[Carnelia]
I am up to my waist in layers of silk and taffeta, exhausted, hungry, and heartsick.
“Can you remind me why we need to endure this?” I ask Ona as a maid tears through my curls. Wincing, I try not to flinch as she abuses my scalp. I have never liked being forced into the courtly ideas of royal beauty, and yet here I am being trussed up to be presented at a ball I do not even want to attend.
Except, maybe to see him.
“Because we must follow her rules of propriety,” Ona grimaces as her corset is laced. Just as the maid is about to cinch it tighter, Ona stops her with an upraised hand.
"But Mi’lady, you are expected to have a fashionably tight waist. The dress that the Queen sent over needs you to…”
The scalding look Ona gives Eleanora’s human pet pins the poor girl in he
