3: The Royal Ball

                                    

                                          
Maren's breath hitched as Penelope lifted something over her head. It had to be a thin string of diamonds, their authenticity confirmed by the lightness and cold touch. A circlet of ice that sat above her collarbone. When Penelope finished the clasp, her hands ran down the side of Maren's arms. Her mistress brought her lips to Maren's ear. "Open your eyes," she whispered.
                          
The maid obeyed. Standing in the mirror's reflection was a young woman of angles and lines. Her high cheekbones set a frame for her full lips, wide brown eyes as deep as darkwood. Her dark hair had been swept from her face, falling down her back, and as Maren twisted sideways, she understood why. She resembled a waterfall of night sky, tulle of the deepest blue flowing from her hips, the diamonds submerged in her gown sparkling like raindrops in the light of the fireplace. If ribbons of indigo and stars could topple over a cliff and pool at her feet, it would be this gown. There were no sleeves and only a sweetheart curve above her breasts, and though she'd never shown this much skin, she felt like she'd been free all her life.
                          
This was what it was like to wear something expensive.
                          
Penelope's mischievous doe eyes were dull in comparison as she smirked. "Marvelous. Don't you think Juniper?" The noble woman glanced over her shoulder at the head maid that positioned herself in a corner to await further instructions. Maren clenched her jaw at the sound of her name, stared down her reflection in the mirror as she and the other maid met eyes. 
                          
"You did a wonderful job, milady," Juniper replied, voice maternal and obedient. She grinned for show, the gesture complimentary to Penelope but all-knowing for Maren. A silent laugh if Maren had ever heard one. Penelope sighed dreamily.
                          
"Do you know my favorite part, Mare?"
                          
Maren's mouth was still dry from the way Juniper wouldn't stop staring into her soul. In a low voice, she managed her response. "What?" 
                          
"You are going to greet the King of Fire in the colors of the sea." Penelope tugged at the fabric of Maren's skirt, the tulle flaring to life. "A personal touch from me to him since I'll have to skip on his festivities."
                          
She wanted to ask why Penelope was so angry with him. What could he have done for her to be so cross when he lives on the other side of the tree-line? But she held her tongue, becoming aware of how she ought to adopt the same mindset if she wanted to get this done. If she wanted to return. It was much easier to abandon a place you despised rather than one you loved.
                          
"Alright," Penelope glanced over her shoulder again, "Juniper, get her to the back exit and around the house. I'll bid farewell to my parents in the foyer." 
                          
"Yes, milady." Juniper moved from her station and stood next to the floor length mirror, extending a hand. Maren looked at it, grabbed her own skirt, and walked around her. All three of the women left the room, but two of them went the opposite way. As soon as Penelope began descending the front steps, Juniper sidled next to a swiftly moving Maren. "I hope you've decided a strategy on how to woo His Highness?"
                          
"Stop talking to me," Maren mumbled, cutting her off as they made it to the back side of the kitchen. 
                          
Juniper clicked her tongue. "You have the audacity to wear that ring? You're failing before you've even begun."
                          
Maren stopped walking as she reached the door. All the years, all the hidden moments of cowering in obedience to a witch like this. Not being able to eat meals until she offered supper, not being able to relieve herself unless she had permission. Balling her fists, she turned on her heel and let the rage of her time here unravel. 
                          
"I wouldn't say I failed. I consider this ring a trophy that you'll never have, and do you know why? Because even though I had to push myself down and mind my presence, mind my own life, I found something of value in this household and I took it. It was mine. It is still mine. You will never have anything. And that is why I'm wearing more than what it costs to purchase you and I'm walking away." Maren opened the door and sauntered down the steps into the backyard. Let her be a whore if it meant tasting what it was to be a masterless young woman. Her heart beat through her ears, her hands shaking from the anger she never released. But damnit, it felt so good.