"Lady Evangeline, please hold still. I may accidentally prick you with a pin if you keep moving around." Madame Beauchamp stood back and regarded Eva with a critical eye. She was a formidable woman, well-known for her skill with a needle and exacting standards for dressmaking.
Eva couldn't help but squirm under her scrutiny. She hated being fitted for new dresses, especially when they were intended for a wedding she didn't want. The news of her marriage to Crown Prince Kael Aldrynn had sent shockwaves throughout Lysoria. Everyone, it seemed, was eager to speculate about the impending nuptials.
Eva's parents had arranged everything, of course. They cared little about her wishes and more about the prestige of having their daughter as the next queen. "If only they could feel my humiliation," Eva muttered. But of course, they wouldn't. They were too caught up in their own ambitions to care.
Madame Beauchamp cleared her throat pointedly. "Pardon me, Lady Evangeline. If you cannot remain still, we must start over again."
With a huff of impatience, Eva stilled herself once more. The sooner this ordeal was over, the better. "I'm sure someone as renowned as you, Madame Beauchamp, is accustomed to dealing with fidgety ladies. My apologies, nonetheless."
"Yes, indeed." The seamstress's tone held a note of irritation. "However, in those cases, said ladies tend to value my services more than you do. I make gowns for brides who appreciate my work, not those who view it as a chore."
"I merely detest being on display," Eva clarified, meeting the seamstress's stern gaze with unwavering directness. "I refuse to apologize for disliking the circumstances I'm being forced into."
"Well." Madame Beauchamp adjusted one last piece of fabric before stepping back. "As we speak, there's a man in another room expressing similar discontentment regarding a particular bride." With a firm tug, she removed several pins from the gown, causing Eva to gasp in surprise. "Arms up," she commanded, and Eva complied, allowing the garment to be taken off. "Now, stand in the mirror over there." As Eva positioned herself accordingly, the seamstress began making adjustments.
"My prince and I clearly share a lack of enthusiasm for this union. Small mercies," Eva remarked sarcastically. Inhaling deeply, she redirected her attention to Madame Beauchamp. "What is your opinion on arranged unions, Madame Beauchamp?" she asked, genuinely curious.
Madame Beauchamp arched an eyebrow before answering. "While my opinion remains insignificant compared to the weight of responsibility resting upon the royal shoulders, I believe the notion archaic and utterly incompatible with true affection."
"You know what?" Eva asserted firmly, crossing her arms. "That's precisely why I dislike it as well! If I ever find myself enamored with anyone, it will be entirely by choice, not obligation!" She turned around abruptly, almost toppling a stack of fabrics. "Furthermore—" Eva suddenly halted mid-sentence as she perceived her sister, Isolde, approaching. A radiant smile graced Izzy's features, and her beautiful azure dress swayed gracefully with each step. "My Izzy looks absolutely breathtaking, doesn't she?" Eva remarked, her eyes fixed on Madame Beauchamp's reflection in the mirror.
Clearing her throat, Madame Beauchamp responded, "Indeed, she does."
"Sister, you look radiant!" Izzy exclaimed as she joined them. "Mother will be most pleased with your work, Madame Beauchamp."
Eva forced herself to return Izzy's infectious grin. "Thank you," she murmured, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the thought of their mother. "But it's all due to the expertise of the dressmaker, not me." Observing the warmth emanating from Izzy, a twinge of guilt flickered in her chest. The thought of leaving her younger sister behind to deal with their mother's tyrannical ways made Eva feel sympathy for Isolde.
"Finished." Madame Beauchamp stepped back to admire her handiwork. "Lady Evangeline, you can take that off now."
"At last!" Eva exclaimed, exhaling in relief. "I must admit, I'm not overly fond of these lengthy fittings. They're positively boring."
Madame Beauchamp arched an eyebrow as she began packing up her tools. "I'll have the dress delivered to your estate in two weeks, Lady Evangeline."
"Thank you," Isolde responded quickly.
Eva suppressed a groan as if she needed yet another reminder that this marriage was going to happen. But as she glanced at her younger sister, Eva reminded herself she would not be alone in enduring this farce of a union. "Yes, thank you," she managed to say, her voice almost convincing.
Quickly, Eva removed the dress with Madame Beauchamp's help. She dressed in her daywear, relieved to be free of the oppressive finery. After the seamstress left, a deep sigh escaped her lips. "Oh, Izzy...how on earth am I to endure this?" she asked, more rhetorically than anything.
"With fortitude," came Izzy's reply. "By the way, have you forgotten that we have been cordially invited to a private tea with the royal family this afternoon?"
"Oh, bother..."
"Come now, sister, it's not as dreadful as you make it sound."
"If you say so. But I fear I will be unable to keep from gagging at all the cloying sweetness we're about to face."
After leaving the parlor arm-in-arm, they ran into the crown prince. Eva tried to smile and appear pleasant but struggled to maintain her composure. However, Isolde's infectious cheerfulness helped put Kael at ease. "Your Highness, allow me to introduce my younger sister, Lady Isolde Callenwood. Izzy, this is the Crown Prince Kael Aldrynn, my betrothed."
Kael's lips twitched up into a small smile as he greeted Isolde. Little did Eva know, Izzy had met the prince before in private. "Lady Isolde," Kael said, his voice smooth as silk. "A pleasure to officially meet you."
"Likewise, Your Highness," Isolde responded with a grin.
"Yes, yes. A pleasure, indeed. Now, if you would be so kind as to excuse me, I have matters to attend to," Lady Callenwood interrupted, shooting Kael a pointed look. "Izzy, dear, we must be going." Eva tugged Isolde along, giving her fiancé one last withering look over her shoulder before hopping into the carriage.
As the carriage rolled away, Kael watched it go. He shook his head, chuckling slightly to himself. The sisters were night and day—Lady Isolde, soft and sweet like a kitten; Lady Evangeline, sharp and fierce like a lioness. He had no doubt that the latter would be a formidable opponent if she chose to be, but for now, he had more pressing concerns.