Chapter Twenty Four

The following days were a whirlwind of activity - preparations for the wedding were in full swing. Dress fittings, guest lists, and endless meetings with caterers and decorators filled my days. Damian and I endured these events with practiced civility, our interactions limited to clipped exchanges and thinly veiled barbs.

One particularly trying afternoon found us in the royal dressmaker's studio. Yards of glittering fabric adorned mannequins, and a gaggle of seamstresses hovered around me, pinning and adjusting the ivory gown I was forced to wear.

"A little tighter around the bodice, wouldn't you say?" Damian chimed in, his voice dripping with a feigned concern that grated on my nerves. "We wouldn't want any wardrobe malfunctions on our big day, would we, Annie?"

"My comfort isn't exactly a priority here, is it, Your Majesty?" I retorted, shooting him a withering look. "It's all about appearances, isn't it?"