Anastasia leaned closer to Drizella, whispering urgently, "Did she just call you sister-in-law?"
Cinderella blinked. "You didn't secretly marry someone during the dance, did you?"
Drizella opened her mouth to respond, equally bewildered, when a familiar presence stepped between her and Lady Selene with quiet authority. Rowan. He positioned himself slightly in front of Drizella, protective but composed.
"Selene," he said evenly, "what are you doing here?"
Selene's smile widened with unmistakable amusement.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" she replied. "I came to meet my sister-in-law."
Rowan sighed softly. "You enjoy creating chaos."
"I enjoy clarity," she corrected lightly. Then she turned toward the sisters. "Allow me to correct the confusion. I am Selene, Rowan's younger sister."
Silence. Anastasia's eyes widened. Drizella's lips parted. Cinderella blinked twice as realization struck harder than the music echoing through the hall.
"Rowan's... sister?" Anastasia repeated slowly.
Cinderella stared at Rowan with newfound astonishment. "You are from that household?"
Rowan raised a brow. "Which household?"
"The one known for serving the royal family for generations," Cinderella clarified. "The family entrusted as personal guards to the kings since the founding era."
A few nearby nobles glanced subtly in their direction, as if the name alone carried historical weight.
Rowan gave a small nod. "Yes."
Drizella turned toward him in disbelief. "You never mentioned that."
"You never asked," he replied calmly.
Selene laughed softly. "My brother prefers to pretend he is an ordinary man with a sword."
Rowan gave her a warning look. Anastasia folded her arms lightly. "You guard a prince as if it were a casual hobby."
"It is my duty," Rowan answered simply.
Before further interrogation could continue, an elegant couple approached, their bearing refined yet warm.
"Selene," the woman called gently. "Rowan."
Selene brightened immediately. "Mother, Father."
Drizella instinctively straightened, nerves fluttering beneath her composure.
The man before them carried quiet authority, his presence disciplined yet kind. The woman beside him observed the sisters with attentive curiosity.
"We were told our daughter had vanished into conversation," the mother said with a smile. "I see why."
Selene stepped forward eagerly. "These are my friends."
Friends. Drizella blinked again. Rowan's father studied them briefly before nodding approvingly. "We had the pleasure of hearing your poem this evening," he said to Drizella.
Her breath caught.
"It was remarkable," his mother added warmly. "A talented female poet is a rare treasure in our country."
Drizella felt heat rush to her cheeks.
"Your courage on stage speaks of strong character," the father continued. "Our nation could use more voices like yours."
Rowan watched her reaction with unmistakable satisfaction. Embarrassment colored her expression, but pride flickered behind it.
"Thank you," she managed softly. Selene looped her arm through Drizella's playfully. "See? I told you. Sister-in-law suits you." She whispered.
Drizella glanced at Rowan, who did not deny it. Instead, he simply smiled. And for the first time that evening, the sisters realized the world they were stepping into was far grander than they had imagined.
As conversations warmed around Rowan's family, a richly dressed merchant with silver-threaded cuffs approached, bowing respectfully.
"Lord Armand," he greeted Rowan's father. "Lady Elowen. A pleasure as always."
Rowan inclined his head politely while Selene stepped aside, though she remained close enough to listen.
The merchant sighed dramatically.
"I face a difficulty. My latest shipment of silk arrived late from the southern ports. The nobles expect new designs before winter court begins, yet the tailors complain they cannot work without proper patterns. My reputation suffers."
Rowan's father listened thoughtfully. "And the cause?"
"Transport delays and miscommunication between suppliers," the merchant replied. "By the time materials arrive, demand has shifted."
Cinderella, who had been quietly observing, tilted her head. "Why not prepare versatile base designs?" she suggested gently. "If you create adaptable patterns that can be modified with minor alterations, tailors won't need to wait for entirely new concepts. You could release limited previews to gauge interest before full production."
The merchant paused mid-sentence. He stared at her. "That... would reduce waste," he murmured. "And shorten turnaround time."
Cinderella blinked, surprised at the attention. "It is only a thought."
"A sharp one," he said with growing admiration. "Young lady, you possess excellent business instinct."
Anastasia's mind sparked instantly.
This was the opportunity she had been waiting for. "Sir," she began carefully, stepping forward, "my father once owned a modest clothing business. After his passing, it... struggled. We lack capital and guidance. If one wished to restart such a venture, what would you advise?"
The merchant studied her more closely now. "Reputation first," he answered. "Even small beginnings require clear identity. Start with one signature strength. Do not attempt everything at once. Partner with reliable tailors. And most importantly, understand your market. Listen to what people need before deciding what to sell."
Anastasia nodded thoughtfully.
"And secure steady suppliers," he added. "Without consistency, even talent fails."
She smiled faintly. "Thank you. That is invaluable advice."
Cinderella looked at her sister curiously.
Anastasia's gaze gleamed with quiet calculation. She now knew exactly what Cinderella could become. Not a rescued maiden. But a strategist.
The music swelled again as the celebration carried on. Laughter grew louder, conversations richer, alliances quietly forming between dances and desserts. Drizella received congratulations from strangers and nobles alike. Rowan remained near her without appearing possessive. Adrien moved with diplomatic ease, careful and composed.
By the time the final musicians packed away their instruments, candles had burned low and the moon had claimed the sky fully.
The sisters walked back through dim corridors together, heels echoing faintly.
"I cannot feel my feet," Drizella groaned dramatically.
"You conquered a stage," Anastasia replied. "You can survive a hallway."
Cinderella stifled a yawn. "Let us not survive separate rooms tonight."
They reached Drizella's chamber and collapsed onto cushions and bedding without ceremony.
Silk loosened. Pins removed. Laughter softened into tired sighs. Too exhausted to return to their own rooms, they decided wordlessly to remain there together. Three sisters tangled in blankets.
Three futures shifting quietly. And beyond the walls, the palace slept, unaware that change was already weaving itself into tomorrow.
The sisters had barely finished loosening their braids and unlacing the last stubborn ribbons when a soft knock brushed against Drizella's chamber door.

They froze.
"At this hour?" Cinderella whispered.
Before anyone could answer, the door opened just enough to reveal two familiar silhouettes. Adrien. Rowan. All three sisters stared.
"You cannot simply walk into a ladies' chamber," Anastasia hissed under her breath.
"And yet," Adrien replied lightly, stepping inside, "we have."
Rowan closed the door quietly behind them, far too comfortable for a man trespassing royal etiquette.
Drizella folded her arms. "Should we scream?"
"You would wake half the palace," Rowan noted calmly as he moved toward her side.
Cinderella squinted at him suspiciously. "You. Son of the most prestigious guard lineage. Pretending to be ordinary."
Rowan raised a brow. "I never claimed poverty."
"You let us believe you were simply a man with a sword," she accused dramatically.
"I am a man with a sword," he replied.
Adrien laughed softly.
"Deception by omission," Cinderella declared, pointing at him. "Very scandalous."
Rowan placed a hand over his heart. "I feel deeply wounded."
"You should," she said, though her eyes sparkled.
Meanwhile, Adrien had crossed the room without ceremony and, to Anastasia's complete disbelief, lowered himself onto the cushions beside her. Then, without asking permission, he rested his head gently on her lap. Anastasia stiffened instantly.
"What are you doing?" she whispered sharply.
"Resting," he answered with infuriating calm.
"You cannot just-"
"I can," he murmured, eyes closing. She glared down at him. But she did not move him.
Drizella covered her mouth to hide a grin. Rowan leaned casually against the bedpost near her, arms crossed but gaze unmistakably soft.
"You are enjoying this too much," Drizella muttered.
"Immensely," he replied.
Conversation loosened quickly after that.
They spoke of the poem, of Selene's dramatic entrance, of the merchant and Cinderella's unexpected business brilliance.
Adrien opened one eye lazily. "So we have a poet, a would be queen, and a future entrepreneur under one roof."
"And an overconfident prince using my lap as furniture," Anastasia snapped quietly.
He smiled without looking up. Rowan chuckled. "He has been unbearable since morning."
"Love does that," Cinderella teased.
Adrien lifted his head slightly. "Be careful. I may begin giving speeches."
"Please don't," all three sisters said at once.
Laughter filled the room, soft but unrestrained. Time slipped easily between them. Eventually, the hour grew too bold even for recklessness. Adrien sat up slowly and looked at Anastasia. No jokes this time. Just certainty. He leaned forward and kissed her gently. Not rushed. Not hidden. Intentional.
Cinderella immediately covered her eyes with both hands. "I see nothing."
Across the room, Rowan brushed a strand of hair from Drizella's face and kissed her with quiet affection. Cinderella peeked through her fingers. "I definitely see too much."
The men finally stepped back. "We should leave before dawn accuses us," Rowan remarked.
Adrien squeezed Anastasia's hand once more. Then they slipped out as quietly as they had entered. The door closed. Silence lingered. Cinderella dropped her hands and sighed dramatically.
"I require a separate kingdom."
The sisters dissolved into tired laughter before finally surrendering to sleep.
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