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Chapter 8
The next day, Father sent me to the most famous dress shop in the capital.
Officially, it was to have my wedding dress made.
Our group consisted of four people in total: Iswen, Father’s aide Paiden, Apple—who accompanied me as my personal maid—and myself.
Damian, who had been thoroughly beaten by Iswen the day before, had locked himself in his room and refused to come out.
We left the estate in two carriages.
I rode in one with Apple, while Iswen and Paiden rode in the other.
Seated across from me, Apple stared out the window and muttered through gritted teeth,
“…None of them have a shred of damned conscience.”
Apple had heard everything from me the night before, after I returned to the estate.
“They still can’t let go of that cursed tree, so they’re marrying you off? They’ve truly lost their minds.”
Her face had gone pale with fury, trembling so hard it looked as though she might storm straight to Father that very moment.
Fortunately, Apple did not go shove Father over a balcony railing.
“No… even so, Duke Raslet is a good person.”
At that, Apple turned her gaze from the window to me.
Her warm brown eyes settled on me.
“You always only see the good in people, milady.”
Though her tone was gruff, her eyes were full of affection.
To reassure her, I smiled.
Apple was the one who viewed me too positively.
If she knew how many flaws I found in myself whenever I looked in a mirror…
Or how suffocating it felt every evening at the dinner table, surrounded by family members whose faults I could never ignore…
She would never say such things.
“He really was a good person.”
Apple let out a small sigh before finally conceding.
“If milady says it twice, then there must be a reason.”
But please don’t trust people too easily—
Before she could finish, the carriage stopped.
We had arrived at the dress shop.
“Welcome, Lady.”
A beautiful blonde woman standing before the shop smiled at me.
It was Ratilde, the shop’s owner.
Ratilde, who ran the boutique under her own name, was the most famous women’s dressmaker in the capital.
Usually, she was invited to noble estates for fittings—
But today, Father had deliberately arranged for us to visit her shop instead.
It was all to spread news of this marriage as widely as possible.
By now, the story of Shioden and my marriage had transformed into some grand love story powerful enough to bridge the feud between our two houses.
And that story had been scattered in every direction.
Even I—someone always late to such news—had quickly heard it.
Though those who knew of Rowen’s cruelty, and of Father’s poisoning of the former Duke of Raslet, could only wear expressions caught somewhere between agreement and contempt.
Like Ratilde now.
“Young Duke, welcome as well.”
Though her lips smiled, she could not entirely hide the complicated look in her eyes as she greeted Iswen, who stepped out after me.
She then led us inside.
“I’ve cleared out the entire second floor for you instead of using the first, where regular guests come and go.”
As Ratilde climbed the stairs ahead of us, Paiden—Father’s aide and loyal watchdog—immediately began swaggering the moment we arrived upstairs.
“His Lordship instructed that it must be extravagant.”
He stroked the mustache he considered his greatest pride—
Though no one but himself thought it impressive.
I had the immediate feeling Iswen would not let that pass.
Though both were Father’s subordinates, Iswen and Paiden did not get along.
No one had ever explicitly told me why, but I had my suspicions.
Iswen hated noisy, oblivious people.
And Paiden was both.
“It must be worthy of the Rowen name. She should look like the most dazzling bride of the year—”
“Enough.”
Just as expected, Iswen cut him off.
“Father has already spoken to me personally, so be quiet.”
Then, while Paiden continued rambling, Iswen turned to Ratilde, who had busily been preparing fabrics.
“Isn’t that material too thin?”
Ratilde had just spread a length of pure white silk across a long table.
With the calm smile of a true professional, she replied,
“This is the most commonly chosen material for wedding gowns.”
“Wouldn’t velvet be more appropriate?”
That was when Paiden interrupted again.
“His Lordship said it must be made from the most beautiful fabric available.”
Iswen silently turned to look at Paiden.
It was the same look he gave Damian—
The kind that suggested he wanted to drag him straight to the training grounds.
Sensing the tension, Ratilde quickly interjected.
“There is a silk slightly thicker than this, with little visible difference. If we add a warm lining beneath it, it will also be suitable for colder weather.”
Even while mediating, she never lost her professional smile.
Just as Iswen was about to respond—
“Wouldn’t adding layers make her look bulkier?”
In an instant, the entire second floor fell silent.
Granted, “entire” only meant our group, Ratilde, and her staff—
But in that moment, everyone seemed united.
Every single person stared coldly at Paiden.
Especially Apple, who stood beside me looking as though his very existence disgusted her.
Apple had hated Paiden for years.
There were many reasons, but chief among them was how nauseatingly he fawned over Father.
Perhaps finally sensing the frozen atmosphere, Paiden darted his eyes around and coughed awkwardly.
“Ahem… ahem. I merely meant that I want milady to shine as brightly as possible…”
“Did Father instruct you to evaluate your master’s daughter’s appearance?”
“No.”
“Then I suggest you refrain from wagging your tongue so boldly.”
Ratilde forced a pleasant smile.
“Lady Iela is already so slender that such concerns are unnecessary. Concealing a lining entirely would be effortless.”
Thankfully, Paiden kept his mouth shut after that and did not ruin Ratilde’s valiant attempt to restore the atmosphere.
With Paiden finally silenced, Iswen became the only one voicing opinions, and the process moved quickly.
They finalized the gown’s details, rechecked my recorded measurements, and even ordered a white fur outer coat for me to wear if necessary.
Only then did Iswen conclude the matter.
As we headed downstairs, I heard voices below.
I could only hope it was no one troublesome.
I was already exhausted enough from the fitting alone.
I had no energy left for social conversation.
Taking Iswen’s hand for appearances’ sake, I descended the stairs—
When suddenly, someone strode quickly toward us.
“Ella.”
It was a familiar voice.
Startled, I looked over the railing—
And saw Shioden staring up at me.
Apparently, Damian truly had said nothing to him.
Otherwise, Shioden would never have approached me with such open delight.
“Ella?”
His gaze met mine—
Then shifted to Iswen, who was escorting me beside him.
Shioden’s brow narrowed slightly.
Like a man realizing he had made a mistake.
“Lady Rowen.”
The correction in my title made it clear what mistake he believed he had made.
“May I speak with you for a moment?”
It hurt, a little, the way he now treated me like a stranger.
But I had things I wanted to say too.
Yet before I could answer—
Iswen stepped in.
“My apologies, Duke.”
He deliberately lifted the hand he held with mine just slightly, ensuring Shioden would notice.
“My sister is returning to the estate with me.”
Shioden’s expression turned glacial in an instant.
That change startled me.
Until now, I had thought his coldest expression was simply the blank one he usually wore.
But now—
I realized Shioden was capable of looking far colder.
“I was not asking you, Young Duke.”
“Duke, just because Iela favors you does not mean all of Rowen does.”
Iswen descended the rest of the stairs.
Still gripping my hand tightly, he forced me to follow.
As we passed Shioden, Iswen twisted one corner of his mouth.
“Until the ceremony, Iela is still a Rowen. If you wish to speak with her, make an appointment first and come to the estate.”
The sheer spite in his tone was unmistakable.
As Iswen led me outside the dress shop, I heard Shioden’s voice behind me.
“My lady, just a moment. I won’t take much of your time.”
At those words, Iswen tightened his grip on my hand as though determined not to give me even a second to respond.
The only thing I could do was turn my head back as far as possible.
“See you… later.”
Shioden looked at me with eyes full of disappointment, confusion—
And something else I could not name.
After that…
No word ever came from Raslet.
Though someone else came in Shioden’s place.
When I entered the drawing room, the man waiting inside turned toward me.
“Iela.”
A young man with golden hair like pure sunlight and pale sky-blue eyes.
It was Aiden—
For some reason, looking slightly thinner than before.
