Four days went by. Invitations went out and the masquerade was nearly upon Basharr. Princess Raegan bustled through the corridors, the king’s seal always in hand. The courtiers had quickly learned to scatter when she drew near after she conscripted half the guards into her service. They were all to attend the ball in disguise, dressed in the most opulent costumes.
Violet had not escaped the princess’s recruitment.
“Is this necessary? I look like a tear drop,” Violet complained, displayed on a tailor’s pedestal in a pale blue dress.
Mirrors ringed the princess’s room and the tailor, a shrunken elf wearing spectacles that might’ve been thicker than the palace walls, carefully pinned the dress’s hem.
Raegan’s eyes sparkled. “You look beautiful! Besides I can’t have you attend with me in your uniform. Stand still.”
Violet sighed. “I’m honored to be your escort, Princess, but this really isn’t me.”