Aunt Raquel sat stiffly on her velvet chair, her fingers curling into her dress as the sound of the departing carriage faded from the courtyard.
She hissed beneath her breath. "Miserable boy..."
Her voice then rose like a whip. "Come take this away!"
Eloise hurried into the room and gathered the tea tray without a word.
"I despise him," Raquel muttered, eyes burning. "That smug, arrogant creature..."
Eloise said nothing. But as she stepped out into the corridor, a small smile tugged at her lips.
It was rare to see her aunt silenced—rarer still to see someone speak down to her without consequence.
⸻
Far from the mansion, inside a moving carriage, Lord Asher sat in silence.
Odin watched him from across the seat, curious as ever. "Who was that girl?"
"The one who served the tea?" Asher's voice was low, casual.
Odin nodded.
"I believe she's one of Raquel's nieces," Odin replied. "Lady Olivia mentioned once that Raquel took in her late brother's orphaned daughters. That girl must be one of them."
Asher leaned back slightly, eyes fixed on nothing.
"Do you like her?" Odin asked, half-teasing.
"She is fascinating."
Odin blinked. "...You do?"
Asher didn't look amused.
Odin frowned, now serious. "You think she could be—?"
"She's nothing," Asher said softly. "But she felt... familiar."
Odin said nothing more. He'd known Asher long enough to recognize that look—the calculating one, the one that meant something was shifting.
"I want you to send a letter to Raquel," Asher continued. "Invite her nieces to the royal wedding."
Odin raised a brow. "Will she allow it?"
"She won't have a choice," Asher replied. "She's nothing without her staff."
Odin exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "You always have a plan."
"And the king will be pleased I'm working so hard for his wedding," Asher said, expression unreadable.
Odin leaned forward slightly. "Your mate will be there."
Asher's eyes flicked to the window.
"Finally," he murmured. "Let her come."
⸻
Meanwhile, in a cramped, dimly lit bedroom, two sisters sat side by side on a small, worn bed.
Heather's eyes sparkled. "He was a lord?"
"Yes," Eloise replied, unbothered. "Aunt Raquel called him 'Lord Asher.'"
Heather leaned against the wall dreamily. "I wish I'd gone instead."
"You don't even know him."
"If he's rich and handsome, that's all I need," Heather said, grinning.
Eloise rolled her eyes.
"Anyway, are you going to see Mr. Fisher tomorrow?"
"I don't know."
Heather turned toward her. "You like him, don't you?"
"I do like him," Eloise admitted. "But it's pointless. I'm not getting married."
"Why not? Aunt Raquel wouldn't care."
"That's exactly the problem," Eloise muttered, lying back on the bed.
Heather sat quietly for a moment. "Still... maybe happiness doesn't have to come with permission."
But Eloise didn't answer. Her eyes had already closed.
Heather sighed and leaned over to blow out the lamp.
⸻
The next morning, Aunt Raquel called them into her room.
Heather and Eloise stood quietly, heads bowed.
Raquel studied them like something unpleasant stuck to her boot.
"I don't know what you did," she began slowly, "but you've managed to secure an invitation to the king's wedding."
Both girls blinked.
"Yes, you heard me. Apparently your presence is requested. I'm not pleased about it, but I've been told I must bring you."
The girls exchanged a stunned look. Raquel waved them off with a flick of her hand.
⸻
Outside her room, Heather could barely contain herself. "We're going to the royal wedding!"
Eloise frowned. "That doesn't make sense. Why would we be invited?"
"Who cares why? Think of the dresses, the dancing, the elites! Maybe someone will finally notice me."
"You're beautiful, Heather," Eloise said softly. "They already do."
Heather smiled, but the thought was gone quickly. "We need dresses. Let's visit Madam Lilou."
"I'll finish Elma's chores first," Eloise replied.
"Of course," Heather said. "I'll go let the other maids know...they would die of jealousy."she grinned
⸻
Eloise knocked gently on her cousin's door.
"Come in."
Inside, Elma lay on her bed with two cucumber slices over her eyes.
"I'm here for your laundry," Eloise said flatly.
Elma peeled off the cucumbers and narrowed her eyes. "Do you think this will work?"
"Cucumbers are good for the skin."
"That's what you said last week. I don't trust you."
"Thanks for believing in me, then," Eloise replied, deadpan.
Elma tossed her head. "Just go. Let me know when the tailor arrives."
Eloise gathered the clothes and slipped out without another word.
⸻
Later that afternoon, Heather tugged her sister's arm. "Let's go to Madam Lilou's. Maybe she'll lend us something."
Eloise hesitated. "Why are you so set on this?"
"I just want a chance," Heather said, her voice softer than usual. "To be seen. To have a life beyond washing linen."
Eloise sighed. "Fine. Let's go."
Heather's face lit up.
"But we need to stop by the bakery after," Eloise added.
⸻
"Good afternoon, Madam Lilou," both girls greeted in unison.
The older woman smiled warmly from behind her sewing table. "Good day, Eloise. Heather."
Madam Lilou was French, a skilled tailor known across Grezeel. She had once been close to the girls' mother...and she never treated them as servants.
"We've been invited to the king's wedding," Heather said brightly.
Madam Lilou's smile faded. "The king's wedding?"
"Yes," Eloise added. "We're just as shocked as you."
Madam Lilou looked at them for a long moment, her eyes thoughtful.
"That kind of invitation doesn't come without reason," she said softly.
Neither girl responded.
She nodded slowly. "Then let's see if we can make you something fitting of such an evening."