeymoon trip.
"Selene," Emilia greeted, her voice soft but concerned, "I didn't expect to see you here so soon. Are you feeling any better?"
She gave a small, stiff bow before replying in a quiet, hoarse voice. "Yes, my lady. I'm much better now. I wanted to return as soon as I could to resume my duties."
Emilia studied her for a moment, unconvinced. The dark shadows under Selene's eyes and the pallor of her skin betrayed her words. Even if her sickness had passed, it was clear she hadn't fully recovered.
"I'm glad to see you're back, but you still don't look well," Emilia said gently, stepping closer. "You should take more time to rest."
Selene hesitated, her eyes briefly flicking around. "I assure you, my lady, I am well enough to serve you today."
Emilia pursed her lips. She had no intention of letting Selene push herself when she wasn't fully healed. It wasn't just about her physical condition, it was clear to Emilia that Selene's pale appearance had a deeper emotional layer, one that likely stemmed from the complexities between them.
"I appreciate your dedication, but today, I'll be going out for quite some time. Countess Evelyn will be accompanying me, so I want you to stay here and rest. You've already done so much, and I need you to be at your best for when things get busier."
Selene blinked, her lips parting as if to protest, but Emilia's tone left little room for argument. There was a softness in her command, but it was still a command. After a moment of hesitation, Selene bowed her head.
"As you wish, my lady," she said quietly, though there was a hint of reluctance in her voice.
Emilia gave her a small, reassuring smile. "Good. I want you to focus on getting better. We have a lot to prepare for in the coming days, and I'll need you rested and healthy."
When Selene nodded and quietly excused herself, Emilia turned her attention to Prince Dorian, who had been patiently waiting.
"I see you take great care of your people, Crown Princess," he remarked with a faint smile. "Though I must admit, your lady-in-waiting seems rather stubborn."
Emilia took a seat across from him, her expression thoughtful as she reached for her cup of tea.
"She is dedicated, and I appreciate that about her. But sometimes, people need to be reminded that they don't have to push themselves beyond their limits." She paused, looking at Prince Dorian. "I suppose you know something about that, Your Highness."
Prince Dorian raised an eyebrow, a flash of amusement crossing his face. "Ah, yes. Royal duties do have a way of demanding more than we often expect." He leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze sharpening. "But I imagine you're no stranger to such pressures yourself."
Emilia smiled, though her mind briefly drifted to the many responsibilities that had weighed on her recently. "Indeed. But that's why I've learned the importance of balance."
They fell into comfortable conversation about the day's plans, with Emilia explaining her ideas for the Queen's birthday celebration, while Prince Dorian occasionally offered his input. Though there was an underlying tension whenever his words hinted at the expectations of royalty, the girl remained resolute in her decisions, particularly when it came to making the event something that reflected the Queen's modest nature rather than the kingdom's wealth.
As they spoke, Emilia couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. With Countess Evelyn's assistance, she felt more prepared to handle the tasks ahead. Today's survey of the fabrics and further preparation for the celebration felt like the beginning of something significant, and with Prince Dorian's involvement, she knew she had to tread carefully but wisely.
***
The boutique was filled with an array of fabrics, each more dazzling than the next, hung neatly in rows or draped across tables. Emilia, Prince Dorian, and Countess Evelyn walked slowly through the space, carefully inspecting the materials with a discerning eye.
Countess Evelyn picked up a bolt of shimmering silk and ran her fingers over it. "This one is quite elegant," she remarked, holding it out for Emilia to see. "The fabric was a deep, luxurious shade of crimson, catching the light in a way that made it glow."
Emilia nodded, appreciating the fabric's beauty, but her mind was on the purpose of their visit. "It is beautiful, but it feels too extravagant for the Queen's tastes," she said thoughtfully. "I want something that reflects the simplicity and modesty she prefers. Something local, handmade."
Prince Dorian, who had been quietly observing the selection process, stepped forward, picking up a bolt of finely woven linen. His movements were deliberate, his fingers tracing the intricate pattern embroidered into the fabric.
"This is what you're looking for. It's woven by artisans from the western provinces of the kingdom. Their techniques are passed down through generations, and each piece is done by hand."
Countess Evelyn raised an eyebrow, impressed. "You know your fabrics, Your Highness," she remarked with a hint of amusement in her voice.
Emilia turned her attention to the linen in the man's hands, intrigued by his knowledge. "Tell me more," she prompted, her curiosity piqued.
Prince Dorian smiled, clearly pleased with the opportunity to explain. "The threads are hand-spun, which gives the fabric its unique texture. It's not as smooth as imported silks or velvets, but there's a certain charm in its imperfection."
He pointed to the subtle floral embroidery along the edges, "The patterns you see here are inspired by ancient designs, representing the wildflowers that grow in the countryside. The artisans use natural dyes derived from local plants, giving the fabric its rich, earthy tones."
Emilia's eyes lit up as she listened, her admiration for the craftsmanship growing. "It's perfect," she said, running her fingers over the linen. "The Queen will appreciate the effort that went into making this. It's simple, yet full of meaning."
Countess Evelyn, too, seemed impressed. "It's quite rare to see such intricate handwork these days," she added. "Most nobility prefer imported fabrics. However, this material feels far more personal."
Prince Dorian nodded in agreement. "Exactly. The Queen's birthday celebration is an opportunity to showcase the talents within our own kingdom. Why rely on imports when we have artisans right here who can create something just as beautiful?"
Emilia exchanged a glance with the Countess, who smiled approvingly. It was clear that the man's suggestion was in line with what they had been aiming for, something that was not only beautiful but also celebrated the kingdom's local craftsmanship.
"Do you think the Queen will like it?" Emilia asked, turning to Prince Dorian.
He gave her a confident nod. "I think she'll love it. This fabric speaks to who she is, someone who values tradition, simplicity and the heart of the kingdom. It's not about the extravagance of the material, it's about the story it tells."
Emilia smiled, feeling more certain about their choice. "You're right. This is exactly what I wanted. Thank you, Prince Dorian."
"Just doing my part," he replied with a humble shrug, though there was a hint of pride in his eyes.
As they continued to browse, Dorian's knowledge of fabrics became even more apparent. He pointed out subtle details in other materials, how certain patterns were unique to specific regions, the way different weaves reflected the history of the kingdom's textile industry, and the methods by which artisans worked painstakingly to create each piece by hand.
Countess Evelyn chuckled softly at one point. "You know, Your Highness, I didn't expect you to know so much about fabrics. You've certainly outdone both of us."
Emilia laughed, nodding in agreement. "I must say, I'm impressed."
Prince Dorian chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I've always had an interest in craftsmanship. My travels have taken me to different parts of the kingdom, and I've spent time with artisans and craftsmen. It's fascinating to see how much pride they take in their work."
Emilia regarded him with newfound respect. It was rare to find someone of his status who appreciated the finer details of such things.
"It's good to see that you understand the importance of local work," she said. "I think we often forget how much skill and dedication goes into these creations. They deserve to be recognized, especially on such an important occasion."
Countess Evelyn nodded in agreement. "Indeed. And if we're showcasing the best of the kingdom's talents, this fabric will do just that."
With the decision made, the tailor approached them, taking note of the fabric they had chosen. "An excellent choice, my lady," he said with a bow.
The three continued walking around to examine the other materials, which made them even more amazed by the color and beauty of the collection there.
"My lady," Countess Evelyn said, her eyes glancing between the fabrics and Emilia, "I think it would be wise for you to have your measurements taken as well, so we can ensure everything fits perfectly for the upcoming celebration."
Emilia blinked in surprise, her focus momentarily distracted by the rich silks before her. "My measurements?" she echoed, glancing at Prince Dorian, who seemed indifferent to the suggestion.
"Yes," the Countess continued. "After all, the Queen's gown is important, but so is your attire. We must make sure you look just as elegant beside her."
Emilia hesitated for a moment, weighing her options. She hadn't initially planned on having her own gown tailored, wanting to keep the focus entirely on the Queen, but she could sense the importance of making a good impression for the occasion. After a moment's thought, she nodded in agreement.
"Very well," Emilia said. "Let's take care of it."
The tailor bowed and gestured toward a private fitting room in the back. Emilia followed him, leaving Prince Dorian and Countess Evelyn to continue their discussion. The room she entered was small but elegant, lined with mirrors and hung with delicate gowns on trolleys, all ready for display.
When Emilia stepped inside, she expected to be greeted by one of the assistants. Instead, to her surprise, she found herself face-to-face with Alistair, who was standing near a rack of garments with a mischievous smile on his lips.
Her brows shot up in surprise. "You?" she exclaimed softly, her eyes widening. "What are you doing here?"
Alistair grinned, clearly enjoying her reaction. He stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over her with an appreciative glint. "You didn't think I'd let someone else take your measurements, did you?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.
Emilia's cheeks flushed at the implication, though she quickly recovered, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. "I didn't expect you here at all."
Alistair chuckled and gestured to the trolleys of fabrics. "I have my ways of knowing where you'll be, and it just so happens I'm very skilled at this sort of thing," he said, picking up a measuring tape with a wink.
Emilia gave him a pointed look. She could hardly believe he had managed to find his way into such a private moment, though knowing Alistair, she wasn't all that surprised.
"Shouldn't you be working on something more important?" Emilia teased, though her words lacked any real heat. She was too caught off guard by his presence and the sudden shift in their dynamic.
"Everything involving you is important," Alistair replied smoothly, stepping closer, the playful gleam in his eyes never faltering. "Now, let me do my job, unless you'd rather someone else touch you in such intimate places?"
Emilia felt a thrill run down her spine at his words, but she tried to keep her composure, uncrossing her arms and giving him a knowing look. "Very well," she said, pretending to be unbothered by the situation. "But behave yourself."
He gave her a sly smile, clearly enjoying every moment of her reaction. "I always behave."
***