Estrella
"Thank you," I murmur as one of the Dun's Crossing seamstresses pins another fold of my skirt in place.
After a few days of what Tess deemed arguing, though I would more rightly call it standing my ground, the flock of women assigned to make my wedding dress have finally understood that I will not be-at least exclusively-wearing the dull neutrals so common in this kingdom. The head seamstress, ironically named Bright, in particular tried to put her foot down on a traditional charcoal-colored wedding gown. She now stands in the corner of the room with her arms crossed, eying the one pinning the swath of charcoal-shot purple and blue fabric of my skirt like a traitor.
"You look stunning." Tess clasps her hands beneath her chin, and her eyes sparkle as she looks up at me. Predictably, she has been delighted since Anwen and I announced our betrothal. To her, love has won, and no explanation about the plan underpinning our vows can sway her opinion.
In truth, when I look at myself in the three-paned mirror the seamstresses always bring to my bedroom, the plan does fade from my mind. I look like a bride, like the paintings I've seen of Mother on her wedding day, with a few twists toward Dun's Crossing traditions. Instead of a crown and a long, draping cape, Bright unwillingly produced a gauzy veil in all the colors of my gown. Instead of the scrolling colos I would usually paint on my hands with my nearest and dearest the day before the wedding, the seamstresses are embroidering them into the fabric of the gown itself. More of the folds are pinned and sewn in place rather than just cleverly wrapped. I look like someone who could be Luna Queen of both lands, or at least, of a Sundrop Gem which works closely with Dun's Crossing once more. I rub my thumb over the pale white tattoo on my pinkie finger. My wedding is fast approaching, and only when I am forced to stand still for these fittings, does that ring true.
Someone knocks on the door. I nod to Tess, and she opens it.
Without hesitation, Nessa sweeps in. She's been lonesome since her father left, but he ought to return soon.
"You're a vision, as always," she declares. "I swear, I need to post eyes outside of Bright's workshop. I can't risk one of these going by without seeing you."
I chuckle. Since my return, Nessa's been merely pleasant. She's barely said a word about the Solbergs.
"Isn't she just?" Tess replies.
Nessa doesn't take her eyes away from me, but before she can answer, another knock sounds.
I glance over my shoulder as Tess goes to open the door again. This time, King Kieran offered us different rooms. He assigned me-and Tess-quarters on the same hall as his younger sisters, Princesses Candace and Ingrid. Mother is but a turn away, and Castor a few more, alongside Anwen and Finn. But this closeness to the Solberg family seems to have created an odd coincidence.
"I heard there was some excitement in here." Princess Candace, Anwen's equally white-blonde sister, steps inside and curtsies.
And there it is again. Every time Nessa appears in my chambers, or nearly anywhere else I am in the castle, Princess Candace appears a scant minute later. Unless the walls have ears, I can't imagine how she always knows. She has the same eerily perfect neutral expression as her two older brothers, so I do not yet know her nearly well enough to be certain why she makes her presence such a constant.
"Princess." I curtsy as well as I can with a seamstress at my knees. "Lovely to see you, as always."
"Seconded." Nessa bobs a quick curtsy without truly looking at the princess. "We were just talking about how beautiful Estrella is in this dress."
"It's spectacular." Princess Candace drifts closer, Tess on her heels. "Have you thought about your hair at all?"
"I could do it again," Nessa offers.
I swallow. I've been thinking about my hair extensively, and I can't imagine walking through the temple with anything other than Tess's handiwork on my head. But I haven't found a way to explain that to Nessa yet.
"You're quite talented, but shouldn't she have someone who reflects either of the cultures she's uniting?" Princess Candace asks primly. "Tess, you do hair sometimes, right?"
The air crackles with tension. I have not yet figured out why Princess Candace keeps appearing, but it is obvious that she and Nessa do not get along.
Tess blinks. "Well-"
"I'm sure her lady-in-waiting does a palatable job, but shouldn't a queen have something special for her wedding day?" Nessa replies.
"Tess's work is far more than palatable," I say through gritted teeth. Nessa has been kind, but I will not allow anyone to talk about my best friend like that.
"You see?" Princess Candace waves a hand at me. "Luna Estrella knows what she wants, if you give her a moment to say it."
"She didn't say that was what she wanted," Nessa snaps. "She's just defending her people. I can respect that, but it doesn't mean anything about her hair."
"Or she doesn't know how to tell you it's what she wants." Princess Candace folds her hands in front of her. "You do have a somewhat... brash personality."
Nessa's mouth falls open, and there's a beat of silence. I meet Tess's wide gaze. Both of us have been watching them go back and forth like expert kras players, and my neck is beginning to hurt.
"Apologies," Princess Candace says. "I haven't been sleeping very well, and my tongue got away from me. Spirited-the word I meant was spirited."
"Spirited," Nessa repeats disbelievingly. "Horses are spirited."
"And very distinctive women." Princess Candace smiles softly. "My mother was called that, in her younger years."
Nessa leans back as if Princess Candace just hit her. My mind whirls, trying to keep up. Anwen mentioned their mother is imprisoned in the dungeons I still haven't seen, and I can certainly understand why one would have a complicated relationship with such a woman, but it is impossible to deny that Queen Rowena held her own next to King Gavin, which is a feat in itself. A comparison to her, at least in this matter, seems far from the most scathing thing Princess Candace could've said.
Yet, Nessa turns to me and curtsies. "Sorry, I've just remembered I have somewhere else to be. Father is supposed to return in a few hours, and I have to get dressed for that."
Without another word, she scurries from the room.
This, too, is another "coincidence" that regularly follows Princess Candace's arrival. I study the pale princess in the mirror. Her cornsilk curls fold neatly into a complex bun that requires close inspection to see the detail, just like the silver embroidery on her gray dress. She always seems to wear that same faint smile, nearly beatific, and Nessa's jabs never perturb her like hers do Nessa. There's certainly something below her surface, and I can't deny a curiosity to discover what it is.
"It'll be interesting to have Floyd in the castle again," she says.
Tess nods, wide-eyed. Last night, she confessed to me that Princess Candace intimidates her a little.
"He is an interesting man," I say carefully. I believe she knows Anwen's suspicions, but with all the seamstresses in the room, we can't speak openly.
"I look forward to hearing fresh news of Snowcrest Canyon." Princess Candace takes a few steps forward and plucks a bolt of fabric from a basket of alternate options the seamstresses brought along. "Stop me if I'm overstepping, but have you considered an overskirt of this?"
Bright makes a small, pained noise in the back of her throat. I study the slightly sheer, fragile-looking, rosy fabric in her hands. With the charcoal, the gown does currently lean darker than is usual for a wedding dress. And the purple in the current dress has red undertones that would match the pink well.
"Oh, that would warm your skin right up." Tess covers her mouth as soon as she realizes she's spoken.
Princess Candace nods thoughtfully. "You're right. I think an overskirt might not be the right place, being so far from your skin." She hefts the heavy bolt easily and drapes it over my arms. "Here. You can do the embroidery in blue, tie the whole piece together, and it'll look like it's right on your arms."
I study myself in the mirror. The pink lightens the whole effect, and with a draping sleeve, it would look so much like the capes of home, I wouldn't even think to miss them.
"Sorry, this is how Ingrid and I work." She pulls the bolt away with a small, self-conscious laugh. "A dress isn't done until the party starts."
"No, I liked it." I catch her pale gaze in the mirror and smile.
She grins back at me, shockingly honest. "Well, good. I'm still getting my practice in at the sister thing. I've kind of always been the oldest."
"What do you mean?" Raven is the oldest daughter, and she has two older brothers.I know the situation with Raven was different with certain members of her family, but did Candace not think of her as a sister either?
"Oh, Mother and Father didn't allow us to treat Raven as a true sibling." Her tone is airy, but I can hear the sting of real hurt underneath. In that way, she's exactly like Anwen. "And the boys and girls got very different training. So Ingrid and I are thick as thieves, but I'm just learning to be Raven's younger sister." She smiles at me again. "And I guess I'll have to figure out a same-age sister as well!"
"I've never had a sister at all, unless you count Tess," I say, "so I suppose we can learn together."
"I'd really like that." Princess Candace sets the bolt beside the seamstress. "Can we stop with all the stuffy titles, then? I just want to be family."
"All right." I smile at her in the mirror. "Candace."
She giggles. "Now, Tess, tell me how you get Estrella's hair to do all these incredible things."
Tess turns ashen. "Well-"
I turn back to the mirror. I'm practicing believing anything the Solbergs tell me, so Tess must fend for herself. But as I watch Candace gesture broadly, sketching out the exact shape of her meaning, I can't help wondering how the same childhood produced both her and Anwen.