The rest of the morning passed in a blur of footsteps echoing through the mansion, hushed conversations, and a constant feeling of being watched. Isabella felt as if the air itself had tightened around her, thick and heavy. Servants moved with purpose. Fabric rolls, lace samples, and pearls were brought out.
She had barely touched her tea when a soft knock sounded on her door.
Two maids stepped inside, bowing their heads politely."Miss Isabella," one said, her voice almost too gentle. "Lady Carrow is waiting in the bridal atelier to begin your fitting."
Isabella's stomach twisted. The word bridal pressed hard against her chest.
She rose slowly, smoothing her hands down her skirt."Yes. I'll come," she murmured, though her voice did not feel like her own.
The bridal atelier was bright and airy, walls draped in white silks and long mirrors. Lady Carrow, the wedding seamstress, greeted her with a warm smile."There you are, dear. We have much to look at."
Isabella stood on the platform in front of the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her: pale, tense, eyes tired from the night before.
Lady Carrow began draping fabrics over her shoulders."This lace is imported from Florence. It is light, classic. Very elegant for a bride."
Isabella inhaled slowly."Do I get a say in what I wear?" she asked.
The seamstress paused."Of course."Her smile was kind but held a shadow of but we both know the decision is already made.
Isabella glanced toward the window. Outside, the gardens swayed in the breeze. For a moment, she imagined herself running again. Running far. Running until no one could ever find her.
Her thoughts were interrupted when the door opened.Elijah walked in.
He didn't announce himself. He didn't need to. His presence filled the room instantly.His eyes found hers in the mirror. Calm. Observing. Always observing.
Lady Carrow stepped aside with a graceful bow."My lord. We are just beginning."
Elijah nodded once."Continue."
Isabella's pulse picked up."You didn't have to come here," she said quietly.
"I know." Elijah moved closer. "I chose to."
He came to stand behind her, hands clasped behind his back.She could feel his warmth even without his touch.
Lady Carrow positioned a veil over Isabella's dark hair."Do you like it?" she asked.
Isabella swallowed."I don't know."
Elijah spoke before the seamstress could."It suits you."
Her jaw tightened."You don't decide what suits me."
He shifted, eyes steady on hers in the mirror."You believe you have no ground here. Yet you stand, and you look at me like you could burn this entire place to the ground. That is strength. I would not take that from you."
Isabella's breath stalled for a moment.She didn't know if it was flattery or manipulation.
Probably both.
She turned to face him, veil still resting lightly over her hair."You say you didn't tell them the truth because you wanted to protect me. Or protect yourself. But what about protecting my choice? What about protecting who I am?"
Elijah's expression shifted, barely noticeable."You still have who you are," he said softly."No," she whispered. "I have who you want me to be."
Silence filled the room.Lady Carrow carefully excused herself, leaving them alone.
Elijah took a slow step closer."Isabella." His voice was lower now. Almost gentle. "You think you were given away. Traded. Forced. Perhaps that is true in part. But I gave up things too. I did not choose lightly either."
She frowned."What could you possibly have given up?"
His eyes met hers, steady and quiet."My freedom. The same as you."
She blinked.The answer she expected was power, duty, responsibility. Not that.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Elijah reached out, lifting the veil slightly, fingers brushing her cheek with surprising care."You are not alone in this," he said. "Even if you hate me right now."
Her heart pulled in two directions at once.Anger. Fear. And something else she didn't want to name.
She stepped back."I don't need your comfort."
"I know," he murmured."But you have it anyway."