Madalina looked over the calendar again. It was the 19th of the month of December, and on the 22nd, she would be at the Winter's Kiss ball, by invitation from Queen Octavia Libella. Three days remained between her and the biggest celebration in Icegrowth, and she was woefully unprepared. She had yet to get in touch with the cooks or the gardeners as well, but she supposed they weren't going to suddenly up and leave the country.
She sighed softly, and looked over her wardrobe. It was all pale colors, mostly white and blue. Nothing had survived the fire save for her inheritance. Her pearls and lace accessories were gone. She needed to buy something special for this ball; It doubled as the Queen's engagement party! She had found a man worthy of her time at long last, it seemed.
Madalina wondered what the Queen's betrothed looked like. Rumor had it that he was a quiet, shy, pious type. A man who held no land or title. A commoner, by all accounts. She wondered if he would be at the ball, or if the Queen would introduce him to the people. She shook her head free from distraction and picked up her purse. Though she had many white dresses in her wardrobe, wearing the color would be an insult to the Queen and she wasn't going to risk it.
Which meant that she had to go shopping. She wondered if Vianola was up yet, but shook her head. They had stayed out late last night, and she was certain that the redhead was sick of her company. She pulled on a hat, put her boots on, and exited swiftly. She stepped onto the curb and hailed a carriage, instructing the driver to take her to the boutique district. The ride was uneventful, but she tipped graciously.
The boutiques were all indoors and were buzzing with activity. Lots of noblewomen and their friends were shopping for dresses, and Madalina never felt lonelier watching the gaggles of women mill around the mall than she did in that moment. She sighed and shook her head; She had no one to blame for her loneliness but herself. She wasn't exactly the most popular woman in Icegrowth, and she had never been one to reach out to others. She would not let this get the better of her, however. As she strode into the first boutique and began to browse the dresses after greeting the cashiers, Madalina glanced up just in time to see a familiar shade of red hair.
Vianola was talking to a pretty woman with short, dark hair. She was curvier than Madalina and the tone they were speaking to each other in was flirtatious. Her pointed ears were short, but that meant nothing – this was clearly a noblewoman and Vianola … it stung her heart to think of her doing anything like this with someone else. But why? It wasn't as though they were together. Vianola hadn't even made a pass at her, to her knowledge. Somehow, that thought was the opposite of comforting.
Madalina swallowed hard and tried to disappear into the dresses, but her gaze was hooked on Vianola and the stranger. It wasn't until the woman turned her head a little that Madalina caught hold of her eye color: Brown with blue rings. She was from the country below Icegrowth, commonly called the Shade for how it lived in Icegrowth's shadow. At least, that's what the locals called it. The elves who called it home had given it the name of 'Elleora.' Madalina bit her lip and felt herself seize up like she was about to cry.
At that precise moment, Vianola looked up and caught sight of her friend.
The two locked eyes, with Madalina turning white as a sheet once she'd been caught. She pushed the dress she was holding back onto the rack and hurried to the door with trembling hands.
Vianola hurried after her, and as she tried to get away, she drew in a sharp breath. Vianola had grabbed her wrist, gently enough for her to pull away.
"Bunny, what's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Don't you –"
"Is this about Marcilla in there?"
"... no." Madalina's shoulders sank as she admitted it out loud. She looked back and up, taking her hand back from Vianola's grasp. Her friend's face was confused. Her brows were raised on her face and she'd tilted her head slightly.
"You're free to do whatever you want with whomever you like," She stated plainly, although her heart was hammering in her throat. "Don't let me stop you on your date."
"Marcilla and I aren't on a … I mean, I didn't think it was a date!" Vianola objected, crossing her arms.
"She was very close to you." Madalina tried to keep calm, "And Marcilla's dress looked very … short."
"But that doesn't mean anything, bunny. She'd just asked me to see if something was her size or not." Vianola shrugged, adjusting the gloves on her wrists like she always did when she was confronted by something or someone.
For some reason, this only made Madalina more upset, even though she knew that Vianola was right! It was not her business who Vianola spent her time with. And yet, she felt betrayed in some way. She turned her head away, shaking a little.
"Right. I'm sorry. You're allowed to have friendships. I need to remind myself that we're not … that we're just friends."
Vianola felt her heart drop to her stomach. The words 'just friends' danced in her head over and over again, but she ignored it. Why did this feel like a rejection?
"I need to go and find a dress, um … I'm very, very dearly sorry for interrupting you."
Madalina turned to leave and Vianola watched her retreat, her brows furrowed. Madalina stopped in the restroom and waved the light on with a hand, locking herself in a stall so she could cry uninterrupted. She did so silently, weeping small, bitter tears. She sniffled softly and dried her eyes before exiting the stall, going back into the mall with misery written across her face. She had just had the reminder that Vianola Benoit was very, very popular, unlike herself. She was being strange and she knew it, but she tried to brush that aside and shop for her dress. Eventually she came down to the very last boutique; One she frequented when her parents were alive.
It was called The Spindle and it was a little hole-in-the-wall shop. Most people overlooked it. But she had known the owners since grade school, and it had changed very rarely. But when she stepped in, there was a new person behind the register. He had short black hair, a light beard, and a mustache. He was wearing the uniform, and had a broad, brawny sort of build. His eyes were icy like hers. She stopped in her tracks, but the man waved her over with a smile.
"Excuse me, where's Miss Celine Rutherford?"
"Ah, you're looking for my wife? She's on maternity leave at the moment, miss. My name is Jeremy Masterson."
"I see. Congratulations to the both of you." She smiled softly, and began to look through their small selection of dresses. She saw a lot of sparkling white dresses, but her hands paused when she found one in bright crimson. Pale as she was, she rarely wore the color red. It made her look flushed, in her opinion. The bodice was off the shoulders and the sleeves attached were transparent and glittery. The skirt was a short cut with red silk roses on the waist. It stopped just above the knee. It was very much not her usual style of high collars and floor-length skirts.
But maybe the change would be good for her.
"Excuse me," Mr. Masterson said, "Are you Dame Chantilly?"
She blinked, looking away from the dress. "I am. I assume you're asking me because I used to come here very often?"
"My wife was worried about you when we heard about the accident."
She stiffened.
"Terribly sorry that your parents went the way they did…"
"Thank you, Mr. Masterson."
"Of course, madam. Take your time and browse to your heart's content."
She turned back to the dress. It would need accessories, but she could make it work.
She plucked it off the rack and held it to herself. It was the right size. Before she could change her mind, she said, "I'll take this one."
"You don't wish to try it on, miss?"
"That will not be necessary." Madalina took it to the front, and paid in gold, which was the currency of Icegrowth. They had busts of the Queen on each coin. He folded the dress up for her and slid it over the counter. She took it and hurried home, wondering what she was thinking.
At least she could focus on something other than the fire for now. She owed Vianola an apology.
As she made her way back to the apartments, she clenched her fists.
She had to find a date next. Part of her wondered if her jealousy was from the idea that Vianola would be going to the ball with Marcilla Lovett.
But that surely couldn't be it. She entered her apartment and sat on the couch for a long time, trying to clear her mind.
She was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Who is it," She called out meekly.
"It's Vi." Came the voice on the other side. "We need to talk."