Getting ready for a fancy dinner
1624 Words
*Lydia*
"Why don't you join us for dinner, Lyd?" Zara's voice carried a notable tone of disappointment.
Without diverting her gaze from the array of books and papers scattered across the bed, I reply, "Because I have grown, Zara. I have been invited to dine with the Alpha. And while we are here, please avoid using 'Lyd'. It makes me feel like I'm meant to be in the kitchen, not the dining hall."
"But 'Lyd' has always been your name to me." She says.
Zara's slight sadness pulls my attention towards her. There she sits on the floor, sketch pad in hand. Her love for drawing has always been a source of joy, something I have always encouraged.
"I know that," I reassure her, "but we are currently in an enchanted realm. 'Luna Lydia' has a more fitting ring to it than 'Luna Lyd', wouldn't you agree?"
Zara scrunches her petite, pixie-like face. "But you are not Luna Lydia."
"Not yet. But if I can navigate these books, I might be. Dining with the Alpha is my first test." I say.
I don't want to dwell on the awkwardness of our first meeting, when addressing the Alpha incorrectly and offering my hand when a simple bow would have sufficed. I had somehow been bewitched by his stormy hazel eyes. During dinner, I will focus on his nose. Despite its handsome shape, it shouldn't be as distracting as his eyes.
I contemplate focusing on his mouth instead, but the thought of how close it was to kissing my hand sets my cheeks ablaze. His nose had exhaled a warm breath that brushed my wrist, reminiscent of a summer breeze. Perhaps I should look at his ears when we interact. They haven't caused my knees to buckle… yet.
"A test? Are we enrolling in a school here?" Zara's question snaps me back to reality, completely missing the point of my earlier statement.
"No, darling." I gesture towards her sketch. Time is slipping away, and I still have a lot to review before dinner, not only for my sake but also for my stepfather's. If our welcome had been warmer, I might not feel this urge to validate my worth. I don't want to embarrass him. "Get back to your drawing."
As Zara dives back into her sketching, I return to my studies, scouring through my trunk to retrieve the books I had packed. From Hints on Etiquette and Their Importance to Pack Society, The Laws of Wolf Etiquette, to The Young She-Wolf's Friend, I have brought numerous issues of Luna Godey's and werewolf Bazar. If they don't provide the necessary information, I'm confident I will find it in my trusted ‘correct behavior of a She-wolf’.
The last book isn't published, but it holds more value to me than the rest. It's a compilation of the rules my cousin Lauren has shared in her letters over the years. The book's title is my own creation, inspired by Lauren's numerous blunders after first arriving in England. I have no intention of following in her footsteps.
Lauren had been incredibly open and candid in her letters, some of which bore the faded marks of what I was certain were her tears. I meticulously compiled all the essential observations from each letter, learning from Lauren's errors, creating my own etiquette guide that I planned to share with her when we reunited.
I am certain we will meet again. There was no way my mother would leave England without visiting her sister in London at least once. I intended to be fully prepared to make the most of my time there, and that preparation hinged on practicing here at the castle.
I have never had a gentleman in my front parlor, joined me for tea, or accompanied me on a stroll. Sure, I havs walked with a guy or two, but "Hey, Lydia, fancy a walk?" didn't carry the same romantic resonance as "Miss Moonshadow, would you bestow me the honor of strolling around the garden with you?"
The fact that the Alpha of Black Forest had addressed me as Miss Moonshadow had set my heart aflutter. The formality was set to continue into the evening, and I am bursting with anticipation.
"Why didn't Papa know his brother's name?" Zara queried.
I glanced at Zara, her innocent face almost too earnest. "He did know his name. But in recent months, Papa's brother has become the Alpha of Black Forest. Titles outweigh names in importance here, so people address him as Black Forest."
"Uncle Black Forest? That sounds odd." She mumbles.
I let out a sigh. "Not uncle. Just Black Forest or Alpha Black forest."
"But we call Mama's brother Uncle James." She points out.
I sigh. "Yes, I know, but things work differently here."
"What's a bastard?" She asks.
My eyes clamped shut as I rubbed my temples. I had wondered when Zara would broach that subject. Opening my eyes, I shoved my study materials towards the foot of the bed and patted the space next to me. "Come here."
Zara climbed onto the bed, curling up against my side. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close.
"Many years ago," I begin softly, "the Lycan Prince fell in love with an actress. His family, however, wanted him to marry someone else, and he did. Despite this, the actress gave him a son, our father. Pack society tends to frown upon women having children out of the mate bond."
In my younger years, I had seen the pain caused by improper behavior. Perhaps that is why proper conduct means so much to me. I never wish to endure the humiliation of a scandal.
"That woman in the hall made it sound like being a bastard is terrible," Zara remarks.
With a soft smile, I shake my head. "'Bastard' isn't a pleasant term, but Papa is a wonderful man. It wasn't his fault that his parents didn't marry. The princess isn't Papa's mother, so I suspect she's just envious."
"Is Black Forest her son?" She asks.
I nod. "Yes."
"I thought she was mean to him, too." Zara says.
"Yes, she was." I admit.
She scrunches up her nose. "I felt sorry for him."
"He is an Alpha. He holds a lot of power and influence. When his father dies he will be a prince." I tell her.
"But who loves him, Lyd?" She says, sadness in her voice.
Who indeed? I place my hand over Zara's chest, where her heart resides. "I believe his mother does, deep down in here."
A knock at the door startles us both.
"What if it's the witch?" Zara questions.
I chuckle lightly. "I don't think she would knock. She would probably huff and puff and break the door down." I tickle Zara until she is in fits of laughter and then called out, "Come in."
Mary, the young servant who had been sent to summon the Alpha earlier, enters, holding a light blue gown. I had ordered the gown for a special celebration my parents had hosted for my eighteenth birthday.
Although the gown is no longer in vogue, the hurried preparations for our journey hadn't allowed time for new dresses. I had barely managed to get a new everyday dress purchased. Fortune, the city we live in, is so unsophisticated that there is seldom an occasion to wear a proper evening gown.
I give Zara a gentle squeeze. "Finish your drawing now."
Zara scrambles back to the floor and resumes her position on her stomach. I shift my focus to the maid.
Mary had assisted me in unpacking our trunks earlier and settling in. Back home, I had been the one to pack my trunk. It felt awkward standing idly by while Mary unpacked, but when I offered to help, she insisted on handling it. I didn’t want her to feel that I doubted her capabilities, so I let her manage everything.
I feel caught between two worlds… the one I am familiar with and the one I aspire to be part of.
"I have pressed your gown, miss," Mary says, carrying it to the armoire. "Would you like a bath before dinner?"
"Yes, please," I reply.
The idea of dressing up for dinner still feels surreal. Back home, I simply wash my hands after a long day of chores. While my parents could afford servants, they never bothered with them. After spending the afternoon with Mary attending to my needs, I realize I could get used to such pampering.
"And would you like me to help with your hair, miss?" Mary asks.
I smile at her. "Yes, please."
"Lyd, you know how to fix your hair!" Zara interjects.
I let out a groan, striving to keep my annoyance in check. Zara is too young to fully grasp the nuances of our new life. After sending Mary away, I wait for her to close the door before addressing Zara's remark. "Tonight is a special occasion, Zara."
"Is fixing your hair part of the test?" Zara asks.
"Yes, in a way, it is." I say.
"The teacher made Andy Warren stand in the corner with a dunce cap because he cheated on his spelling test. If you get someone else to do your hair, aren't you cheating on the test? If you get caught, I can't imagine what that old witch will do to you."
I would have laughed if Zara's expression wasn't so serious. "This test is about understanding one's place in society. It's impossible to cheat."
"I don't want to take a test," Zara grumbles.
"You won't have to, at least not for a while." But since I can’t say the same for myself, I return my attention to my books.
- Writer
