In the fairy palace, Queen Faeloria had commanded that Princess Ophelia's banquet gown be made overnight, and it had to be flawless.
Inside the royal fairy chamber the Queen was lying beside King Evandor on the royal bed.
"Ophelia said you suddenly don't want Celeste to make the gown or follow her to the palace," King Evandor said calmly.
"Yes," Queen Faeloria replied, eyes fixed ahead. "I have my reasons."
"And may I know what those reasons are?" Evandor asked.
Faeloria hesitated, then said, "Something feels wrong. Why would the Royal King suddenly ask that their maids be the ones to present them, instead of their own families?"
"It's simply a change of rules, Faeloria," he explained gently. "The maids are only there to dress the girls and present them before the king. And from what I heard, Celeste was chosen because she is the only one who understands Ophelia's taste. She's the reason our daughter always looks beautiful."
Queen Faeloria sighed deeply and turned away from him.
"You don't understand," she whispered.
How was she supposed to admit the truth?
That she felt threatened.
That Celeste's beauty, innocence, and rare talent could steal attention from Ophelia effortlessly.
That she feared Celeste's light might draw the gaze of the Devil King himself.
Morning arrived, and loud shouting came from Ophelia's chamber.
"What is this?!" Ophelia cried, clutching the gown laid across her dressing table.
Maids and two Fae Couturiers stood before her with their heads lowered.
"I'm asking you, what is this?" Ophelia snapped, squeezing the gown in frustration.
The gown they had made overnight lacked everything:
no enchanting scent Celeste always infused into her dresses,
no signature glow,
and worst of all, it wasn't Ophelia's style.
Green floral decorations hung across it like vegetables, plain, dull and uninspired.
"We're so sorry, my Princess," one Couturier stammered. "We weren't sure what you wanted, but we were afraid to wake you."
"Even Celeste knows my taste without asking me! I don't want the same style you make for the Queen. Celeste makes gowns that glow beautifully and always smell magical," Ophelia argued, voice rising.
"We apologize, Princess… but we do not possess the kind of talent Celeste has," the second Couturier said.
Though in her heart, she sneered in jealousy.
Why should a maid receive more praise than trained Fae Couturiers?
"This is a disaster…" Ophelia breathed, placing a shaky hand on her forehead.
Word of the incident spread quickly, reaching Queen Faeloria.
She walked swiftly to Ophelia's room, and froze.
The gown truly was unacceptable.
Absolutely not fit for her daughter, not when noble daughters from every realm would be attending the banquet.
She couldn't let Ophelia be overshadowed.
"Bring Celeste to the palace. Now," Queen Faeloria ordered sharply.
One of the maids bowed low and hurried out to carry the Queen's command.