DALA
I did not see myself in a high-end boutique with Lady Arya, flipping through racks of dresses that probably cost more than my entire life savings. Yet here we were.
The smell of expensive perfume clung so tightly that I choked. My mind reeled whenever I saw a price tag, but Lady Arya reacted utterly differently.
She was in her element, floating between sections, plucking designer gowns from hangers and draping them over her arm like they weighed nothing.
The store attendants practically tripped over themselves, trying to please her. I, on the other hand, felt like a fish out of water. How could I even pick a thing here?
“This one,” Lady Arya declared, grinning as she held up a floor-length emerald gown against me. “Or…no, maybe this one! Do you like it?” She swapped it out for
