"Ah!" Maren squeaked as Leah tightened the corset.
"Apologies, Princess," Leah said, not meeting her eyes. "I want to make sure you look perfect for the first Grand Ball of the Starlight Trials."
Maren thought Leah was acting normal — too normal for the events that had passed over the last few hours. Her smile and movements were relaxed as she prepared Maren for the night.
After her late night discussion with Cora the night before, Maren had retreated to her room. Cora confirmed Maren's suspicions that she was becoming aware of the tension between them, and more so — that she was struggling with it.
Not that Maren could blame her. They had duties to fulfill, and people to answer to but that didn't mean it didn't hurt her.
Relations with a person of the same sex wasn't illegal in Carbouran, but it also wasn't exactly talked about. It was something explained in whispers. Something you might see daily, but would not know unless you really looked, like a pair of men disappearing from a busy pub, through a door disguised as a closet that led to an underground speakeasy. Or a man leading a woman so beautiful, you don't notice the slight stubble on her chin.
Or a pair of Princesses, drawn like magnets with their knowing glances, midnight meetings and silent intimacy.
Maren gasped for breath. "Yes, well I'm really more concerned about my ability to breathe while I'm dancing."
Leah smirked. "You're going to meet all the Prince candidates tonight, my lady. Don't you want to be looking your very best?"
Maren had thought about that. She'd thought extensively on the best kind of smile to put on, the depth of her curtsy and the right gloves to wear that would accentuate the vibrancy of her marking.
She also thought about how mechanic all of this felt. When she was with her friends, she could smile easily, laugh aloud and mostly relax. Tonight, she would be putting on her best Royal mask, and look at Ariel as a romantic prospect for the first time.
It was all so exhausting.
"I suppose so." Maren muttered as Leah tortured her with corset strings.
The gown itself was made of layers of glossy fabrics that shined in the light with a corset in a darker shade between purple and brown that strangled her waist. It was customary for Princesses to wear the color of their divine marking for the ball, but Maren had chosen a pink shade with purpose.
This was a symbol of unity.
It was a signal to the royals that she was unified with Cora — but especially to the royals of Garyn who would surely be in attendance.
When she'd packed this dress, it was meant to be worn on a Prince Date or a dinner. But after last night's events, after witnessing Cora's hesitation, Maren knew that if she ever wanted any semblance of hope that Cora would trust her, she needed to be more public in her declarations of unit and trust.
They had been pit against one another since they were children, but now, their fates were intertwined and would be until the day of their deaths.
She knew that she would need Cora's support one day, and that Cora would need hers. Even if Cora wasn't ready to admit her feelings — even if her feelings were nothing more than mere curiosity like she said — they still needed to trust one another.
The sleeves of the dress dropped around her shoulders, giving it a feminine and elegant feel, yet ensured her markings were exposed.
Leah had done her makeup to her exact specifications — a simple, elegant look with small, detailed pops of pink.
Maren wanted to make sure her marking showed so that the royals knew she wasn't letting Cora dominate her, but that she was signaling unity between the princesses.
However, Maren was concerned how this would blow over with Cora and the King and Queen of Garyn. She did not tell Cora in advance, specifically because Cora would say no. She would be too afraid of her parents to do something that signaled that she wasn't the sole Empress in charge.
With veiled whispers in every corner, secret books, and strangers that only move in the shadows, Maren knew her and Cora needed to be a unified force now more than ever.
The secret meeting between The Queen and The Stranger unsettled her. They didn't have every piece of the puzzle, but Maren knew this was only the beginning.
The Kingdoms had information the empire did not.
And that, in itself, was threat enough.
"Are you ready, your majesty?" Leah asked, setting the hairbrush on the vanity. "I received word that the Star Court arrived last night. Lady Twelve is waiting in the reception room."
Maren took one last look at herself.
Her marking was her strength, but tonight, her gown was her weapon.
"I'm ready." Maren replied.
Without another word, they stood and made their way down the hall, to the reception room.
Outside the doors, Maren could hear raised voices inside.
"My lady! You are not to take the mask off in public!" Twelve's attendant, Ethan, cried.
"Blast it all!" Twelve exclaimed, trying to tear the mask from her face. "I'm older than half the damn corpses that live underneath the palace! I will do as I damn well please!"
"Lady Twelve?" Maren asked, the door now open.
Ethan and Twelve both turned to face Maren.
Ethan was Twelve's maid. An orphan boy from the gutter of the Empire, no more than ten, short and thin like a piece of straw with hair just the same. Ethan — clearly a boy, — was an odd pick for a handmaid. But then again, Twelve was odd herself and always had a soft spot for lost toys and broken things.
Maren often wondered if that was why they were so close. If Twelve had spotted something broken inside Maren.
Using an unnerving speed for a woman well over two hundred and fifty years old, Twelve pounced on Maren, pinching her cheeks through gloved hands.
"Oh!" Twelve cried out. "My sweet Maren! Look how gorgeous you are! Oh, how I could just roast you over a fire like a Holiday Pig and feed you to the Court!"
Ethan grimaced, scrunching his nose at Twelve's words.
"Lady Twelve, why are you giving Ethan a hard time about the mask?" Maren asked.
Though she couldn't see the expression, Maren knew Twelve's personality well enough to know what earned an eye roll. Maren was one of the few people to have seen her out of the mask due to her status as a Starblessed.
"I'm too old to keep up with this mask nonsense! The worms might get confused when they see a walking corpse but I'm still bloody well human! And a woman…" she said, emphasizing her words with gusto. "I deserve to glide around the dance floor in a dress fit for a Princess!"
Maren smiled softly through the pang in her gut. The Starblessed Princesses knew one thing nobody else in the kingdom did: who the Star Court really are, and why they didn't take off the masks.
Twelve stopped abruptly and turned back to look at Maren. She slumped slightly, her energy dropping like a brick from the top of a tower.
"Ah," Twelve said, patting out her cloak awkwardly, as if it had been collecting dust. "Apologies, child. I didn't mean anything by it. Please don't take what I said to heart. You know I don't wish for—"
"If I were a child of royalty and magic," Maren offered Twelve a true smile, sympathizing, "I would have feelings about my position as well — regardless of the length of time I've endured. One day, my own child might feel the same. And when I'm gone, I surely hope you will be there in my stead."
Twelve clenched her hands and released them, taking Maren's arm in hers. "Let's stop this nonsense before you and I are sobbing over a bottle and have a good night. I'm sure the Prince Candidates are more than excited to formally meet this century's prize."
Maren grinned softly as they made their way through the door. She hadn't wanted to leave things the way they were but tonight, duty called for blood.
They approached the door and the Herald when Maren asked. "When did you and the Court members arrive?"
"Early into the morning," Twelve said, an edge to her voice. "And let me tell you, Three has the snore of a damned bear. I may walk to the next kingdom myself if it means willingly spending another night listening to his monstrous noise from the next tent over."
Maren couldn't stop her laughter, doing her best not to ruin her makeup. Tonight was important, and she knew she had to be on her best behavior.
But Twelve was a bad influence in the best way.
The Herald led the two of them through the archway, toward the landing that overlooked a room filled with royals.
To call it a dinner was incredibly misleading and downplayed the event entirely.
This was a ball of grandiosity.
Much of the castle was little more than stone, older than even Lady Twelve. But this room was newer, landing somewhere between the current architectural trends and the castle's own historical charm.
The windows were large and draped with stunning green fabrics. The walls — like the rest of the building — were made of thick, historic stone. Festive decor lined the halls and bathed the space in color, light and jovial music. Anything one could want out of a party was right here in this very room.
Refreshment tables lined the outer walls, and scattered about the outer circle of the room were tables with nameplates at each seat. Off to the side was a live band playing, and in the very center of the room was the dance floor itself.
"Announcing Princess Maren Windsor of Sapphire, and Lady Twelve of the Star Court!" The Herald announced.
Maren spotted Cora immediately but Cora's eyes were not locked with hers. Cora's eyes were fixed on her dress.
Maren couldn't gauge her expression, but she could tell Cora wasn't pleased.
But then again, Maren's move wasn't one to make Cora happy. It was to unite them in the eyes of the officials.
She could scream and cry and curse Maren out, but her move had already been made.
There was no turning back now.
Maren's eyes fluttered, reacting to the pace of her heart. Her eyes locked onto Cora, taking her in. She was like a beacon among already shimmering lights.
Her red hair burned against the deep shade of her ballgown. It was red, but of the deepest shade — nearly black. The boned corset cut into a deep V in her back to the point where it was nearly scandalous, and the fabrics draped over her body perfectly.
Maren's breath hitched. She hoped this would send a clear enough message to Cora.
Cora stood beside a woman with red hair, but lighter in color than her own.
Maren knew her mother and the deadpan cruelty that boiled inside her. That family had done everything they could to keep their claws stuck deep inside Cora.
But with this new ruling by the Star Court, Maren had decided she would ensure Cora had someone on her side. Someone she could lean on without fear of betrayal or animosity.
She and Cora hadn't seen each other since the early morning when Maren had snuck into Cora's room. When Maren had made her first overt move on Cora.
Between displays of affection and dreams from the memory stone, there was too much between them to turn back now.
Stuck in a room filled with gnashing teeth, words like razors and the wolfish gazes laid upon her as she ventured down the grand stairway, Maren steeled her nerves. She straightened her spine, lifted her chin, arm locked with Twelve.
She would not let them knock her down.