Chapter 3: Threads of Burgundy

Halea's POV

Morning crept into my chamber like an unwelcome visitor, dragging the remnants of my restless thoughts into the daylight. I groaned softly, pulling the blanket tighter around me as though it might shield me from the second day of this bizarre noble existence.

“Lady Halea?” The soft knock at my door was followed by an equally timid voice. “Mistress Fuvy and Lady Juvianna are preparing to leave for the boutique. You’ll need to get ready, my lady. We are to select dresses for the Majesty’s birthday celebration at the Sylvaris Palace.”

Of course. A morning of judgmental stares and forced civility with my mother and sister. What could be better?

“Come in,” I muttered reluctantly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

The maid entered cautiously, her arms steadying a tray of tea and fruit with practiced precision. Her quiet demeanor caught my attention—delicate, almost fragile. Yet as she placed the tray on the bedside table, my curiosity won over.

“Wait,” I said, narrowing my gaze. “What’s your name?”

Her cheeks flushed as she glanced up at me. “M-my name, my lady?”

“Yes, your name,” I repeated. “Unless you prefer I keep calling you ‘maid.’ Frankly, that feels like a disservice to us both.”

“It’s Viary, my lady,” she whispered, barely audible.

“Viary,” I repeated, savoring the sound. “A fitting name for someone so… careful. I’ll try not to forget it this time. No guarantees, though.”

Her lips twitched into a small smile. “Thank you, my lady.”

“Good,” I said, gesturing toward the bath. “Now, shall we begin the morning’s grand production?”

Viary prepared the bath with precision—warm water, fragrant oils, the works. I slipped into the water, letting the heat soothe my thoughts even as the absurdity of this elaborate process gnawed at me.

“Viary,” I said, watching her adjust a towel nearby. “Is all of this truly necessary? I mean, surely I’m capable of washing myself.”

She froze mid-motion, her cheeks pink. “M-my lady… it’s tradition for nobles to be cared for. You are important, and it’s an honor to serve you.”

“Important, am I?” I mused. “Well, let’s pretend I believe that. Though honestly, all of this feels a bit excessive. Do nobles here ever do anything for themselves?”

“It… wouldn’t be proper,” she said softly.

“Tradition and propriety,” I muttered. “Ever the twin rulers of this world. Very well, carry on, Viary. You’re doing marvelously.”

After the bath, Viary helped dress me in layers of heavy fabric—an ordeal that could rival any battle. The final blow came with the corset.

“Viary!” I exclaimed as the laces tightened uncomfortably. “Are you trying to fold me in half?”

She froze instantly, her hands trembling. “F-forgive me, my lady! I didn’t mean to—”

“—compress me into oblivion?” I interrupted.

Her face turned an alarming shade of pink. “I-I’ll fix it immediately.”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Snug is fine, Viary. Let’s avoid suffocation, shall we?”

“Yes, my lady,” she whispered, loosening the laces with care.

The boutique was everything I’d expected—overwhelming and underwhelming in equal measure. Dresses lined the walls, each one louder and gaudier than the last. I felt my patience dissolve as Juvianna chattered beside me, my mother’s sharp gaze lingering wherever I turned.

Ignoring them both, I approached the counter. “Do you have fabric?”

The shopkeeper nodded and began pulling out an array of rolls—each one more offensive than the last. Patterns so busy they hurt my eyes, colors clashing in ways that felt almost aggressive. I resisted the urge to grimace outright.

Then, amidst the chaos, something caught my eye. A deep burgundy fabric, silky and soft. It wasn’t perfect—it had patterns, but they were understated, simple. Compared to the monstrosities surrounding it, the burgundy fabric felt like a treasure.

“This one,” I said firmly, reaching for the roll.

The shopkeeper blinked at me in surprise, glancing from the burgundy fabric to the garish ones still piled on the counter. My mother and sister, of course, wasted no time expressing their confusion.

“Halea,” Mother said sharply, her tone laced with disapproval. “You’ve never shown interest in sewing before. Why fabric?”

I glanced at her over my shoulder, a cryptic smile tugging at my lips. “People change, Mother. Perhaps I have, too.”

As I paid for the fabric, a faint sense of satisfaction settled in my chest. Finally, something that was mine—a choice I had made entirely for myself.

Just as I turned to leave, the boutique door opened, and a chill ran down my spine. A man entered, tall and shrouded in an air of mystery that made the room feel suddenly smaller. His piercing eyes scanned the shop, lingering briefly on me.

“Lady Halea Dayrith,” he said smoothly, his voice carrying a weight that made the air thrum with tension. “I believe this is not the first time our paths have crossed.”

I blinked, caught off guard. The words felt familiar, yet foreign—like the echo of a memory I couldn’t place. Before I could respond, he gave a slight bow and walked past me, disappearing among the rows of fabric.

“Who was that?” Juvianna whispered, her voice tinged with curiosity and something close to fear.

I didn’t answer. My mind was already racing, questions swirling like a storm. *Not the first time? What did he mean?*

Clutching the burgundy fabric tightly, I followed Mother and Juvianna out of the shop, but my thoughts lingered on the man’s enigmatic words. Whatever had just happened, I had the distinct feeling that this was only the beginning.

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