"Please, please, please, please," Rielle chanted, clinging to Reese's arm like a koala.
"No," Reese replied flatly, lying face-down on her bed.
"You haven't even heard what I'm asking—"
"You want me to go somewhere. That's already a no."
"It's just a little trip!" Rielle whined, now climbing onto the bed like a determined puppy. "We're going shopping for Claude's birthday. I want to pick something perfect."
Reese slowly turned her head, her expression blank. "Shopping requires walking."
"You don't have to walk! You just have to come. Sit next to me. Nod at things. Be my moral support."
"That sounds like a trap."
"It's not!"
"I will see people."
"Possibly, yes."
"…Ugh." Reese dramatically flopped onto her back. "My body is already shutting down from the thought."
Rielle giggled and hugged her sister. "Come on. I'll feed you sweets all day."
That got Reese thinking. Very slowly.
Before she could answer, the door opened and in walked the Duchess—elegant, ever-composed, and armed with motherly authority.
"Oh, good," she said. "I'll come with you two."
Reese's eyes widened a millimeter. "...Why?"
"Because I haven't had a proper outing in weeks. And because you'll be more likely to behave if I'm there."
"Behave?" Reese muttered. "I barely move."
"Exactly."
---
The maids moved quickly, dressing Reese like she was a particularly unmotivated mannequin. Ruffled sleeves, soft pastels, gentle ribbons. One of the maids whispered, "You look lovely today, milady."
Reese blinked. "I look like a frosted pastry."
"Yes, milady."
---
At the carriage, the knights helped her up the steps like she was an injured princess.
"Do I look sickly or lazy?" she asked the nearest one.
"Both, milady."
She nodded, satisfied.
Inside the carriage, Rielle bounced in her seat. "First we'll go to the jewelry shop, then the tailor, then the chocolatier, and then—"
Reese closed her eyes. "Please let this be over before it starts."
"I'm excited!" Rielle beamed.
"I'm excited this day will eventually end," Reese whispered back.
---
At the first stop—a glittering, gold-trimmed jewelry boutique—Rielle and the Duchess dove straight into the rows of gemstones and cufflinks.
Reese immediately claimed the velvet settee in the corner like it was her life raft.
Other nobles were browsing too, casting curious glances her way.
One young lordling made a move to approach—flower in hand—but was intercepted by a very alert Rielle.
"Oh, there you are!" she cried, grabbing her sister's arm and dragging her to the Duchess. "Mother, look how good Reese looks! Isn't she glowing?"
The boy was left blinking alone with his posy.
Reese deadpanned, "You saved me from human interaction."
"You're welcome," Rielle grinned.
---
Shop after shop, Reese followed like a sleepy shadow. She sat in chairs, couches, benches, and one time on the floor. No one stopped her.
At the final stop—a boutique lined with velvet and lace dresses—Rielle and the Duchess vanished behind racks of fabric, cooing over embroidery.
Reese sat on a tufted chair by the mirror, head tilted, eyelids halfway down.
"Miss Fairy?"
Her eyes opened. A small boy stood in front of her, smiling brightly.
Reese frowned. "Who?"
"You," he said. "You're the fairy."
She stared at him.
"…Do I know you?"
He gasped. "It's me! Abel!"
"Abel who?"
He puffed his cheeks. "We met at the garden! At my uncle's engagement party."
Reese stared blankly.
"My uncle is Count Claude."
"I don't know your uncle."
"Oh really?" Abel's face fell.
Then he stood up straight and bowed dramatically. "I'm Abel Sinclair. I'm six. I like frogs. And we met in a garden, and you let me sit beside you and you didn't even yell at me."
Reese squinted.
Abel tilted his head. "You called me weird."
"Oh," she said slowly. "That was you."
Abel beamed. "Yes!"
"Right. Sad fairy and melting lady. Got it."
Abel sat beside her again, grinning.
Then—
"Oh!" Rielle gasped as she stepped out from behind a rack. "Abel! What are you doing here?"
Abel perked up. "I'm with my papa. We're buying buttons."
The Duchess emerged next, raising a brow as she spotted her daughter and the child seated like old friends.
"Reese…" she said slowly. "You're speaking with someone… not related to you?"
Reese shrugged. "I guess."
Duchess Elaine gave her a look. Suspicious. Impressed. Mildly horrified.
"I see."
Just then, a familiar, calm voice echoed from behind the velvet curtain.
"Abel?"
Count Theodore appeared, elegant and handsome in his dark coat. His gaze moved past his son—and landed on Reese.
A flicker of surprise. Recognition. And then—
A smile.
"Oh," he said. "It's you."
Reese blinked slowly. "It's me."
Theodore turned to the Duchess and Rielle. "My apologies for the interruption. Abel wandered off again."
"He's very charming," Rielle said cheerfully.
"He's very persuasive," Reese mumbled.
Theodore looked down at Abel. "You weren't bothering the lady?"
"She said I'm weird again!" Abel said proudly.
"She says that to everyone," Rielle whispered.
The Duchess stepped forward, ever so graceful. "Count Theodore, would you join us for tea this afternoon? As thanks for keeping our daughter… entertained."
Reese looked up sharply. "I wasn't—"
The Duchess ignored her. Theodore nodded politely.
"I'd be honored."
Rielle smirked. Anne, peeking in from the door, beamed.
Reese slouched further in her chair.
This day just got longer.