Ashara rubbed her eyes, wincing when a jolt of pain pushed against them. She groaned. Ashara stood, frowning when her joints crackled. She padded towards the thick rope attached to a bell in the left corner, giving it a tug. She walked back to the cream colored chair, throwing herself against the bright amber colored cushion.

Ashara jumped up, taking up the fire poker again, and started stabbing at the nearly dead ashes of the fire. A bucket crashing to the ground made her whip her head towards the sound. A human servant, dressed in a brown woolen shift with bare feet, stood past the edge of the carpet.

Ashara made eye contact giving the ashes another stab for good measure. She dropped the poker, smiling sheepishly. She waved, biting her lip to contain her giggles. The servants face turned pale and she took a few meek steps backwards. Ashara clutched her stomach as a fit of soul deep laughter washed over her. She straightened herself out, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

The servant had picked up her bucket and was standing at the edge of the rug, eyes downcast. Ashara cleared her throat. At least now someone else knows how I feel, if only for a moment. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. Ashara pressed her lips together. Her shoulders shook and she crumpled to the ground. Why am I so weak? Ashara knotted her fingers in her curls, gasping when the tears finally broke through.

A slender, soft hand at her back made Ashara tense. She looked up, tears blurring her vision. Eolande? Ashara’s willowy elf handmaiden stood behind her mistress, clad in a soft lilac purple gown made from velvet and embroidered with clusters of yellow foxglove flowers at the hem, neckline, and cuffs.

Her black hair was tied back with a yellow ribbon, it’s soft curls washing down her back like a waterfall. Eolande’s periwinkle eyes were wide with concern. Her soft, full, dark pink lips were parted.

“My lady,” She whispered, kneeling down so she and Ashara were eye level. She took Ashara’s face in her slightly chilled hands. Ashara sniffed, the last of her tears trailing down her face. Eolande’s hand rose in the air, coming down hard on her mistress's face. Her blue eyes were furious and her lips pinched in a frown. The freckles across her high cheekbones and long, narrow nose stood out amongst the angry blush that covered her features.

Ashara gasped, her head flung to one side. Her eyes were still watery.

“You’re better than this, my lady! You’re Ashara, princess of the summer court! Not some milksop wench, prone to fainting and crying!” Eolande stood, feet apart, with her hands on her hips and her bottom lips stuck out, brow furrowed.

Ashara sighed, smiling. She’s right.  I Don’t have the luxury to cry right now. I’m the princess of the summer court. There must be some way to bring George here, to the court! Ashara bit her lip.

Eolande tilted her head, her expression curious, then shook it, smiling. She stood, tugging Ashara up. Ashara smiled back. Eolande stood tall; Ashara only came to her shoulder. She hugged the black haired she-elf tightly. Eolande hugged Ashara back just as hard.

“My lady, what would you like to do today?” Eolande’s lips curled into a pretty smile. Stay inside with- A knock sounded at the door. Both of them turned, twin looks of shock on their faces. Eolande took a step back from Ashara, holding out her hands, and mouthed Stay here, I’ll go see who it is.

The elf’s purple skirts swished as she walked around her mistress. It’s probably the queen. It is the day before my handfasting… It was foolish to think I’d be left alone this close to such an important event. Ashara wrapped her arms around herself, bringing her head down to rest on her chest. A strange thought scurried across her brain. What if I ran away to the mortal realm? Her eyes widened and a slow smile spread across her face.

Eolande’s voice caught Ashara’s attention.

“No, my queen. My lady doesn’t seem to be feeling well today, so-”

“Well we need to see if the handfasting dress will fit her. Now move so we can finish the preparations! Everything must be perfect!” Ashara’s stomach dropped like a loadstone. Cold chills raced over her skin. She looked in horror as Eolande’s pale hands unlatched from the cream door frame and door. No! Eolande stepped away from the door, opening it wide, and moving to the side.

Ashara found it difficult to breathe as Tatiana, in all her glory, towering over her handmaidens and even Eolande, strode into her sitting room clad in a sheer backless moss green gown. Her handmaidens followed, each carrying something. One had the honey colored gown, and another had the white silk chemise.

When the queen moved the white silk of her petticoat peeped out from the slit up the side of her skirts. The combination of flowers made from gold metallic embroidery and silk made the queen sparkle when the sun hit her. Her dark scarlet hair turned to molten fire with strands of gold woven into it and her green eyes were fierce. She turned to Ashara, flicking a frown at her slumped shoulders and wrinkled ridding attire.

`“Did you sleep in that?” Tatiana’s lip curled in disgust. Ashara blinked, not caring to respond. Why does she say that like she cares? Tatiana’s handmaidens came to stand to Ashara’s left, in a straight line, their silk chiffon dresses whispering across the floor. Their hands clasped in front of them.

Each of them had black hair braided into a crown at the top of their head and wore a dove gray roman chiton that fell to the floor and were embroidered with green leaves and red flowers that spread across the skirt and across the boice in a diagonal pattern from the side of the waist. The shoulders of their chitons were gathered, giving a semi fitted look as the fabric flowed over their curves and were belted at the waist with a black silk rope, knotted to the side opposite of where the embroidery started to spread outwards.

“Strip. We must see what the gown looks like.” Tatiana’s voice was sharp. Her handmaidens stepped forwards at the beckoning of their mistress’ hand. One of them pulled the cord in the corner of the room and came to help with undressing Ashara. Their hands are cold… She shivered as they untied her riding garments and slipped them off of her.

Once the stiff garments were in the arms of a handmaid, Ashara was divested of her soft linen chemise. She covered herself, casting her eyes down. I suppose I’ll have to get used to this many handmaidens… I’ve only ever had, or needed Eolande. Since I came here, she’s been the only reminder of a home I barely remember… I surely won’t be able to keep her with me… From what she tells me of her letters home, she has a handsome suitor waiting for her.

Ashara looked at the black haired elf. Her rosy cheeks, dark periwinkle eyes, and easy laugh will certainly charm this suiter of hers. I cannot say the same of mine… Eolande stepped away from the doorway, walking across the pale cream and gold rug, and pushed past the queen's handmaidens.

“I will help MY lady dress!” The handmaiden’s put what they’re holding in Eolande’s waiting arms, cowed by Eolande’s sharp voice and stern expression. She glareed at the nearly identical girls, a scowl crossing her pretty face as she watches them take their place on the wooden floor beside the rug. Eolande turned back to Ashara, giving her a wink, and sets everything down on the seat of the high backed chair.

“Now… We start with the petticoat, right Shar?” Ashara nods, smiling.  Eolande slides the chemise over Ashara’s head, straightening it when her head and arms were in place. She tied the knot, securing the neck of the garment. Eolande turned back to the cream colored chair, grabbing the fabric. The she-elf held the fabric upside down.

Ashara’s hands moved to help her friend, then they fell back to her side, clenched into a fist. When I am queen I won’t be allowed to dress myself. I’ll have to decide what appearance I want them to have and then some of the lesser nobles will bring human women, or daughters of the faerie nobility, from the mortal realm and have me pick nine of them to be my handmaidens… Ashara’s stomach clenched at the thought.

Eolande picked up the gold, sapphire studded silk, showing it to Ashara. She shrank back, her face twisting in a frown. The dress from my dream… I won’t wear it! I don’t want to marry Dandelion! Ashara’s hands clenched into a fist at her sides, shaking. She took a deep breath through her nose and released it, forcing a smile onto her face. She turned to Tatiana. The queen smiled back, her green eyes twinkling.

“Don’t you like it? It’s tradition to wear your mothers handfasting dress.” Ashara tensed, clenching her jaw. My mother isn’t here! Ashara took a breath into her nose, releasing it through the same passage. Tatiana raised a red brow, her lips curled upwards in a smile. Her eyes were staring Ashara down, as though she was waiting.

“I am not wearing this.” Ashara’s voice snapped at the end. She stood, feet apart, her hands clenched into fists. I might not have a choice in whom I will marry, but I will have a choice in what I will wear!