Aurelia had no choice but to obey. She had witnessed the power of Tenebrarum, how a single glance from him could shatter a man's resolve. So when Sorana beckoned for her to follow, she firmly separated herself from Calvus and walked with purpose, each step a declaration of her strength.
After a long, rejuvenating bath, the heat of the water washed away the stench of the stables. The last remnants of dried blood faded slowly, turning the water beneath her a murky hue, while her hair floated gracefully around her like fine silk.
By the time she emerged, she exuded the scents of roses and jasmine. Her skin was warm and radiant, and while the memory of Marcus lingered in her heart, it no longer held the same weight—it was just a mark of her past, not a define of her future.
Sorana firmly helped Aurelia out of the tub, her movements precise and efficient. There was nothing gentle about her touch as she worked rosemary oil into Aurelia's brilliant white hair, the scent filling the room. Her fingers glided along Aurelia's arms, shoulders, and back, restoring the luster to her skin.
It felt like being polished for display, a thought that irked Aurelia.
The ball for Prince Tenebrarum loomed on the horizon, just hours away, and the morning light only intensified the pressures surrounding her. The expectations of the palace weighed heavily, a constant reminder of Tenebrarum's presence.
"These are the dresses," Sorana declared, opening a lacquered trunk filled with meticulously folded fabrics.
Each gown was a striking shade of black, deep and unwavering, adorned with sharp silver embroidery.
It was Tenebrarum's preferred color, but never Aurelia's.
"No, not that one, and not that one either," she said firmly, dismissing each gown that was presented to her. The sight of black made her stomach twist tighter with each passing moment.
Then Sorana lifted a different gown: a deep red silk edged with gold. Its shape was softer than the others, and its vibrant color boldly stood out against Tenebrarum's shadows.
Aurelia paused, her breath catching as she envisioned it against her skin, how it would catch the palace lights, and how Tenebrarum would regard her in it.
Yes, this is the dress.
Despite the thought unsettling her, she found a thrill in the idea.
She accepted the gown with a sense of purpose, convinced that it would not appeal to him—this was her conscious choice, a statement.
She refused to wear anything he might admire.
She chose not to seek beauty for Tenebrarum. Instead, she focused on embracing her own style and confidence.
But perhaps she had been wrong.
Sorana held the dress against her, adjusting the folds and lifting the fabric, while Aurelia focused her gaze on the mirror.
The reflection staring back at her was astonishing. She was human, yes—but she appeared like a dark creature born from shadow and elegance. The red gown, edged with gold, clung perfectly to her frame, striking and terrifyingly beautiful.
Too beautiful. Too much attention would be drawn to her.
She didn't want to wander into the forest to attract predators, and yet here she was, shining like both prey and predator at once. She hated herself for recognizing how stunning she looked.
She loathed that part of her mind that even dared to admire it.
"Change it!" she demanded, her voice sharp and commanding, fury crackling like electricity in the air.
Sorana remained unfazed, her hands steady as she picked up a golden pin, expertly arranging Aurelia's hair, allowing the strands to cascade like molten silk.
"I said change it!" Aurelia's voice rose, fueled by frustration, reverberating off the walls, laced with rage and defiance.
Sorana met her gaze unwaveringly. "I understand you hate Tenebrarum, my lady, but this dress is perfect for you. You will walk into the palace radiating confidence, and no one will dare to underestimate you."
Aurelia's fists tightened at her sides, her body ablaze with resentment towards Tenebrarum and the shadows that threatened to engulf her.
Yet, a compelling realization flickered within her—Sorana had transformed her anger and rebellion into an asset.
She despised that she needed to embrace this facade to thrive, but she couldn't ignore the undeniable truth: she looked unstoppable.
Perhaps she needed this to survive the forest of courtly predators. She would move to the palace with her head held high, with a confidence she didn't yet feel, but perhaps… perhaps she could survive.
---
"I want to warn you about Calvus," Sorana said, stepping closer, her hands clasped firmly in front of her, eyes locked onto Aurelia, sharp and unyielding. "I saw the way you both behaved. Tenebrarum would have your heads if he found out."
Aurelia straightened, her body reacting defiantly, fingers trembling only for a moment before she balled them into fists at her sides.
"You think you have the right to speak to me?" she retorted, her voice slicing through the tension.
"Keep your mouth shut!"
Sorana flinched slightly at the force of the outburst but held her ground, posture rigid, her gaze flickering over Aurelia as if measuring her every move.
"What does she think of me?" Aurelia hissed, taking a bold step forward, her boots echoing against the floor, her hands twitching, barely contained.
That I'm some… harlot or plaything? Calvus is a puzzle I'm determined to solve, and just because I let myself feel for a moment means I'm now a slut?
Aurelia's knees steadied, anger and shame intertwined, her grip tightening. Leaning forward, jaw set, her eyes ignited with fierce determination.
"This is it," Sorana said, her fingers deftly brushing across Aurelia's lips and jaw, adjusting her hair and the fabric with precision, leaving her looking absolutely flawless.
Aurelia's gaze flicked toward the mirror, where anger and defiance simmered just beneath her polished exterior.
She paused for a moment, feeling the warmth of Sorana's touch lingering on her skin, the subtle imprint of hands that had shaped her.
Then, without a word, she stepped back, her gaze sharp and unreadable.
With a slight bow, Sorana retreated toward the door, but Aurelia's eyes held her until the moment it clicked shut.
The room felt both empty and heavy with the echoes of touch, care, and the unasked questions that hung thick in the air.
With each stride down the stairs, her mind raced, each step imbued with purpose.
She was determined to uncover the fragments of her past, to piece together the truth about her brother, Calvus, her mother—any hint, any whisper of the secrets that had defined her life.
Her hands flexed at her sides, fingers tightening with resolve. She would find out everything. She had to.
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To be continued...