Chapter 7: Borrow…
"The carriage is here, ladies," Mr. Brentford—Ariana’s father—called out hastily as the palace-sent carriage waited outside. It was one good thing the palace did: providing carriages for all who would be attending.
"Just a second, Father," Ava replied as she stepped out. Her brown curls tumbled down her back, and she wore a red gown that hugged her figure in all the right places. The body-hugging dress emphasized every curve, and she walked carefully in a pair of high heels rented from a nearby shop—which, of course, had to be returned after tonight.
"Ariana, how many more hours—" their father began, but stopped abruptly as Ariana stepped out.
He fell silent.
She wore a royal blue gown that flowed freely, unlike Ava’s dress which clung to every inch. Likely the reason Ava hadn’t picked this one. But Ariana was grateful. She was two weeks pregnant now not like it showed, and the dress was perfect: modest, comfortable, and elegant. The fabric shimmered softly in the light, her long, wavy golden-blonde hair glistening with golden and blue hairpins that matched the gown. From the knees down, the dress fanned out into layers of glittering royal-blue netting.
Ava’s eyes widened. She hadn’t expected the gown to be that beautiful. In fact, she hadn’t even bothered to unfold it before judging.
"Ariana... how did you get hairpins? They didn’t give me any," she asked, her voice edged with poorly hidden jealousy. She hadn’t expected Ariana’s dress to be so striking. If she had known, she would’ve taken it for herself. Why hadn’t she? Not to mention the hairpins—they looked expensive.
Ariana was going to outshine her. She couldn’t let that happen. Never.
She’s pregnant. No one will look at her, Ava reassured herself inwardly, calming down just a little.
Then, as Ariana lifted her hand to sign, Ava muttered with a smirk, as if just remembering, "Oh right, she’s mute too."
Ariana signed clearly: