The chamber was quiet except for the steady, rhythmic whisper of the brush moving through Aurelia's hair. Gwen stood behind her lady, her hand firm but gentle, each stroke deliberate as if she could untangle the thoughts knotted in Aurelia's mind along with her hair. The pale evening light slanted through the tall windows, falling in soft gold across the floor.
"You've been frowning for half an hour," Gwen said, breaking the silence.
Aurelia's eyes lifted to the mirror, but she didn't look at her reflection — only past it. "Have I?"
"Yes you have that look," Gwen replied, tilting her head as she studied her lady's face. The one you get when you're already somewhere else in your head. It's that faraway stare. I've seen it before .... usually before something unpleasant."
Aurelia gave a faint smile, though it barely curved her lips. "Tomorrow I leave for Caelmont. What else would occupy my mind?"
"You're thinking of the worst before it's even happened," Gwen said, smoothing a strand of hair between her fingers. "That's dangerous work for the spirit."
"It's not as if I have the luxury of hope," Aurelia murmured.
"You have me," Gwen said simply, meeting her lady's gaze in the mirror. "And tomorrow, when you stand before them, I'll be right there behind you. If they glare, I'll glare back. If they whisper, I'll whisper worse."
That drew a small laugh from Aurelia. "Your glare against an entire court? You'd lose."
"Maybe," Gwen said with a shrug. "But I'd go down fighting. Don't underestimate me," Gwen replied. "I've been perfecting it since I was twelve."
The sound of the door opening cut their words short.The door banged open without warning, slamming into the wall.
Calista came in without knocking, the skirts of her deep green gown whispering against the floor. Her lips were already curved in a smirk, and there was a dangerous brightness in her eyes.
"Well," Calista drawled, "isn't this cozy? A lady and her… pet."
Aurelia's jaw tightened. "What do you want, Calista?"
"Well, sister," she began, strolling further inside as if she owned the place, "it looks like I'll be joining you on your little trip to Caelmont."
Gwen paused mid-brush. Aurelia's brow furrowed. "Why?"
Calista's smile widened. "Because I wouldn't want to miss the show, dear sister. Hearing about your humiliation secondhand simply wouldn't satisfy me."
Aurelia turned in her chair. "You?"
"Mm." Calista's smile widened. "Father's agreed. I simply couldn't resist. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, after all."
Aurelia's brow creased. "Opportunity for what?"
Aurelia's voice chilled. "The 'show'?"
""To see it," Calista said without hesitation. Oh, don't be coy. The trials. The public spectacle where they'll strip away the last tatters of your dignity and show everyone what's underneath.."
Calista's eyes glittered. "I don't want to hear the story later ... I want to watch it unfold.
I want to watch you fall. Up close."
"That's cruel," Gwen said sharply.
"I am honest," Calista countered sweetly
Calista ignored her, her attention fixed on Aurelia. "You've been hiding in this cursed tower and our father's protection for too long. Tomorrow, you'll stand in front of all of Caelmont, and they'll finally know what you are."
Aurelia's fingers tightened around the armrest, but her voice was steady. "And you gain what from this?"
"Oh, so much," Calista said with a mock sigh. "I've been speaking to Father about making better use of Neris. He shouldn't waste himself on you. The Lord of Winter deserves someone who isn't cursed."
Gwen took a step forward. "You don't speak for Lord Neris."
Calista's laugh was sharp. "And you don't speak at all, servant. But since we're all sharing truths ... Aurelia, you don't deserve him. You never did. I'm glad the curse marked you. It suits you."
"Calista...." Aurelia began, but her stepsister spoke over her.
"Get ready for your trials in Caelmont, sister. When they see your face, the whole realm will know what I've always known ....you're hideous. Monstrous. And after that, no man will so much as look at you without turning away."
"That's enough," Gwen snapped, her voice shaking with fury. "You will not—"
The slap cracked through the air before she could finish. Gwen staggered back a step, her hand flying to her cheek, where a red mark had already begun to bloom.
Calista's voice dripped venom. "Know your place, maid. You're nothing here. Nothing but a pair of hands to scrub and serve. Remember that."
Aurelia was on her feet in an instant, stepping between them. "You will not lay a hand on her again."
Calista leaned forward, her smirk twisting into something ugly. "And what will you do if I do? Glare at me? Hide behind your veil and hope I'm scared?" She gave a bitter laugh.
"No, I think I'll enjoy tomorrow. You and your little maid ... both pathetic in your own ways. You deserve each other."
She turned toward the door, pausing just long enough to toss one last look over her shoulder. "Sleep well, sister. It's the last peaceful night you'll have."
The door closed behind her with a sharp click.
Silence settled over the room. Gwen still stood where she'd been struck, her fingers lightly touching her cheek.
Aurelia reached for her, cupping her face gently. "I'm so sorry, Gwen. I should have..."
"Don't," Gwen interrupted, shaking her head. "You can't protect me from her tongue or her hand. But I don't care. I'm here for you. That's all that matters."
Aurelia's throat tightened. "I hate that she can hurt you because of me."
"She can't," Gwen said simply. "Not in any way that matters. I'll be with you in Caelmont. And when they look at you tomorrow, I'll be the one standing behind you, reminding you that you're more than anything she or they say."
Aurelia pulled her into an embrace, holding her tightly. The brush lay forgotten on the table, the strands it had gathered catching the light from the window. Outside, the wind had picked up, tapping at the shutters like restless fingers.
Tomorrow, the journey to Caelmont would begin. But tonight, in the quiet of her chamber, Aurelia clung to the only certainty she had left ...that in a world determined to see her fall, at least one person would never let go of her hand.