A ruby set in a gold ring sparkles brilliantly on my finger. In my old world, a ring from a boy symbolized a lifelong legal and socioeconomic commitment. Here, engagement rings aren't a thing. And yet my eyes cannot leave the sparkling gem.
I wince at a sudden tightness around my chest and am drawn back to the present.
"Apologies, your highness," Lady Westmont says as she tightly laces me into a stunning red formal daytime gown that I had specially made for this week's festivities.
I wave it away. "I am growing up, this is a part of it."
Lady Westmont looks surprised, then chuckles to herself.
"What's so amusing?" I ask.
"You just sound so grown up, your highness. Like a woman closer to my age." Lady Westmont muses.
"I suppose I'm a bit of an old soul." I wonder if in my world I would've already gotten my first gray hair by this age. But then again, I would only just be approaching my mid-30s. Perhaps I would have already gotten married too and had my own child.
