Nora shrugged her tiny shoulders. “And what does any of that have to do with a new dress?”
“It’s about taking control. I’m wearing what I want to wear. It’s only a dress, I know. It won’t solve starvation or elect a queen, but things will never change if someone doesn’t do something. That’s why I want a new dress.” Renna didn’t know if it was a good enough reason, but it was all she had. That, and an unyielding certainty that if she had to walk away from Trev forever, she would do it on her own terms. And she wouldn’t be forgotten.
“That’s what my father always says,” Nora said, sitting up a little taller. “Things will never change if someone doesn’t do something.”
“So you’ll help me?” Renna smiled. “I promise I’ll tell everybody that I did it on my own. I’ll leave you out of it, so you won’t get in trouble.”
Renna must have said something right because Nora nodded. “Okay. I’ll help you.”
She leaned over, hugging the girl’s small body to her chest.
Changing her dress was just one of the many crazy things Renna had thought of since witnessing Trev’s kiss with Seran, since King Carver’s visit, since running into Trev on the stairs. The memories were vicious; every cutting word, every heartbreaking moment, none of it had been lost. Instead, the memories had taken up residence in the front of her mind. It was all there, the highlights on repeat, wreaking havoc on her self-esteem.
You’re just like your mother . . . you’re an embarrassment.
And her favorite.
You’re a liability.
There was no way to escape the diseased thoughts. Instead, she let them become her excuse—her reasoning—for wanting to challenge societal rules.
Renna spent the rest of the day working on her new dress with Nora. It was a good distraction from her broken heart.
At seven p.m., Cypress opened the door in a rush. Renna glanced at her through the mirror as Nora worked on her makeup.
“Renna, why aren’t you ready? The queen is waiting for you in the hall.” Her words were filled with displeasure.
“Tell my mother not to wait for me.” She smiled sweetly—too sweetly. “I lost track of time. I’ll be down to the ball in a minute.”
Her mother would be fine going ahead without her. They still weren’t speaking.
Renna’s dress wasn’t going to help their strained situation, but the dress had nothing to do with the queen. Eventually, her mother would get over it.
Eventually . . . when they were back in New Hope and no one knew about it.
Cypress seemed upset, but that was nothing new. “Very well.”
A dramatic entrance—that’s what Renna was after. She was going to demand everyone’s attention, especially Trev’s and King Carver’s. Nora finished arranging Renna’s hair exactly how she had asked; she had even shown her the picture of how it was supposed to look. It was twisted in a pile on top of her head with wispy bangs sweeping across her forehead. Her makeup was done a bit thicker than usual with bright red lipstick as the finishing touch. Renna didn’t want to miss a single detail.
Now it was time for the dress.
What Renna stepped into was anything but conservative. She and Nora had worked for hours recreating the red dress from the magazine. The one Trev had shown her during the tour of the palace. Nora and Renna had even run back to the artifact room several times to figure out how to replicate it. After hours of measuring, cutting, and sewing, the dress looked exactly like the one pictured. They’d had to get creative with Renna’s undergarments, unsure how women used to keep their breasts in place in dresses like these. She’d also had to practice sitting down carefully because the slit came up so high on her thigh.
Wearing the dress, Renna would show more skin than she ever had in her life—more skin than she had ever seen anyone else show, either. A dress like this was borderline criminal in conservative New Hope. It was even pushing the limits in Albion, but the modesty rules were stupid. The Council of Essentials didn’t follow their own rules, so why should Renna follow the modesty one? That was the whole point, wasn’t it? To remind the Council they weren’t the only ones who could exercise a little bit of will power.
She took a deep breath as she looked at herself in the mirror. This was what crazy looked like, but she liked knowing she was doing something for herself.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Nora had a worried look on her face, making her look older than her twenty-one years. “We could still put you in the blue dress, and no one would ever have to know.”
This was the first step Renna needed to take to prove to herself she was in control of her own life. “I’m sure.”
“Well, the dress is stunning.” Nora squeezed Renna’s shoulders from behind, the way an adoring mother would. “You look stunning!”
“Thanks, Nora. And thank you for all your hard work today. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Music floated upward from the great hall below. Renna steadied herself on the railing at the top of the stairs—her confidence going head-to-head with her self-doubt.
A hard swallow. A countdown.
One. Two. Three.
Renna’s red, high-heeled shoe took the first step down the stairs.
No one noticed her.
Another step. Then another.
One head turned. A couple more, until a sea of eyes took in her dress and her body. All the pleasant party sounds muted into hushed whispers. Renna even swore the musicians faltered for a moment. She scanned the crowd as she slowly moved down the last few steps, not missing her mother’s shocked expression, Seran’s embarrassed grimace, King Carver’s angry glare, and the gaze she anticipated the most: the jaw-dropped expression on Prince Ezra’s face. She had stopped him midsentence.
Seran and Jenica got to her first at the bottom of the stairs. “Your dress is outrageous!” Jenica’s words came out in a high-pitched whisper.
“I thought I would try out a new style,” Renna said innocently. “Do you like it?”
“No, I don’t like it! Go upstairs and change this instant!” Jenica’s face contorted into a pout.
Renna raised her eyebrows at the obnoxious girl. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I taking too much attention away from you?”
Jenica’s eyes went wide as she stuck out her bottom lip. “I’m not worried about me. This night is supposed to be about Seran. How could you do this to her?”
Renna looked at Seran as guilt expanded in her chest. She had guessed Seran would be upset, and rightfully so, but Seran was a gorgeous princess; nothing would ever take the attention away from her completely.
Renna braced herself for Seran’s anger, but whatever the princess felt, she masked. She raised her chin. “There are modesty rules in place for a reason, Renna. I think it is important to obey the rules.”
“Not every rule should be obeyed.” Renna shrugged and pushed past Jenica and Seran and nearly collided with the queen.
Her mother’s tight grip stopped her feet. The queen’s long, painted nails dug into her forearm like the claws of an eagle. She looked like she was going to have a heart attack. Probably fall dead on the floor. Renna wouldn’t even be able to help her, with the way the tight fabric of her dress trapped her legs and torso, keeping them from bending. The dress was that ridiculous; her mobility was a complete hostage to it.