They were blood cousins for goodness sake! How could he even think such a thing.

Was it really true what Yeren had said - that the Straught family had history for doing such despicable things?

"Over my dead body." She told him through gritted teeth.

She saw the ghost of a smirk tip the corners of his lips upwards, but it vanished so quickly that she thought she had imagined it.

He was just twelve. By the time he grew up, his fantasies about Aurora would fade into nothing.

Her arms around Aurora tightened and she pressed a kiss to her sister’s head.

No stupid boy would touch her sister under her watch. She had failed her once - and the consequence was ugly enough to leave lifelong scars - she wouldn’t do it again.

A knock on the carriage wall from her was all it took to get the carriage moving again.

Every once in the while, the carriage would bump terrible as it rolled through the faulty road.

Arlan stared out the window the whole time, clenching and unclenching his fingers.

No one uttered a word until the carriage came to a stop outside the shop of the most renowned dressmaker in that part of town.

All she could do was hope and pray that the coin she packed would be enough to pay for everything she planned to buy - she had never paid for a dress in her lifetime and hardly knew what to expect of the prices.

It was a fashionable two-storey building made of red bricks.

The top floor had windows with floral-patterned curtains dancing in the wind while the down looked like the main shop.

The upper section must be a residence, she concluded.

"Wait inside here for us."

She held out her hand and Aurora took it. Together, they came down from the carriage and went through the open door of the building with their guards behind them.

A bubbly woman with light brown hair, heavy freckles and spectacles come out from behind a table where straps of cut fabric laid.

"Welcome, welcome. Such beauties!" She clapped her hands together and leaned her cheek against them.

"I know just the colour for you. Look at those eyes. A ball? A funeral? A picnic? Travel? What do you need the dress for?"

Claire was stunned at how direct the woman was.

She and Rory exchanged glances.

The woman clapped and her attendants rushed into the room.

"Get me the green silk dress with the black lace." With a clap of her hand, the attendants hurried away.

There were four of them by Claire’s count. And all of them were young women.

"I need it for a ball."

The woman’s eyes widened and she beamed as if Claire just handed her an invitation.

"The King’s ball? Oh, I’ve heard about it."

With a snap of her fingers, two cushioned stools were brought.

"Well sit down girls, you have come to the right place."

They sank into the cushions and waited for the woman to dazzle them.

More dresses were brought out. Most of them were green, but there were darker colours.

"This would look magnificent on you!" The woman held up a black lace dress.

Claire’s jaw dropped.

"You have to take it, Claire."

But it looked very expensive.

"I can’t wear black to a ball."

"Well," The woman looked at her over the rim of her spectacles. "Someone dies everyday and as a woman, you have to be prepared for it."

Her hands twitched. All she needed was a ball gown. Claire was itching to ask for the price... but she was afraid it would make her sound destitute.

"Alright. I will take it. Now can you get me dresses for the ball."

Rory tugged on her arm. She looked away from the woman who was ordering her attendants around like a Queen Bee.

"Would I also attend the ball as well?"

Her smile faded slowly. "No, Rory. A ball is no place for a child."

But even the thought of leaving her sister alone in that house with only the company of her guard and the servants nagged at her.

"But I’ll soon be eleven, Claire."

Claire patted her shoulder. "I started attending balls when I was sixteen, Aurora. And even then, father still complained that it was too early. You still have a long way to go."

Aurora folded her arms across her chest and pouted.

"You look cute when you do that." She teased.

Colour crept up Rory’s cheeks at the compliment but otherwise, she remained unmoved.

It reminded her that her sister’s birthday was in the coming month. She had to plan a befitting celebration since they now had the means to be extravagant.

"Here are your picks." The woman said in a melodious, sing-song voice.

The green and black she had shown them earlier was one of the dresses.

"Take out the silver one." Claire said without sparing it a second glance.

The woman snatched it from her attendant and held it up for her to see the potential of the dress. "Silver will accentuate the colour of your eyes, lovely."

It was indeed a beautiful dress, but she wanted nothing to do with it.

"I’ll take the green... and," she glanced at the other options. "the red."

The woman smiled. "Plus the black, you must not forget." Then she clapped her hands and her attendants rushed forward.

"Have them packaged for our pretty customer." Then she turned to Aurora. "Anything for the little girl? I believe I have a few dresses that can fit her. Do you want to see?"

Claire nodded.

The woman beamed. "Sarah!"

One of the girls rushed to her side. She whispered something to the girl and she hurried away to attend to the task.

"I never got your name, my Lady." The woman inched closer. "I like to know all my clients, you see."

Claire sat up straighter. "I’m Lady Stenly... but you might not have heard of me."

The woman waved a hand in the air to dismiss her words.

"Oh, nonsense. Do not belittle yourself so." Then she cooed. "You are much more beautiful in person. Every modiste in the Kingdom knows about you."

Claire coloured at the admission.

Why would they know about her?

"That is quite odd."

The woman reached for a fan and fluttered it over her sweat-drenched face.

"Call it whatever you want. The King met personally with one of my modiste friends in the Capital to have dresses made for you. He chose the fabrics himself and described your slim figure to the letter. I couldn’t help but be envious that I didn’t set up my shop in the Capital."

More colour flooded her cheeks.

He went himself? Did he have such time to be frolicking in dressmakers shops?

"I imagined he must be quite fond of you. Is there a wedding banquet on the way?" Before Claire could answer, she added, "It would be such an honour if I were to design the future queen’s garments."

Such dreams.

"What did he say about my figure?"

All the dresses he gave her always fitted like a glove and she had never thought much about the specifics until currently.

"Oh, yes yes." The woman pulled a stool down to where Claire sat.

"I was there during one of his first visits, you see. His instructions were to keep the bodice modest and show little cleavage, no boning - because he said you already had a very small waist and he liked to pick out green fabrics."

It was very unlike him.

"Did he tell her who the dresses were for or she just found out?"

The woman averted her gaze.

"She heard from a friend that you were the one wearing one of her signature dresses."

Oh.

Why did hearing such things make her question her own sanity?