Father guided Mother Elowen down the stairs with careful tenderness. They descended together, sharing soft giggles as they neared the wagon. She turned to me, radiant.
"So, how is the look?"
Mother Elowen asked, her gentle smile blooming. Her lips shimmered with a delicate light pink; her makeup remained flawless, as always.
"Mother… you look like an enormous pink rose. The look is incredible."
I managed, my mouth still hanging open in awe. Tamsin nodded vigorously in agreement, her lips trembling as she drank in the sight more fully.
"Thank you~"
Mother Elowen giggled, her voice dipping lower yet brimming with cheer. Father assisted her into the wagon; the voluminous pink gown billowed and nearly claimed half the interior space. I couldn't tear my eyes away from her.
"I suppose I made it a little too big."
Father closed the wagon door with a quiet click, straightened his tie, and offered a proud, satisfied smile.
"Can you believe your mother made this herself?"
Made it herself? How? Shock rooted me in place, my mind reeling beyond words. For a moment I stood frozen. Tamsin pressed a hand to her mouth—she was equally stunned, mirroring my speechless state.
"You made this… all by yourself?"
Mother Elowen nodded, one hand rising to cover her smile as a soft blush bloomed across her cheeks, the other resting elegantly in her lap.
"Yes~ that's why it took so long."
"Wow."
We were definitely going to kill men at the party. Mother might slay even more. At first glance her gown looked simple—understated elegance—but it was anything but. The cut, the subtle shimmer of the fabric, the way it moved with her every breath… it was devastating in the quietest, most lethal way.
"You look so gorgeous, Miss Elowen…" Tamsin breathed, completely overwhelmed. "Even better than Miss Lucia—"
She clapped a hand over her mouth the instant the words slipped out, eyes widening in horror at having compared us.
"Don't cover your mouth" I said, turning to her with a grin and pointing a teasing finger. "She does look better than me."
Tamsin was absolutely right. Ahhhh—I wanted my breasts to grow bigger so badly. Then I could look even prettier, maybe steal that dress when I was older. But the real question lingered: would I ever look as beautiful as Mother Elowen in it? No, I guessed not. It was her dress, made for her body, her grace, her quiet power.
"Come on, you two," Mother Elowen said gently, smile widening behind her fingers. "Everyone looks good. Only that matters."
A few seconds later Uncle Rowan's wagon joined the line, and the trail of black carriages rolled away from the mansion walls, gliding past the front gardens in slow procession. The ride stretched long and quiet. We chatted for a while—Tamsin's soft voice, Mother Elowen's occasional laugh—until exhaustion claimed me. My head dropped gently onto Tamsin's shoulder, and I drifted off. I suppose Mother Elowen and Tamsin followed soon after; the voices faded, leaving only the rhythmic creak of wheels and the distant clop of hooves. As they say, beautiful women sleep a lot. I don't know how things were in the other wagons, but time slipped by quickly for us.
After many hours the procession finally reached the Viremont family's mansion. We passed through the towering main walls and entered the sprawling gardens—manicured hedges, torchlit paths, the faint scent of evening-blooming flowers drifting through the open windows. That was when Mother Elowen stirred, deciding it was time to wake us.
"Lucia… Tamsin… wake up. We have arrived."
I snapped awake in an instant, eyes hazy and heavy, the world still soft around the edges. I wanted to burrow back into sleep for just a little longer, but there was no time. Tamsin woke next, letting out a small, sleepy yawn before blinking at her surroundings. She quickly straightened, smoothing her borrowed kirtle and forcing the drowsiness away.
I struggled to keep my eyes open, lids drooping rebelliously, but somehow I managed. We ladies quickly fixed our makeup—touching up lipstick, smoothing stray hairs, brushing away smudges—while the wagons continued their slow progress through the garden toward the mansion's main gate. The air outside had grown cooler, scented with jasmine and anticipation, and the distant glow of lanterns promised music, laughter, and whatever the night would bring.
We finished touching up our looks—lipstick refreshed, stray hairs smoothed, gloves straightened—until everything felt fresh and tidy. When the wagon finally rolled to a stop, two butlers stood at the front gates flanked by a small line of servants. They opened the doors with practiced deference.
First came Morwenna's wagon. The butlers helped her down carefully, voices low and respectful with formal greetings as she stepped onto the stone path.
Then it was our turn. They repeated the process—doors opened, hands extended. Mother Elowen emerged first, graceful and composed. I followed, skirts whispering as I descended, and Tamsin came last, her hand briefly squeezing mine for courage before she stepped out.
"We are pleased to have you," one butler said in a deep, respectful tone. "Mr. and Mrs. Viremont have been awaiting your arrival."
We nodded in acknowledgment. He added, "We will inform them of your arrival right away."
One of the butlers turned and disappeared inside the mansion to announce us. We completed the remaining formalities—small bows, murmured thanks—then walked toward the front gates. Tamsin was uncomfortable at first, shoulders tight, eyes darting as though expecting disapproval. But everything seemed fine. Morwenna had seen her—clearly—but hadn't reacted. Bringing a favored servant to a party wasn't unusual; the key was remembering Tamsin was more than that. She was my friend.
We stepped inside the mansion, passing through the main silent hallway. Only our footsteps echoed off the marble—soft clicks from Mother Elowen's heels, the faint rustle of Tamsin's borrowed kirtle, the steady rhythm of my own. None of us spoke; we simply held ourselves elegantly, chins high, spines straight. I kept Tamsin close by my side, arm lightly linked with hers in case the grandeur overwhelmed her. I could tell we'd arrived earlier than expected—few voices drifted from the main hall ahead, only the distant murmur of servants preparing and the soft crackle of fires being lit.