The next few days were filled with meetings with the Duchess, all of them to discuss decorations, foods, and who to invite. Ellanor supplied with Lourelle’s favourite colours – lilac and baby blue; favourite food – anything from Casanve; and favourite music – strings and piano, not a full blown orchestra, but the soft melodies of a quartette. Yvet was delighted with the answers and immediately began writing up orders and requests to a variety of shops, florists, and bakeries. She sent her messengers away with instructions on what to buy, and who to consult, as swiftly as ordering an army.

Ellanor could not do more than watch. She had helped Lourelle plan some of the dinners at Skyward, but had never imagined the scale of organising hiding behind a castle ball. She took these days to observe Yvet in action, consuming any bit of knowledge she could. After all, she was to run a manor as its Madam once she was done here.

Luckily for Ellanor, Yvet took care of who to invite. Despite having been raised by Lourelle, Ellanor had no idea who should be present at this ball – she had been a rather private person. This did not seem to stop the Duchess as she rattled off names of people who would be a marvelous addition to the guest list. Ellanor recognised most of the names – she had been trained to take over Skyward at some point – and she knew Lourelle would not have minded a grand party to her memory.

For the invites Ellanor picked a lilac paper and envelope, a close kin to the one Lourelle had preferred to use. An incredible sadness had come over Ellanor as she sat by the open doors to the gardens and wrote every invitation by hand. She had been suppressing her grief for her great aunt for so long it threatened to flow over at any moment, and planning this ball did not exactly help.

Lukas had drifted over from where he stood guard and had put a comforting hand on her shoulder as she crumpled over the table. She had pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes whilst taking deep breaths to try and calm herself. After a few moments she had been able to continue her task, thanking Lukas with a small pat on his hand.

A message had arrived from Dalton, telling of the safe arrival of Gallyia and Aeleon at Skyward – a lie – and his own passing of the Avvyr–Teirales border. He promised he would return swiftly and estimated to be back at the end of the following week. The messenger was instructed to return to the Duke with news of the ball.

“Perfect!” Yvet said and clapped her hands together. “Then we have a date – we would not want Tor to miss the ball. Oh! We must send the invitations today if we are to expect people to come – such a short notice… we must hope my parties are as sought after as the reputation claims.” She had rushed off in a flurry of soft orange skirts before Ellanor could react.

The invitations were sent out, and already the next day replies poured in with the returning messengers. Yvet looked pleased with the overall positive response, her honour intact and ever growing.

Guest rooms were cleaned out and prepared for the attendees, many of them already assigned to specific people based on their preferences – information Yvet just seemed to know. How the Duchess could remember Ellanor had no idea, and she never spotted if Yvet might have it all written down somewhere.

It was three days before the ball that Ellanor finally took the morning off to rest. She was exhausted by all the planning, the constant supervising of servants decorating, and endless dishes to taste – either to approve, change, or deny. For the past week she had not one single moment to herself, let alone to think or even worry.

She slowly gained consciousness to the sound of birds chirping outside her open balcony doors, the sunlight filtering in through the paneled windows. She breathed in through her nose and stretched her arms above her head, letting them rest there. The scent of fresh spring air and flowers from the gardens below mingled with the sweet fumes of her morning tea, and she opened her eyes to find Tara sitting on the foot of the bed, head bent over a book. If she had noticed Ellanor’s waking she did not acknowledge it. The human had a small furrow between her brows, the very same she got whenever she wanted to give her opinion. Black hair spilled over one of her shoulders, framing her profile beautifully.

Ellanor could stare at the image forever, study the light of the room, how it set Tara’s skin aglow. But Ellanor’s heart longed to have the girl’s dark eyes on her, to try and glean the thoughts in her head.

“Good morning,” Ellanor said, a smile blooming on her lips.

Tara’s eyes snapped to Ellanor, her face falling slack for a moment. Then she smiled. “Good morning, indeed,” said Tara and shut her book. “I was surprised to find you asleep when I got here – you have always been up at dawn before today.”

Ellanor scooted up and propped herself up against the headboard. “I asked for the morning off,” she said and took the cup of tea from the nightstand. It was cool enough to drink, almost cold. “How long have you been sitting here?”

Tara waved the book in the air, the end of a bookmark dangling out about halfway through. “Long enough,” she smiled.

Ellanor scoffed. “Watching me sleep, you creep?”

“I have watched you sleep many times, Madam.”

Ellanor blushed darkly at this, distracting herself with her tea. Tara let out a soft laugh and moved up to lie on the bed next to Ellanor. She stared up at the canopy above. The small furrow between her brows had returned.

“What is wrong?” Ellanor asked.

“I do not want to soil your morning.”

“You could not. Tell me, Tara.”

The girl sighed and closed her eyes. “I spotted Clados in the Duke’s study. She was going through everything.”

Ellanor felt her stomach drop. She put down the cup on the nightstand again, scared it might slip from her grip. “Dalton would not keep any proof of his actions in broad daylight. He is more clever than that.”

“I know,” Tara said. She dragged her hands across her face. “But so is Clados. You have not seen her when she thinks no one is watching – she is like a wraith! A golden wraith with a doll’s face.”

“Did she spot you?”

Tara gave her head a shake. “No, she did not. I try to stay as far away from her as possible, try to glean what I can from swift passes, no more.”

Ellanor felt her panic subdue a fraction. “Good. I sense we are on thin ice with Yvet – despite her cheerful exterior. I am not sure I can save you if you fall through.”

Tara’s eyes softened at the pain and worry on Ellanor’s face. She heaved herself up beside Ellanor and put a hand on her cheek, thumb gently stroking her cheekbone. “I will not. I am being careful, you know.”

Leaning into the touch, Ellanor closed her eyes. “I know you are. I am just scared.”

Tara closed the distance between them and gently kissed Ellanor’s lips, her hand going to cup the back of her neck. Ellanor tangled her fingers in Tara’s hair, marveling at the silkyness of it against her skin, scooting closer to be able to fully put her arms around the human. The kiss broke off as Ellanor buried her face in Tara’s shoulder, breathing the scent of her deeply into her lungs. Tara did the same, all the while running tentative hands down Ellanor’s back. They sat there for long moments, the only sound their breathing and the birdsong outside, carried on the wind through the doors.

The moment was broken by the grand clock in the garden below chiming two hours till noon. The girls untangled from their embrace, hands lingering on each other as they again kissed. Time stopped for a minute, before Tara suddenly jumped up from the bed and slapped her hands together.

“So! Get out of bed now, Madam Skyward – no time being lazy.”

Ellanor groaned. “Oh, come on, that is hardly fair.” She slumped back against the pillows, a hand dramatically pressed against her brow. “I cannot get up – I have fainted.”

Tara’s laughter filled the room as she walked over to the armoire and pulled its doors open. She threw a glance over her shoulder. “Oh, whatever shall I do? Is this my moment to steal what I can and run away with my Madam’s handsome brother?”

“Oh, har har,” Ellanor said and sat up again. Tara would not soon let her forget about the lie she had had to tell the Duchess when Aeleon was caught in the hallway. The handmaid had practically lost it when she found out that specific part of the story.

Ellanor flung her legs out from under the covers and stood and stretched. Her tail caught in the sheets and she shook it loose with no small amount of frustration. Tara rolled her eyes.

“You are going to rip the sheets one day if you continue that.” She nodded to the curved spikes at the end of Ellanor’s tail.

“Good thing they are not my sheets,” Ellanor answered with a devious grin. She strode over to the room divider where Tara had hung today’s dress, and began putting it on. She could have sworn the handmaid rolled her eyes as she passed.