Anastasia Tremaine's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

Anastasia stood in the manor's front hall with her hair perfect and her stomach empty. She had a worse fear than falling pins. She had never learned to charm a room of nobles. Her mother's rule was simple. One clumsy word tonight could ruin the whole match. So she slipped into the kitchen for a bite of bread and cheese, hoping food might steady her nerves. She chewed by the cold hearth and rehearsed lines under her breath. A curtsy. A compliment. A soft laugh at the right moment. Each one sounded fake. Her mother wanted a daughter who could work a crowded ballroom. Anastasia only knew how to stay quiet and hope no one noticed her. Drizella found her there, half a roll still in her hand. She wore green silk and carried a purple fan. She snapped it open with one flick. "Eating," Drizella said. "Before the ball." "I was hungry." Anastasia set the bread down. "You're scared." Drizella did not soften it. "You always freeze when men of rank speak to you. I've watched it happen." Anastasia's face burned. "I know how to behave." "Behaving isn't charming." Drizella stepped closer. "Mother said we compete equal. So here's the truth. You can't do it. You never could." She fanned herself once. "Give up the Prince. Take a quiet baron who won't ask you to speak." The words stung because they were true. Anastasia had frozen before. She had let silence do her talking her whole life. But something in Drizella's flat certainty made her spine go straight. "No," Anastasia said. "I'll try tonight. Really try." Drizella shrugged. "Then embarrass yourself. It helps me." She turned for the door. Anastasia followed her out to the carriage. She would not give up the Prince to please her sister. But she also would not lie to herself. She practiced in the swaying carriage, whispering greetings, and each attempt still came out stiff. At the palace, the ballroom roared with music and voices. Anastasia entered on shaking legs. A gray-haired lord of rank turned toward her and asked her name. Anastasia opened her mouth. Nothing charming came. Her rehearsed line vanished. So she said the plain truth. "I'm nervous, my lord. This is my first grand ball, and I don't wish to say the wrong thing." The lord laughed, warm and surprised. "Honesty. How rare in this room." He offered his arm. "Come. I'll introduce you kindly." It worked. Not the charm her mother wanted, but honesty. The lord walked her toward a circle of nobles and spoke her name with respect. Across the floor, Drizella watched, fan frozen mid-air. Her sister had not frozen. Her sister had won a lord's favor in one breath. Anastasia smiled at the nobles. But the lord on her arm was old, titled, and clearly taken with her. Her mother wanted a prince. Now Anastasia had a suitor already, and the Prince had not yet even seen her.