The golden morning light filtered through the palace windows, casting long shadows across the marble floors as Elara rushed through the halls, clutching a bundle of fabrics in her arms. Her heart pounded against her ribs, and her mind raced with calculations. The day's schedule was packed with fittings and last-minute adjustments for the royal banquet, and she had barely slept the night before.
The incident with the ruined silk still lingered at the back of her mind, but she had no time to dwell on it. Not today. Today, she had to be perfect.
Her destination was the East Wing, where Lady Evelyne and several other nobles awaited her expertise. The palace corridors seemed even longer than usual, filled with bustling attendants and murmuring courtiers. Elara dodged a pair of gossiping noblewomen and nearly stumbled as she rounded a corner—only to collide headfirst into a solid wall of steel.
Or rather, into Sir Alden Greaves.
He caught her by the arms before she could fall, his steel-gray eyes glinting with quiet amusement beneath his dark hair. "In a hurry, are we?"
Elara blinked up at him, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I'm late for Lady Evelyne's fitting," she muttered, stepping back quickly. "And I can't afford to be."
Alden's lips quirked into a half-smile. "That explains the wild look in your eyes." He glanced down at the bundle of fabrics in her arms. "Need a hand?"
"I—" She hesitated. "No, I can manage."
Alden didn't look convinced. Without waiting for her to protest further, he plucked a few rolls of silk from her grasp. "Consider it a knight's duty to rescue damsels in distress."
Elara sighed, falling into step beside him. "I'm not a damsel," she muttered.
"I noticed," he said with a grin.
They walked briskly through the halls, Elara's mind already focused on the tasks ahead. She barely noticed the glances cast their way by the palace staff—though Alden, with his usual easy confidence, seemed entirely unfazed.
"You know," he said after a moment, "you shouldn't let people push you around so much."
Elara glanced at him. "I don't."
Alden arched an eyebrow. "Really? Because it seems to me that the palace is testing you every step of the way. And you're letting it."
Elara bit her lip. "I'm doing what I have to. The court values results, not excuses."
He studied her for a long moment before sighing. "You're too stubborn for your own good."
Elara shot him a sideways glance. "And you're too nosy."
"I prefer observant."
Before she could retort, they reached Lady Evelyne's chambers. The double doors were flanked by two guards, who barely spared Alden a glance as they allowed Elara inside.
Inside, Lady Evelyne lounged on a chaise, surrounded by her attendants. The noblewoman's piercing blue eyes flicked over Elara with thinly veiled impatience as she entered.
"You're late, Miss Fairwind," Evelyne drawled, her voice as smooth as silk and twice as sharp.
Elara dipped into a respectful curtsey, ignoring the tightness in her chest. "My apologies, my lady. There was a slight delay."
Evelyne waved a delicate hand. "Let's hope your skills make up for your tardiness."
Elara took a steadying breath and unfurled the gown she had prepared—a rich garnet velvet trimmed with delicate gold embroidery. The fabric shimmered in the morning light, and for a fleeting moment, she felt a swell of pride.
But Evelyne's expression remained unreadable as she examined it. "It will do," she said at last. "Begin the fitting."
Elara stepped forward, kneeling to adjust the hem as Lady Evelyne stood. She was acutely aware of the murmurs of the other noblewomen nearby, their whispers full of amusement and thinly veiled contempt.
As she worked, she felt a sudden tug on the fabric—too sharp, too deliberate. A sinking feeling settled in her stomach as one of Evelyne's attendants, a blonde woman named Lady Celeste, gasped dramatically.
"Oh dear," Celeste purred, "look at that—there's a snag in the stitching."
Elara's hands stilled. A snag? That wasn't possible. She had checked every inch of the gown herself. Carefully, she examined the fabric, and sure enough, a single thread had been pulled loose. A tiny imperfection—one that Evelyne's sharp eyes were quick to notice.
"A shame," Evelyne murmured, looking down at Elara. "I was under the impression you were a perfectionist, Miss Fairwind."
Elara's face burned, but she forced herself to stay calm. "I assure you, my lady, I can fix it."
Evelyne tilted her head, lips curling in mock sympathy. "I certainly hope so. After all, the Queen will be in attendance tonight. You wouldn't want me to look... anything less than perfect, would you?"
"No, my lady," Elara said, her voice steady despite the knot in her stomach. "I'll have it fixed immediately."
Evelyne waved her off, turning to her attendants with a smirk. "See that you do. I'd hate to see such potential wasted."
Elara gathered the gown quickly and exited the chamber, feeling the sting of humiliation settle deep within her chest. She barely noticed Alden waiting outside until his voice cut through her thoughts.
"Trouble?"
Elara sighed. "Nothing I can't fix."
He studied her for a moment before nodding. "Come on. Let's get some fresh air."
Alden led her to the West Garden, a secluded part of the palace grounds where the roses climbed high along the stone walls and the scent of lavender drifted in the air. He leaned against a carved marble bench and watched her pace, his arms crossed.
Elara held up the gown, carefully examining the snag. "It's sabotage," she muttered. "One of Evelyne's ladies must have done it when I wasn't looking."
Alden nodded thoughtfully. "Court politics."
Elara sighed. "I should have been more careful. They're just waiting for me to slip up."
Alden smirked. "Then don't give them the satisfaction." He reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a small sewing kit, handing it to her.
Elara blinked at him in surprise. "You carry a sewing kit?"
"Don't ask," he said with a grin. "It's saved my life more than once."
A reluctant smile tugged at Elara's lips as she took the kit. Sitting down beside him, she carefully began re-stitching the snag with quick, precise movements.
"I can't let them win," she said softly.
"You won't," Alden said, watching her work. "Because unlike them, you actually have talent."
Elara bit her lip, focusing on the needle in her hand. For the first time since she arrived in Eldoria, she felt a little less alone.
As the final stitch fell into place, she held up the gown, the flaw now invisible. She turned to Alden, relief flooding her expression. "Done."
Alden nodded approvingly. "See? No battle too small for a knight's favor."
Elara laughed softly. "Thanks, Alden. I owe you one."
He smirked. "Just remember that when I need a favor of my own."
Elara rolled her eyes, but deep down, she was grateful.
She had fixed the dress. Now, she just needed to fix her standing in the court.