Lady Isabella held Sara for what seemed like hours, but must have only been minutes. The world continued on, unchanged. When Sara drew back and tried to wipe her eyes, Isabella gently stopped her.

“Lady Liliana, we should go to one of the dressing rooms. They have toiletries available.”

“Uh-huh,” said Sara as she stood. Her legs were shaky and her stomach unsettled, but she was able to leave the balcony on her own two feet. She glanced down at her hands. “Thank you, Lady Isabella, for saving my white gloves.”

“It was nothing,” replied Isabella. “I hope you would do the same for me.”

They entered the hall arm in arm. The smaller woman tugged on Sara’s elbow and pulled her along the perimeter of the room with a surprising strength. A servant opened a discreet door as they approached, and Isabella took her down a well-lit corridor.

“You must have your own dressing room,” she said. “I could join you, or I can take you there and leave you, if you wish, my lady.”

Sara panicked in the face of Isabella’s puppy dog eyes. She had no idea which room was Lily’s, or if she shared a room with Celia or any other royal women…

A small voice called out from behind the two young women.

“Good evening, Lady Liliana.”

Another interruption, another lucky break. Sara turned to find Lady Katrina, as delicate as ever in a dress that seemed spun from silver. She was a fairytale princess.

“Good evening, Lady Katrina,” she replied. “How are you?”

“I am… fine,” said Katrina slowly. “My lady, are you..?” She gestured to her own face, indicating that something was wrong with Lily’s.

From slightly behind Sara, Isabella spoke up in Lily’s defense. “Lady Katrina, you should know better than to comment on a lady’s appearance.”

Sara held up a hand and shushed Isabella. Feeling bold and drained at the same time, she was struck with a sense of opportunity. “Katrina, should I annul the engagement?”

“What?” asked the girl, eyes wide. After a heavy pause, she spoke again, her voice rising above her characteristic sweet whisper. “Why in the world would you do that?”

“Because the prince is having an affair with you, and I don’t want to marry him.”

“No, you have to marry him,” said Katrina. She clenched her gloved hands into fists and straightened her shoulders. “You will marry him, and then he will get bored of me.”

“Excuse me?” It was Sara and Isabella’s turn to stand with mouths agape. Sara was the first to recover. “Aren’t you in love with him?”

Katrina looked around, saw no one, and still leaned in close to whisper, “Of course not! Am I that good of an actor? My lady, please. It has been almost two years since the prince gobbled me up at my debut, and your abysmal waltz gave him the perfect opportunity to find a new meal.” Even in hushed tones, the girl’s voice held none of her previous trembling naivety.

Sara’s eyes widened in horror as she remembered Henry dancing with the baby-faced debutante. “How old are you, Katrina?”

“You shouldn’t ask a lady her age,” tutted Katrina, but she continued anyway. “I was fourteen at my debutante ball - it was held later in the season that year. I turn sixteen in a few weeks. So he’ll get bored soon.”

“Fuck,” muttered Sara.

Katrina just scoffed while Isabella blushed at the profanity.

“You always knew. Have you finally given up on changing him, now that you are much too old?” Her tone of voice was harsh, but also wounded. A prey animal trying to survive. Sara felt her heart ache.

“You are rather chatty, Lady Katrina,” said Isabella, looking around. “We should go inside.”

Katrina shook her head. “I will not join you. If you are in here, Henry is looking for me.”

Before she turned back down the corridor toward the ballroom, Lady Katrina looked at Sara with pleading eyes, betraying her brave performance until then. “The king has promised that I shall marry a rich nobleman with an estate near my family. Please, do not annul the engagement, Lady Liliana. I know my place in this kingdom, and it is on my back, not on the throne.”

Isabella and Sara stood in silence as Katrina re-entered the ballroom. Behind them, a door opened and released a gaggle of women among a cloud of perfume and powder.

The two young women looked at each other as if remembering why they had come. Isabella pulled Sara through the nearest door, forgetting the royal dressing room for the moment.

“Let me help you clean up, my lady,” said Isabella. The room was set up like someone’s living room apart from the vanities against the walls. Sara sat on one of the couches and tried to relax.

As Isabella bent to wipe the black and brown makeup that had run from Sara’s eyes, the door opened. Sara sighed as several people entered the room. It was always something.

“Oh my, Lady Liliana, you have hired a new maid!”

The young women were oddly familiar but not immediately known to Sara. She wanted to ignore them, but she couldn’t help seeing Isabella’s face turn red. It brought out the slight freckles across her cheeks.

“Isabella, did your family finally give up on the nobility? Did you have to get a job?”

Sara considered her options as Isabella bent her head, saying nothing. She suddenly stood, blocking the bullies’ view of her new friend.

“Are you all stupid?”

“Excuse me, Lady Liliana?” The ringleader continued to be the only one to speak.

“You two, leave,” commanded Sara. She pointed at the door, and with only a little hesitation, the two girls turned and abandoned their friend.

“Lady Liliana, I apologize, I did not think you would mind my teasing,” said the remaining bully. “We’ve often talked about such things together, have we not?” Her pale eyes flicked over toward Isabella.

A diary entry appeared in Sara’s memory and a name came to her lips.

“Lady Penelope,” she said.

“Yes, my lady?” asked Penelope after a tense moment of silence.

“Answer my question.”

“What question?” Penelope was truly confused. Even Isabella looked a little wary.

“I’ll rephrase. Are you an idiot, or are you just a bitch?”

“Oh!” Both of the other women’s faces showed their shock.

“I am sorry… I don’t know what answer you want from me,” said Penelope, twisting her hands together in front of her.

“I guess you’re an idiot,” said Sara. “I was being cared for quite well by Lady Isabella before you entered. Upon seeing us together, you chose to bully my companion? That was foolish.”

Penelope turned even paler, then pink in very rapid succession. She mumbled her apologies, and when Sara waved her hand, she took a hurried curtsy and left the room.

“That was absurdly easy,” said Sara, with much satisfaction. She heard a sniffle from the couch.

“I am sorry you had to defend me, my lady,” said Isabella.

“No, it’s okay, Isabella, of course I would.”

“It is not alright!” Shame became indignation as Isabella spoke her mind. “Her insults are ridiculous. Even if we lost or revoked our title, we are one of the richest families in our region. Even Lady Penelope’s father does business with us. They just think I look poor!”

“That is nonsense,” said Sara, cupping a gloved hand against Isabella’s rounded cheek. She took a moment to take in the other woman’s face - bright amber eyes framed with thick lashes, plump lips, and soft brown ringlets that hung to her shoulders.

She did look like a country girl, healthy and tanned in a way that the other noble women were not, but it made her more appealing, not less.

Sara caressed her new friend’s face and smiled. “You are beautiful, Lady Isabella. A true rose among thorns.”