A letter. A simple letter, a single piece of paper inside a red envelope, felt too heavy in Cinder's hands. She wondered if that meant she must start training her muscles again if a paper gave her this much peril. No invitation has battered her nerves before; she is not precisely noticeable to receive any invitation in this life. Yet, an invitation to the royal palace is enough to make her throw it into the flaming sun. 

One of the emperor's sons, Carcel, is hosting a large party for his engagement to Princess Evelyn, the country's princess, where the empire sent millions of knights to die in the war. It would be lying to say it went well with the public. However, here he is trying to cozy up to stubborn resentment and change it into drunken enjoyment…The prince's parties were a riot. 

Cinder sighed as she threw the paper down on her table. She toyed with the small pubbing before her as she grumbled to herself. Yes, she needed to eventually introduce herself back into a noble society. She can't keep getting successful pulls into stocks of multiple businesses without someone asking around. Yes, while she loved her room and the view of lovely fields, she did miss going out into town. She never intended to live like a Kermit; she wanted to walk to New places, wanted to shop for shoes, and she wanted to fucking eat at the tasty cafes in the marble district. 

However, she hates how her stomach turns and twists at the idea of the eyes, the voices, and the hands that would point to her. She was a noblewoman at the age of 25 who wasn't married, was new to society, and was wealthy enough for the prince to invite, albeit he sent letters to many nobles.

"Oh, heavens to the gods, I dealt with petty infighting between hormonal teenage boys in war as a hormonal teenager myself twice," she whispered. She poked at the pudding again, looking more provoking each time she grumbled. 

"Refusing pudding? My, are you that upset?" A joyous voice emerged as Cinder felt a chin nestled above her hair.

"No," she lied. Cinder attempted to crumble the paper before Beth's hand grabbed it. The slender woman slithered down in the chair in front of her. With her head to her hand, Cinder watched as Beth's golden eyes scanned the paper, widening with absolute glee. Her eyes flicked to Cinder to the paper; a devilish smile drew her face.

"Could be good for you," She said. 

"Rot."

Beth laughed as she fingered the paper, "It would do some good."

Cinder sighed as she turned her head to the window. Everloom district was sweet and quiet, but it wasn't Cinder. As much she hated her life, it didn't mean she didn't enjoy the attention and fun she got as a noble hero's "wife." She felt Beth cupping her hand.

She turned her eyes to Beth's golden ones. "Still not going to go," She said.

Beth sticks out her tongue, and Cinder returns the favor. They share a little giggle. A pudgy woman with blonde hair sneaks in as they talk pleasantries. Her arms reach to the sky, inching closer to Cinder. 

"Estell, don't even think about it," Cinder said with a grin. Estell huffed before peaking her head into Ciner's knowing eyes. 

"Is this also considered previous knight training?" Estell inquiries.

"No, you're just not subtle."

Estell's eyes shifted over the wrinkled paper in Beth's hand. "An invitation?"

"To your brother's engagement party," Beth waved the paper. 

"Someone want him?"

"From Prince Carcel, not Axelson," Cinder smirked.

"Oh, that's more sensible."

"And… that's it?" 

"Oh, well," was all she said. She pulled out a chair between them. Cinder and Beth stare at her as she fidgets with the end of her hair. She had recently cut it back down to her shoulders. The young women looked deeply onto the floor. "I heard…his parties are nice," she added softly. Cinder softly brushed her hand to Estell's arm in comfort. 

"I have no desire to go," Cinder spoke. 

She placed her chin on the table and stared lazily at a flower in the vase in the middle. She tapped the glass, "I still imagine it is a rather sweet time." 

"Even sweeter to find a man," Beth jokingly added. However, the damage was done as Estell's eyes lightened up like the sun. She turned to Cinder, who, lovingly, cursed under her breath. 

"You would be like Angelina in Nightingale. You would be," she stands up, "lost in the crowd, like a sole leaf in a rushing river. The smell of alcohol and cigars runs throughout your body. You mindless dance," She started twirling and twisting as she moved about like she was dancing with a stranger. 

"But then," Beth mused, "Another stranger asked you to dance." Beth grabbed Estell's hand, and they moved together as if they were putting on a show to an entire audience, not just Cinder, who found her smiling despite the massive urge to cringe. 

"His movements and hands were graceful, graceful, and soft as if he was an angel sent by the gods," Estell squealed. 

"And I will be the living nightmare in this scene as I can't dance," Cinder pointed out. 

"Even then, when you constantly kill his feet, his eyes were solely on you. Intense and full of desire," Beth responded.

"Then he is undressing me in his eyes," Cinder huffed. 

"I'm into it," Beth spins Estell with laughter. They continued with their little displays before ending with a bow. Cinder clapped while eye-rolling to the heavens. 

A miniature version in her heart yearned for the same theme: finding that handsome stranger that swept off her feelings, unconditional love from a man. It's hard not to fantasize when half of your peaceful days are spent listening to Estell recapping her venture with romance novels. Nightingale was her favorite despite the questionable ideas. Estell is still young, Cinder always told her, and she doesn't know much about society. The young girl was even at the age to have a season, being introduced to society. She doesn't know how cruel, how…devilish it is to women like Cinder, Beth, and herself; in general, it was awful to trans people.

Estell had been around Beth for so many years; Cinder still thinks late at night about how Estell could have such a positive attitude toward others. Even Beth, a woman who has experienced the barest form of hate from the Council of Nagic and others in her pursuit of caring for others like her, wasn't rightfully bitter. It was not like Cinder was bitter; she was realistic. 

I sound like a sad dog; she chuckled at the thought. She felt warm arms wrapped around her shoulders. She hugged them with a smirk. Beth always smelt like a delicate mixture of wonder and smugness. Indeed, what am I scared of? It's a battle, but I survived a war and got this far. Besides, I'm no chump.

"You know what? Fuck it, I'm going. It's a masquerade party, right?" Cinder chimed. "Besides, I have a mage on my side."

"You would let me come?" Beth squealed in excitement. 

"Sure, no one in this society even knows what you look like. Also, the guest will be drunk out of their mind."

"Estell could come too. I heard the palace is massive, and we c-"

"No," Cinder and Estell said in unison. 

"I know this grumpy broad reasoning, but why not, Estell?"

She shrugged, "I have no desire to see that palace again. When I did live there, I only went to four rooms at most, so I will be an awful guide." She fidgets with her hair, twirling the short length, "Also, I'd rather not meet with my brother. I doubt he could recognize my face, but I'd rather not be the rumored dead princess who shows up to her brother's engagement party."

"I guess if I was in your shoes, I wouldn't want to get hot and hea-OUCH!" Beth yelped as Cinder elbowed her stomach.

"I hope I lose you in this ball," Cinder remarks. 

"Oh, you could never get rid of me," Beth laughed. 

Another thing Cinder couldn't get rid of was her nerves as Mary brushed every strand of her hair. Although Mary was usually the gentle one of her and Olivia, she brushes Cinder's hair like her life depends on the hair being as clean as a ballroom. Cinder felt the need to grip onto the vanity every time the brush started from the root to be yanked down to the ends. All the while, she chipped in excitement at the prospect of Cinder finally inserting into noble society as her, as Mary fully believes, authentic self. Cinder wanted to laugh at the concept, but she did like how she looked. She gazes at the mirror of herself; her lips are painted in rose color, her cheeks in plum pink. Her eyes are engulfed in dark brown, which brings out the dark blue of the sea of her eyes. Her eyes shifted to the vanity tops, curious about powder, glam, and tools. Makeup has always struck a perfect melody in her, even in her past lifetime and recent childhood. She never did find that makeup 'made' her beautiful; instead, she found the idea disgusting, but by God, it made a work of art shine brighter in her eyes when the modern standard of today is to have less makeup on your face. 

She will stand out as a masterpiece….a masterpiece that coexists with other masterpieces that have mingled with other masterpieces that might not take kindly to newfound masterpieces that have no lasting name that might be in over her head. And Mary's last yank of Cinder's hair snapped her out from the leaking insecurity parade.

She pushed her lips together, "Are you perhaps still mad at me for giving Olivia the room with a view of the garden?"

Mary scoffs, "No, I'm poring my pure talent onto you." She wrapped her into a bun with a red hairpin holding it together. Cinder's bangs, curled, hangs over her ears. 

"So, you saying you were half-assed my hair before?" 

"Oh my dear, no. But don't you think you look even more pretty?" She did look pretty. Shame it would be hidden behind a mask. Cinder stood up as Mary grabbed the corset. She wrapped it around Cinder's waist with a nice squeeze. As Mary tied up the string, she said, "You never know. You might catch someone's eye."

"Not you, too."

"Oh, come on. You can't truly believe that someone wouldn't eat you up at any given chance." 

Cinder went silent. Maybe romance wasn't in her orbit. She was the one to desire and want, not the desire-e… Such things are up to luck; she was a skillful Lady, not a lucky one. A soft pair of creamy white arms wrapped around her waist. She felt Mary's chin on her back; she smiled as she just knew poor Mary was definitely on her tippy top toes to even reach Cinder's upper back. "You okay over there?" She asked in loving concern. 

"Oi vey, this was much easier when you were just my little lady."

"Bodies are bound to change throughout the years, whether or not we like said changes."

"Who are you? Olivia?"

Cinder chuckled, "She rubs off on me."

Mary unwrapped her arms around Cinder and continued to dress Cinder up in the dress of her choice, a floor-length puffy dress colored crimson. Her neckline was exposed from a deep collar as her breasts were pushed up, which she rather liked. Those goods were hard to work for, so why not show them? She soon settles for black arms-length gloves and a simple silver necklace to define her neckline. She looks at the mirror of her vanity again to review the work. Sometimes, it still doesn't feel natural to be back in the world like this. Sometimes, it felt like she was going to wake up in her gilded cage again with no one by her side except the raging feeling of hatred in her heart. She looked the same as in her past life, except she was more venomous and bitter. She didn't like that version of herself.

Still, she can't seem to hold herself to a benchmark of specific skill sets of proper noble party equities, both past and present. It took her a whole year to properly pour any substance without turning the whole thing upside down due to impatience at the rate at which everything flowed. Dancing was a massive avoidance as she couldn't truly get into the mindset of letting someone else take the lead to waltz, causing her to murder any foot near her presence. She victimized enough feet to be labeled as a massacre. And alcohol, while sweet to her, the raging smell of it at any party gives her a headache. 

Now, she realizes how much Beth convinces her to embark on an event where luck nor even the fucking gods would be on her side. She rubbed her chin as she smirked in utter humor of her situation. Well, if I'm going to this party, I get back to Beth by having her come to a horse race with me, she thought. The idea was perfect. 

So perfect, in fact, that darling Beth's face, turning into a pout inside the carriage, rumbling down the polished pavement roads to the empirical palace, was like sweet honey shouted into a freshly brewed tea. That is the taste of revenge. 

"You want me to die?" Beth scoffed as her pouting face deepened. Her hair, a bit short, was dolled up, similar to that of Cinder's. Further, even her outfit was identical to Cinder's. However, it was a dark yellow. It was common for prestigious families to coordinate their outfits with each other. However, this is the first time Beth didn't use magic to change her face. It was authentic and bare as a canvas. 

"Is that all you going to put on?" Cinder inquired, ignoring Beth's mocking tone. 

Beth brushed her hair from her face, "Like you said before, no one has seen my face. They have seen my old disguises but never my real face."

When they run Beth out of town, they never manage to stop her business and arrest her. In addition, Cinder had to use Griffnth to contact her; she did not realize she was talking to the honest Beth when she met with her on that fated day. She thought it was a joke seeing how young Beth looked despite all the years she had been rumored about. Mages were like subordinates to wizards in that they were often used for more practical and industrial levels of magic. Like wizards, they were mythical, yes, but they were not immortal. They live and die as others, but Beth seems different. Once, Cinder asked if she was like an angel or something. Beth responds with a delightful smile if that endears her more to Cinder.