Madam Lilou's shop was unusually quiet that afternoon, with no customers in sight—just her two seamstresses working silently at the back, stitching by lamplight.
"You girls will need something special," Madam Lilou said, squinting at them over her glasses.
Eloise and Heather exchanged a look.
"That's why we're here," Heather smiled.
The tailor clapped her hands like a child with a secret. "Then I have just the thing."
At her cue, the two workers wheeled out mannequins dressed in two stunning gowns.
One was deep red with delicate striped stones along the bodice, glowing even under the dim lights. Heather's breath hitched.
"Can I have that one?" she whispered.
"Of course, darling," Madam Lilou said, clearly pleased.
Heather took the dress into the changing room, practically skipping. Eloise stepped toward the other gown.
It was blue—muted and calm. There were no sparkling jewels or lace flares, only soft embroidery at the hem and the waist. Simple. Quiet. Elegant.
It felt... like her.
"You like it?" Madam Lilou asked gently.
Eloise nodded. "Very much."
"I spent more time on that one than I did on half the gowns I've sold this month," she said, a twinkle in her eye.
"Thank you," Eloise replied softly.
They left soon after, Heather holding her dress as if it were a treasure.
⸻
The bell above the bakery door chimed as the girls entered.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Fisher," Heather called brightly.
Levi turned from behind the counter, smiling first at Heather...but his gaze lingered on Eloise.
"And how are you?"
"I've been well," Eloise replied, meeting his eyes.
Levi was not like the other men in Grezeel. He was kind, unassuming—his charm rested not in power or wealth, but in quiet smiles and warm hands that worked dough into beauty.
Heather offered to fetch their order. "I'll get the breads," she said quickly, giving them space.
Eloise and Levi sat down near the window.
"Has your aunt been cruel again?" Levi asked gently.
"No," Eloise said, hesitating. "We've been invited to the king's wedding."
His eyebrows rose. "Truly? That's unexpected."
"It is," she admitted.
He smiled. "Then I'll see you there. Lady Camilla is taking me as her escort. Says she wants to introduce me to some 'serious connections.'"
Eloise's heart eased. Somehow, knowing he would be there made her feel safer.
"That's good," she said quietly.
"I'll make a fortune soon," he grinned. "Buy you a home overlooking the lake."
She laughed. "Save your fortune for yourself. That would make me happy."
He smiled, but in his eyes, there was something deeper—hopeful, uncertain.
Eloise didn't know if she could ever fully love him, but she knew she felt peace with him. That was more than most people ever had.
Heather returned with their breads. "Time to go, Elo."
Levi stood. "I'll see you at the ball."
She nodded. "See you there."
⸻
The evening arrived like a breath held too long.
Their gowns were ready. Hair tied. Gloves fitted. But Aunt Raquel's carriage was waiting with a sour expression inside.
"You look beautiful, Heather," Eloise said as they admired each other in the mirror.
Heather's red gown shimmered beneath the candlelight. Her necklace—purchased after months of savings...gleamed at her collar.
"Let's go," Heather whispered, trying not to cry.
But downstairs, the moment shattered.
Raquel scowled at their dresses. "Overdressed."
She stepped into the carriage without another word. Elma climbed in behind her, smug and silent.
Just as Eloise reached to follow, Raquel snapped, "You're not coming."
Heather froze. "But... you said—"
"Don't make a scene," Raquel hissed. "You look too proud for girls who scrub my floors."
The carriage rolled off before either of them could respond, Elma sneering from the window.
Heather's lip quivered. "What do we do now?"
"You can come with me."
A familiar voice behind them.
They turned to see Eric—their cousin—and the butler, who stood beside him.
Eric nodded politely. "My mother's behavior was disgraceful. I'm headed to the castle. Join me."
Eloise let out a slow breath. "Thank you."
Eric was quiet, always working. But he held a respected post in Grezeel's council—one of the few voices the king actually listened to.
⸻
The castle rose before them like a monument to cold grandeur. Grey stones and arched spires, softened only by torches and laughter spilling from its walls.
Eloise stepped out of the carriage and paused. Her heart raced in ways she couldn't explain. Heather, by contrast, looked as though she had stepped into a dream.
"Don't let anyone know we're afraid," Eloise whispered.
Heather nodded, squeezing her hand.
Inside the ballroom, the light dazzled.
Chandeliers danced above them, gowns sparkled like rain, and the scent of roses and wine perfumed the air.
Eloise scanned the room, her breath catching.
So many powerful faces. So many secrets behind their smiles.
Heather beamed, already drawing the attention of passing men.
A well-dressed gentleman approached.
"Good evening, my lady."