A Royal Trap

On Mission's Way - Part 1

The days that followed the Great Domestic Debate were taut with a hopeful, frantic energy. The moment their morning chores were complete, Doria and Eden would bundle themselves against the bitter cold and set out for their Aunt Rosalind’s mansion on the hill, dragging a reluctant Elowyn in their wake.

“Hurry, El! The early bird gets the silk!” Doria chirped one morning, her breath a cloud in the frosty air.

“The early bird also gets frostbite,” Elowyn muttered, pulling her scarf higher. “And Aunt Rosalind isn’t a worm. She’s a dragon, and it will take a whole day to convince her.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Eden said, though she shivered in agreement. The world had been blanched white by a fresh snowfall, and they trudged through the thick powder, the silence broken only by the rhythmic crunch-crunch-crunch under their boots.

Suddenly, a dark shape dislodged from the laden boughs of a pine tree. It landed with a soft whump and a spray of snow directly in their path.

A collective shriek pierced the quiet. Eden stumbled back with a yelp, tumbling into a drift. Doria clutched her chest. Elowyn simply took a sharp step back, her eyes wide.

“Kaelas!” Eden exclaimed, swatting at the snow now clinging to her woolen skirts as she scrambled up. “You great, lumbering oaf! You’ve frozen my heart solid!”

But Doria, recovering with a flash of her brightest, most strategic smile, scrambled forward and locked her arm around his. “You absolute terror! We are on a vital mission to Aunt Rosalind’s,” she explained, her voice bubbling with conspiratorial glee. “We must beg, plead, and flatter our way to funding our transformation for the Royal Ball. You are going, aren’t you? You simply must save at least two dances for me. Promise?”

Kaelas, however, seemed only half-listening. His gaze drifted past Doria’s eager face to where Elowyn was carefully, silently brushing snow from her cloak. “Are you going, Elowyn?” he asked, his voice quieter, the boisterous energy from his ambush gone.

Eden answered for her, looping her own arm through Elowyn’s with a firm, sisterly squeeze. “She is. Of course she is! We are all going to dance and be charming and find suitors.” She added, more quietly, as if to herself but loud enough for all to hear, “We must think of our future.” Her eyes flickered toward Elowyn with a pang of protective anxiety. Her younger sister lived in daydreams and pages, a habit Eden feared was both an escape and a trap. What would become of them if they did not seize this chance?

“Of course she’s coming,” Doria chimed in, her laughter tinged with a familiar, sharp edge. She gave Kaelas’s arm a playful tug. “ She’ll look perfectly… decent for once. I’m not calling you a hideous beast, El, but a little effort never killed anyone. You could shine if you tried.”

Elowyn, however, was only half-listening to the chatter swirling around her. Her thoughts were a world away, spinning around the central, unsettling question: Why? Why a sudden royal ball that welcomed the lowly? It felt less like generosity and more like a mechanism, a polished gear turning for some unseen purpose. Her nature fought against pessimism, but the oddity of it gnawed at her.

In the trail of her thoughts, she suddenly remembered her errand. “You all go ahead,” she said, gently extracting her arm from Eden’s. “I have to collect the book I reserved from Mr Tillman.”

The statement earned a pronounced, dramatic eye-roll from Doria. “A book? Now? Elowyn, this is our future!”

Kaelas smoothly removed his arm from Doria’s grasp. “I’ll walk with you. I needed to head to the square anyway.”

A flicker of irritation crossed Doria’s face, quickly masked by a toss of her head. “Fine. Abandon the campaign. Don’t blame us if you’re left with the ugly, picked-over gown material,” she called out as she linked arms with Eden and turned to continue their journey. “Come on, Eden. Time to turn on the charm for Aunt Rosalind. Prepare for excessive compliments about her rosewater.”