I gave Tamsin one of my old kirtles—a deep red one embroidered with delicate white flower patterns—and dressed her up carefully. I applied makeup with gentle strokes, combed her hair until it fell smooth and shining, coaxing strands into place. She was a little worried about the whole thing, hesitant at every step, but I pressed on anyway, determined. I was just finishing the lipstick—soft red to match the gown—when she spoke again.
"Do you really think it will be alright for me to wear this? And makeup?" Her voice was quiet, laced with doubt. "I'm just a servant."
Yes, of course it was alright. I gave the final touch, a careful glide of color across her lips, then stepped back. She looked like a gentle flower cradling winter droplets in its petals—soft, comforting, exactly as she had always been.
"You are my friend as well," I said, smiling brightly. "No one will say a thing. Besides, you look better than you think."
Tamsin looked down, as though convinced I was lying to spare her feelings. I stepped off the bed and took her hand, guiding her toward the full-length mirror.
"But what about—"
She started another reason, another excuse, but then her eyes met her own reflection. She froze.
The girl staring back was beautiful—quietly, undeniably so. The red kirtle hugged her frame with elegant simplicity, the white flowers catching the lamplight like tiny stars. The makeup softened her features without hiding them, and her hair framed her face like dark silk. For the first time, she saw herself the way I always had.
Maybe now she had some small understanding—twenty percent, perhaps—of why I cried every time I wore something pretty and looked in the mirror. Why the sight of oneself, finally aligned, could feel so overwhelming.
"I… look pretty…"
Tamsin's voice cracked, barely above a whisper. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but she held them back—barely. Then she threw her arms around me in a tight, desperate hug, giggling through the emotion, the sound muffled against my shoulder. For that brief, perfect moment, all her worries dissolved; she shouldn't have worried in the first place.
"Thank you…" she managed, voice thick. "You are the best friend I've ever had."
I wrapped my arms around her in return, smiling even as her words made my own eyes sting. A small, stubborn tear escaped anyway. Don't worry, Tamsin. I won't let you go this time.
"So are you~"
The sound of doors opening snapped us apart. We both turned toward the entrance. Father Cedric stood there, breathless, chest heaving as though he'd sprinted the length of the mansion.
"…Haa… Go to the main gates," he panted. "Your grandmother is a little angry and I… will go get your mother."
Before I could even nod, he spun on his heel and hurried away again, footsteps fading fast down the corridor.
Tamsin and I exchanged one quick, shared smile—bright, conspiratorial—then hurried toward the main hall. When we arrived, Uncle Rowan was there, hastily adjusting the lapels of a thick black suit over a maroon shirt. He'd clearly changed in a rush.
Looks like Morwenna had scolded him for trying to take a "break." Even she knew better than to believe his excuse about relaxing. He wasn't escaping anything; he was just being dragged back into line.
"Grandmother scolded you, right?" I said lightly as I passed him, voice dripping with mock sympathy.
His smile twisted into something sad and resigned, corners drooping. I giggled at the pathetic expression on his face, then kept walking toward the main doors without waiting for a reply.
When we passed through the giant main gate, a cold breeze swept over us, sharp and sudden, carrying the scent of morning grass and oiled leather. Ahead stretched a line of black wagons, their shiny metal frames gleaming under torchlight, horses stamping and snorting, ready to pull. Drivers moved among them, checking reins and wheels with quick, practiced hands, searching for any last-minute fault.
Morwenna was already climbing the steps of the lead wagon, skirts gathered in one hand as she disappeared inside.
Tamsin shrank behind me the moment she saw her. Morwenna would certainly have issues with the makeup, the red kirtle borrowed from my wardrobe—issues that would inevitably fall on me. Punishment was coming, no doubt. But who cared? How bad could it be? With Father on my side, she wouldn't dare go too far. A flash of adorable innocence, a well-timed pout, and the storm would pass. I'd survived worse.
I helped Tamsin into the second wagon while Morwenna settled into the first. She took a brief glance out the window as she smoothed her dress across the seat—her eyes sliding over me without lingering long enough to notice Tamsin hiding in my shadow.
"Well, you and Elowen have outdone yourselves," Morwenna said, voice casual but edged with exhaustion and a worn-out thread of anger. "From you I expected this, but Elowen… immature."
I met her gaze evenly. "Maybe we did, but no harm done. We're still on time."
She closed her eyes, leaned back against the cushioned seat, and pressed two fingers to her temple, massaging in slow circles. She looked truly exhausted—face pale, shoulders heavy, no energy left even to argue. She didn't reply, didn't look at me again.
So we ignored her.
We climbed into the wagon directly behind hers. There were plenty to choose from—why ride with her sour mood hanging over us the entire journey? Besides, I had no intention of staring at Morwenna's face for the long ride ahead. The door clicked shut behind us, muffling the world outside.
Only a few moments later, Mother Elowen and Father appeared. They were holding hands, every bit the picture of a devoted couple. But her dress—it was pure fantasy made flesh. A grand gown in vivid pink, cinched by a corset adorned with lavish white ruffles. An almost absurd profusion of frills cascaded everywhere. Delicate pink ribbons graced the corset's edges like tender bows. Her hair was loosely gathered, soft waves framing her face, a single white flower nestled among the strands.
Mother Elowen resembled an enormous pink blossom sculpted by nature itself. For an instant she looked impossibly young—so youthful that I thought I was gazing at an entirely different woman. I had never seen her this breathtaking before, not even in my previous life. My eyes widened; my mouth fell open. I stumbled out of the wagon in a daze.
"M...Mother~"
I tried to call her name, but my voice shrank to the barest whisper. Heat flooded my cheeks—I was blushing fiercely. I'd completely forgotten about Tamsin beside me, though I suspect she felt the same stunned awe.