Six Weeks Ago
Faye
My slippers pad across the pale marble tiles. I hike up my dress–pink, just like the slippers I spent hours upon hours embroidering with little stars and white flowers. My hair fans out around my shoulders and down my back in my haste to reach my father’s office. Cara, my lady’s maid, scurries behind me, puffing her breath as she tries to keep up with my rapid footsteps.
I come to a stop, swipe the wrinkles from my dress, and gently knock on his office door.
Several seconds pass before my father’s voice echoes toward me, saying, “Come in.”
Father rises from behind his desk as I enter, leaving Cara in the hallway.
“You wanted to see me?” I ask, edging toward his desk.
Father’s gaze sweeps over me from head to toe before he says, “The time has come that you marry
