I resisted the urge to sigh. Again.
After a few days in my uncle's manor, I was starting to get an idea of how things worked in the Capital. I wasn't allowed to leave, of course, but the manor served as a small scale reflection of the world outside. There was a hierarchy that everyone had to obey, even me. Though I technically had the highest rank, I was still a guest and thus bound by the laws of hospitality to always submit to my host. My place in the Palace would be similar. As a princess, there were very few people with both the power and authority needed to reign me in, but they still existed.
Of course, my status as a Saintess offset this, but it wouldn't do to come off as arrogant right from the beginning.
None of that mattered right now, though. I sat on an obscenely expensive sofa with my back straight and my hands folded in my lap. Taylor stood behind my right shoulder, ready to serve me should I need it. A woman sat beside me. She was beautiful in a way only mature women could be and the faint lines on her face spoke of a life filled with smiles and laughter. Her dark brown hair had a few streaks of white, but they only added to her mystique. This beautiful woman was my aunt, Duchess Mathilde Shay, and the current bane of my existence.
The smile on her face was anything but sincere as she spoke to the seamstress who was showing off her wares. There were mannequins dressed in extravagant clothing and swaths of fabric strewn about. The seamstress' expression was just as fake and I pinched the flesh between my thumb and forefinger to keep a headache at bay. I hated picking out clothing. In this life and my last, I was more than happy to just wear something simple and functional. As a result, I tended to skip over dress up scenes when they showed up in my reading. If only I had the power to do that, now, too.
"Surely, you can't be serious, Madame Sucre," my aunt was saying. "Look at her. Do you really think those designs will suit her? With her body type? Where did you say your certification was from?"
The seamstress didn't even bat an eyelash. "Your Grace, you must understand. If you dress her up in anything but the latest styles, she'll be a laughing stock!" Truth.
She wasn't wrong. The original had suffered a lot of humiliation for dressing poorly. I didn't care about that, though. As long as I wasn't naked...
Scratch that. I really didn't like some of the dresses on display. I knew nothing about fashion, but the giant skirts and frills gave me goosebumps. Couldn't I just wear a priestess' outfit like the one I had on now? A Saintess was supposed to be above such things, right?
My aunt scoffed. "The issue with trends is how quickly they change. What we want—nay, what we need—is something timeless. My niece must stand above the rabble as a pinnacle of beauty and grace." Truth.
"I agree with you, Your Grace." Madame Sucre was surprisingly stubborn. A lesser woman would have given in to my aunt's demands by now, if only to avoid offending the most powerful noblewoman in Acan. "Believe me when I say I only have the princess' best interests at heart! I also wish for her to establish herself as an untouchable beauty, but going against the trends is too great a risk!" Truth.
Ah-ah. So, she was a member of the Noble Faction. Her investment in my appearance made sense now. My Coming of Age Ceremony would be my first time acting in my official capacity as princess. Naturally, I needed to look like I belonged in high society, but all this arguing seemed a little extreme. As long as I fit in, wasn't that enough?
I didn't have the courage to say so, as much as I wanted to. To be perfectly honest, they kind of scared me. If I said something they didn't agree with, they would probably tear me apart.
"Perhaps we should ask my niece for her opinion," the Duchess said with false kindness. "She is the one who will wear it, after all."
Two sets of eyes fixed their gazes on me and I had to force myself not to recoil. Aiyah~, Auntie! How could you do this to me?
"I think," I began slowly as I tried to gather my thoughts. Should I pick a side? If I did, it would obviously have to be my aunt's, given our relationship, but I wasn't sure I liked the dresses she picked out any more than the ones Madame Sucre preferred. No. Honesty was the best policy. I could only hope it didn't get me in trouble. "That I am unsuited to such extravagant designs."
Both women looked at me like I was insane.
"What do you mean?" My aunt demanded. "You're beautiful!" Truth.
The seamstress nodded her head vigorously. "She's right, Your Highness! You could dress in rags and your beauty would still shine through!" Truth.
Oho? Is that right?
"Then," I said with a hesitant bite of my lip. "Could I just wear this?"
They shared a panicked glance and began an oddly cohesive joint lecture about how important fashion was in a young woman's life. I had a hard time maintaining my demure, sheltered princess act. It was hilarious watching them try and convince me to wear something twice as big as I was, and likely half as heavy. There was even a special flared corset needed to help support all the layers and skirts. No thank you.
"I have never worn anything like this," I interjected during a rare pause in their shared monologue. "I'm sure dresses like these have a learning curve, am I right?"
Madame Sucre opened her mouth to argue with me only to visibly deflate. "Yes, I-I suppose they do." Truth.
I smiled sadly, putting on a show of disappointment. "There probably isn't enough time for me to learn how to wear them, is there?"
Of course there wasn't. There was barely enough time to have a dress made, let alone for me to practice walking around in one. If Madame Sucre's worries about me making a fool of myself were genuine, then she wouldn't push the issue. My aunt, on the other hand...
The Duchess was looking at me sadly. She reached out to take my hands in hers and it took all my self control not to pull away.
"Theophania," she began slowly. "I only want what's best for you." Truth, but not necessarily the whole truth. "If you don't meet their standards, the Nobility..."
I sighed and squeezed my aunt's hands. "It's alright, Aunt Mathilde. Most of them have probably already seen me dressed like this."
"What do you mean?" My aunt's eyes were suddenly hard and I looked away in a show of hesitance.
"A lot of Nobles came to visit me at the monastery," I told her honestly. "They'll probably laugh at me, if I try to dress like them."
"Who dares?" The Duchess' fury was almost touching. "I've heard nothing of this. Do you remember their names? I will strike them from the invitation list, those scoundrels." Truth.
Aiyah~, Auntie, should a Duchess be so easy to manipulate? I lowered my head to hide the smirk I couldn't quite contain. Good. Let those animals know how it feels to be ostracized by their peers. This was only the first step in my revenge against them, though. I wanted them kneeling before me, begging for forgiveness.
Madame Sucre interrupted the aunt-niece vengeance planning with a clearing of her throat. "Then," she began with significantly less confidence than before. "What will you wear, Your Highness?"
Ugh, not this again. "Something simple is fine," I said softly. "I am a Saintess, after all. Anything too fancy would be a bit..."
I trailed off when I saw a light go off in the seamstress' eyes. Oh no. No no no.
"I see," she said with growing excitement. "Yes, you're right! I've been looking at this all wrong! You should present yourself as a Saintess, not a Princess! That's the station that matters!" Truth.
"Indeed," my aunt said darkly, her previous anger contained but not dismissed. "There are two princesses in Acan, but only one active Saintess. Perhaps we should draw inspiration from her mother's formal gowns. The designs are available, yes?"
I leaned back in my seat as the older women began designing my dress with renewed vigor. I could only pray they would keep it simple. That was my only request. I glanced at the ruffles and frills that were apparently in fashion and shuddered.
Please, keep it simple.