Misguided Wolves

38. Threads of Hope

The day of the dress fittings arrived, and the harem girls brimmed with excitement. Even Ionia, usually guarded, couldn’t hide her enthusiasm. Free from their daily uniforms, they could design dresses in any color or style for Castiel’s welcoming party. The girls hurried to a sitting room where teams of designers awaited, their chatter filling the air.

Mannequins lined the walls, draped in vibrant silks and velvets, while tables overflowed with luxurious fabric samples—shimmering satins, delicate laces, and embroidered brocades. The designers greeted them warmly. “Welcome! Take a seat anywhere!”

Isabeth clutched Kate’s arm, dragging her to an empty couch, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. Once seated, the lead designer stepped forward, her elegant black dress adorned with a white lace overcoat, its pleated tail flaring over padded hips. Her red hair, pinned under a wide-brimmed hat, bobbed with a large feather at every move.

“Ladies!” she announced, arms wide. “I’ve heard of your grand event and have all hands on deck to ensure you shine! Each of you gets a personal team to craft your perfect look. Explore our latest designs and fabric samples—go wild!”

The room buzzed as girls shared their visions, voices overlapping in excitement. Isabeth rattled off ideas, each quickly replaced by a grander one. Designers spread out, approaching their chosen girls. The lead designer, trailed by a young woman, approached Kate and Isabeth.

“You’re our guest of honor, yes?” the designer asked, beaming.

Kate nodded, smiling. The designer stepped aside, presenting her daughter, whose red hair cascaded over her shoulders. “This is my talented daughter, perfect for your project!”

The girl smiled shyly, fiddling with her hair. “H-hello, it’s a pleasure. I’ll do my best.”

“I’m confident you will,” Kate said warmly.

Isabeth leaned in, seizing attention. “We expect your best! This is Kate’s debut and our new king’s! It must be perfect!”

The girl’s eyes widened, lips trembling. Isabeth barreled on. “Kate needs the biggest dress! A tight corset to cinch her waist and flaunt her chest!”

The girl glanced at Kate, scribbling notes, then seized a pause. “W-what color? Beading or embroidery?”

“White!” Isabeth declared. “It must sparkle!”

The girl sketched, suggesting fabrics with a shimmering finish. Her eyes lit up. “We have silks that shine, and I can charm the dress for a special glow!”

Isabeth squealed, “Perfect!”

Kate squeezed the girl’s hand, smiling. “I trust you’ll make it stunning.”

Isabeth bombarded her own designer with ideas, barely letting them keep up. Even at lunch, with the mandatory spiked tea, the girls’ excitement persisted, their rivalries forgotten. Kate saw hope—common ground could unite them, not divide. If she nurtured this, they might resist Castiel together.

****

That night, as the girls settled in their rooms, Kate’s door creaked open. Isabeth peeked in, voice low. “Kate? You awake?”

“Isabeth? What’s wrong?” Kate asked, concern rising.

Isabeth slipped inside, eyes red and swollen from crying. “Can I sleep here? I don’t want to be alone.”

Kate nodded, lifting the blankets. Isabeth flashed a grateful smile and slid into bed, wrapping her arms around Kate, seeking comfort. Tears welled as she spoke, voice trembling. “Sometimes I feel I’m meant for more—a mate I don’t share, a life without drama or fear. After his cruelty, I dream of escape, but then he apologizes, acts like he loves me. I know it’s a lie, but I cling to those crumbs…”

She sobbed, clinging tighter, until sleep claimed her. Kate’s heart clenched, marveling at Isabeth’s strength—enduring Castiel’s abuse yet wearing a bright facade.