Today was the day.
A day the ton would remember not for its warmth, but for its grandeur.
A day the ton would likely never forget as the gossip would keep everyone entertained until next season begin.
A day she, would never forget.
Her sister’s wedding.
They were at the Queen’s Palace, a symbol of splendor —a masterpiece of shimmering silks, and gilded accents that caught the light like jewels. Nobles filled the halls, their laughter and chatter mingling with the faint strains of music that floated through the air. Lanterns lined the garden paths, their soft glow promising beauty.
Aurelia moved through the crowd with the grace of someone who had been born to this world of opulence and performance. She had been trained for this after all. Her emerald green gown shimmered faintly with each step, its delicate gold embroidery catching the sunlight streaming through the palace windows. Her hair, pinned with pearls and soft curls framing her face, was a testament to perfection. She looked every inch the dutiful daughter, every smile and curtsy a well-rehearsed dance.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice soft and melodic as she accepted yet another compliment. “Lydia is radiant today, isn’t she? Truly the perfect bride. We couldn’t be prouder.” Her lips curved into a practiced smile, her hands clasped lightly in front of her. She thanked another guest, nodded politely at yet another remark about how lovely the day was, and laughed demurely when a lady commented on how well the Ellis family seemed to handle the pressures of such a grand occasion.
Inside, her stomach churned.
The words tasted bitter on her tongue, every polite response a lie. She was proud, yes—but not of this. Not of the marriage being forced upon her sister. Not of the carefully woven facade their mother had constructed to convince the ton that the Ellis family was the epitome of grace and unity.
Her mother’s voice broke through her thoughts, sharp and commanding. “Aurelia,” Roselyn said, her tone carrying the weight of expectation. “Have you checked on Lydia? Ensure she is ready. It would not do for her to delay the ceremony.”
Aurelia turned to her mother, her expression serene, her voice measured. “Of course, Mother,” she replied, dipping her head slightly in deference. She lingered just long enough for propriety’s sake before gliding away.
The bridal suite was quiet when Aurelia arrived, save for the faint rustling of fabric as maids fussed over Lydia’s dress. The room was bathed in the soft glow of morning light spilling through the tall windows, the bright hues casting an almost ethereal glow. Lydia stood at the center, her gown a masterpiece of ivory lace and delicate embroidery, the train spilling behind her like a river of silk. She looked beautiful.
She looked broken.
Aurelia’s heart clenched, but she forced herself to smile as she stepped inside. “Would you give us a moment?” she said softly to the maids, her tone polite but firm. They exchanged glances before nodding and retreating from the room, leaving the sisters alone.
She moved toward Lydia, her footsteps silent on the plush carpet. “Let me help you,” she said quietly, stepping behind her to adjust the back of her dress. Her fingers worked deftly at the delicate clasps, but her mind raced with thoughts.
For a moment, the silence hung heavy between them. Then Aurelia’s voice broke it, soft but tinged with a sadness she could no longer suppress. “You know, when we were younger, I imagined this day,” she began, her hands pausing briefly before resuming their task. “Seeing you… happy.” She swallowed hard, her voice faltering for a moment. “Suffice to say, this isn’t how I imagined it, Lydia, but you do look beautiful.”
She stepped back, her gaze meeting her sister’s in the mirror. The weight of everything unsaid hung between them, but she pressed on. “I’m proud of you, Lydia. I’m sorry I never told you before.”
Her hands dropped to her sides, her fists clenching slightly to keep her emotions in check. This wasn’t the time to crumble—not yet. The resolve in her eyes, hidden behind the mask of sisterly affection, was unyielding. She had failed Lydia once before. She would not fail her again.
“Are you sure about today?”