"So, you're a writer, the reclusive heiress turned writer?" Ava asked, her tone light, playful even, as she crossed her arms and gave me a knowing look.
I froze for a moment, unsure whether to laugh, deny it, or change the topic entirely. The word "heiress" always made me feel like I was wearing a borrowed crown, heavy, unwanted, and too visible.
"I guess I'm quite the rebellion," I replied, trying to laugh it off, though it came out shaky.
"Me too," she said with a grin. "Let me introduce myself properly. I'm Princess Ava of Windmere."
I blinked. "You're… a princess?"
"Unfortunately, yes. I come from a long line of royals. According to my father, I should be wearing ball gowns, brushing my hair 500 times a day, and starving myself so I can be... uhmm....what's that word…?"
"Marketable?"
"Exactly!" she said, and we both burst into giggles.
"I mean, I'm not royalty, but that word lives rent-free in my head too," I said, just as the door opened again.
Two other girls stepped into the room. One had radiant ginger hair and a dusting of freckles across her nose that gave her a soft, youthful charm. The second had hair so long and sleek it looked like silk, and her porcelain skin almost shimmered under the room's light. They both carried the effortless poise of people used to being looked at.
"Oh hi," the ginger-haired one said with a friendly smile. "You must be Melody. I'm Cassie, and this is Nala."
"Hey," Nala added. Her voice was calm but confident. "Have you been to anything like this before?"
"Uhm, no. Honestly, I wouldn't even be here if Grace hadn't insisted. What about you?"
Cassie shrugged. "We come with her now and then. Not all the time, just when there's a chance of bumping into fine, young noblemen."
I blinked. "What?!"
"Finally, some real girl talk," I said, tossing my things aside and settling in as Nala launched into a passionate monologue about the noblemen of Maistown, their scandals, romances, and hidden flaws.
We sat together like old friends, the air thick with stories and laughter. I remembered how I used to sit with Nanny Chopper and the other estate staff, trading tales about visitors and neighbors. But this? This felt new. This felt right. Being with girls my own age, sharing secrets and stories, it was something I never realized I'd missed so much.
Just as I was getting lost in our banter, Nala stood and clapped her hands. "Time to get ready for dinner, ladies!"
"How do you even know that?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
She smirked. "cause i know it all"
We got dressed quickly. Everyone had their own style, Ava in something sleek and classic, Nala in a bold, colorful ensemble, and Cassie with lace and layers. I opted for something simple: a navy blue dress with clean lines and soft sleeves.
As we headed down, the hall buzzed with energy. Girls clustered in groups, chatting, laughing, taking selfies. It felt like walking into a scene from a high school movie one of those iconic shots where the new girl walks into the cafeteria and everyone turns to look.
"All we're missing is a bully to stir things up," I mumbled to myself with a chuckle.
Like a perfectly timed scene, a group of four girls strutted past us, their hair flicking in coordinated waves as if they'd rehearsed it. One of them glanced at us with a smirk so sharp it could slice through glass.
Nala leaned into me. "Now you see those girls? They're the reason noblemen never notice anyone else. They hog the spotlight like it's a sport."
I nodded slowly, watching them disappear around the corner. "She's… really pretty," I said, genuinely impressed.
"Yes," Cassie agreed. "But very cunning. She moves her waist like a snake and wears the most revealing outfits."
"Have you ever tried something revealing?" I asked.
Nala laughed. "Not yet, but I'd love to. We'd have to be total rebels though."
"Then count me in," I grinned, and we both burst into laughter. There was something freeing about knowing none of us fit the mold we were raised in.
Suddenly, a microphone screeched to life.
"Attention! Attention!"
We turned toward the stage where Aunt Grace stood, regal and composed in a tailored suit that could've been from her own collection.
"Welcome, ladies, to this year's Gracey's Fashion Show," she began. "It's such a delight to have you all here. I trust you've settled into your spaces comfortably."
The crowd hushed, every pair of eyes on her.
"I want to remind you all why we're here, not just to display beauty, but to embrace power. This event isn't only about fashion. It's an empowerment scheme. A platform. A chance to show the people of Maistown what we, as women, are capable of."
She paced slowly across the stage.
"You'll find guides in your rooms detailing the workshops and mentoring sessions. Please read them carefully. This is more than a show. This is transformation. And yes, there will be a winner. Go out there and make me proud!"
The applause was thunderous. I clapped too, though my heart thudded with nerves.
As the crowd began to disperse, I slipped away, my mind already buzzing with ideas. So many thoughts, I needed to write.
On my way back to the room, something caught my eye. A door stood slightly ajar, the golden handle glinting under a chandelier. I paused, curious. Taking a step back, I read the nameplate: The Study.
I pushed the door open gently.
The room was stunning. Everything was drenched in dark tones, black marble, mahogany shelves, a velvet couch near the corner. The whole place breathed mystery. I ran my fingers over the smooth desk, imagining it filled with my notebooks and drafts. The chair was deep, soft, and welcoming. I sank into it, letting myself imagine a world where this was mine.
Suddenly, I heard footsteps approaching.
Panicked, I slid under the desk just as the door creaked open. I held my breath.
Aunt Grace walked in. Her heels clicked against the marble.
She was alone.
"I'm telling you, things are going exactly as we planned, Sinclair," she whispered. "You just need to come do your part before it's too late. She's my niece, and I love her, but she needs to know."
There was silence. A faint sound, maybe a nod or a sigh, and then the soft click of the door closing behind her.
I didn't move for several minutes. My heart thudded so loud I feared someone would hear it echo through the halls.
Aunt Grace. The only person I trusted.
But what did she mean?
What did I need to know?
And why… did she sound like she was keeping something from me?