The next morning arrived with a quiet, golden light seeping through Isadora's chamber window. She stirred slowly, the events of the palace lunch still lingering in her mind. The King's questions, the wary glances from courtiers, and the too-polite smiles. She knew how to wear a mask now, but it didn't mean she liked it.
She dressed, tying her hair back with a dark ribbon, and decided she needed air. And books. The ones in the D'Amore library were too old, filled with stuffy records of past wars and noble bloodlines. She needed books that spoke about etiquette, court politics, and anything else that might help her survive this world a little better.
After breakfast, she called for the carriage and told the driver to take her to the main market square.
"Alone, my lady?" one of the guards asked.
"I'll be fine," she replied smoothly. "It's daylight and the market's full of people. Stay at the entrance if you must."
The town square was alive, merchants hawking silk and spices, jewelers polishing bracelets, and ladies parading in bright dresses, chattering behind fans. It was… oddly comforting. A little like home, though the clothes were heavier and the accents sharper.
She stopped by a modest bookshop tucked between a tailor's and a florist. The owner, a stooped man with kind eyes, helped her pick out a few slender volumes on court customs and the history of Veridion's high families. She paid with coins Celeste had left in her care and promised to return soon.
From there, Isadora wandered toward one of the more prestigious dressmakers in the upper ward. Lady Celeste had given her permission to order a few garments of her choosing, and she figured it wouldn't hurt to have a gown or two that felt like her.
The shop was bright, smelling of lavender sachets and freshly pressed linen. Bolts of fabric lined the walls, and mannequins stood in rows like silent sentinels. Isadora was admiring a slate-blue silk when she heard a voice she'd come to recognize.
"Well, if it isn't the mysterious Lady Isadora," Sephrina Vale sneered.
Isadora stiffened, turning slowly to face her. The tall, sharp-featured noblewoman regarded her with open disdain, flanked by two other court ladies trying very hard to look indifferent while hanging onto every word.
"Lady Sephrina," Isadora greeted, keeping her voice polite, though the edge was already there. "What a… pleasure."
Sephrina smirked. "Running errands alone now? How very quaint. I suppose one must get used to simpler things when one comes from—wherever it is you claim to hail from."
The insult wasn't subtle. Isadora let out a slow breath, forcing a tight smile. "I wasn't aware shopping for books and fabric required a parade. I'll have to remember to rent one next time."
Sephrina's expression darkened. "Your visits to D'Aragon Hall have become something of… a topic. Everyone's talking. A woman of no proper house, no lineage worth speaking of, practically living at the estate of a duke? What sort of impression do you intend to leave, I wonder."
Isadora laughed then, sharp and bright, and the ladies behind Sephrina blinked. "You know what, Sephrina? You're a bitch," she said plainly, dropping the courtly pretense. "A petty, miserable, venom-dripping bitch. And if anyone around here has a problem with me checking up on a friend who's been through hell, they can fuck off."
A stunned silence followed. One of the younger ladies gasped. Sephrina's face went rigid with fury.
"I… I beg your pardon?" she stammered.
"You heard me," Isadora said with a smirk, stepping closer. "I don't care what your gossip circle thinks of me. Or how much it pisses you off that I don't grovel like the rest of them. You don't like me? Good. The feeling's mutual."
She turned to the shopkeeper. "I'll take the blue silk and that ivory lace," she said calmly as if nothing had happened. The old woman behind the counter nodded quickly, her eyes wide.
Without sparing Sephrina another glance, Isadora strode from the shop, her pulse racing, but her grin firmly in place.
By the time she returned to the D'Amore mansion, the sun was beginning to dip. The air smelled of rain on stone, and her stomach fluttered a little at the thought of seeing Lucien again. She changed into a softer gown and tied her hair up before calling for the carriage to take her to D'Aragon Hall.
As the carriage rattled through the gates, she felt an odd mix of nerves and… belonging. Strange, how quickly this place had started to feel like a refuge.
Evelyn met her at the door.
"He's waiting," Evelyn said softly. "He asked if you were coming."
A small smile tugged at Isadora's lips. "Then let's not keep him waiting."
And together, they walked into the Hall's quiet evening
By the time the sun began to set over Veridion, the scandalous news had already spread like wildfire through the noble quarters of the city. Isadora D'Amore's sharp tongue had clashed with Lady Sephrina Vale's poisonous words in the middle of Madame Corvelle's boutique, and there wasn't a single court lady or servant who hadn't caught wind of it by evening.
It started in hushed whispers — murmured at dressing tables, passed between maids changing linens, exchanged with gleeful snickers behind silk fans. The tale grew in the telling, of course. Some claimed Isadora had called Lady Sephrina a spoiled relic; others swore she'd threatened to toss her into the nearest fountain. But one fact remained constant in every retelling — Isadora D'Amore had dropped a string of furious, scandalous words no decent lady was supposed to even know.
And Veridion society couldn't get enough of it.
By nightfall, the rumors had slipped through the palace walls.
In the queen's chamber, Queen Evelyn reclined on a velvet chaise, sipping wine as one of her ladies-in-waiting whispered the newest gossip. A slow, cold smile curved her painted lips as she listened.
"So, the girl shows her teeth," the queen murmured.
Prince Alaric, lounging nearby with a goblet of his own, gave a sharp, unexpected laugh. "Good gods, Mother — she cursed Sephrina Vale? That's bloody priceless."
The queen arched a brow. "Language, Alaric."
But her son grinned, clearly amused. He tipped his glass toward the window as if toasting the distant girl. "I like her. Finally, someone in this suffocating court with a backbone."
The queen's expression cooled. "You're far too interested in that girl."
"I told you, didn't I?" he mused, swirling his wine. "There's something about her… and now this? I think I'll visit Lady Isadora."
Queen Evelyn sighed, setting her goblet down with a soft clink. "You do as you wish, but be cautious. The kingdom watches every move you make. That girl is either a threat… or a distraction."
"I'm hoping for both," Alaric said with a crooked smile.