I sat on the edge of the velvet chaise, hands folded neatly in my lap, staring down at the delicate pale blue gown laid out before me. It was far too elaborate for my liking, with layers of silk and lace and tiny crystal beads that sparkled like morning dew, but I had been told, with the utmost seriousness, that the Queen expected nothing less than perfection.

The door creaked open, and a familiar rustle of skirts announced my mother before she spoke.

From the hallway, a heavy, purposeful stride echoed. The sound I knew better than my own heartbeat.

The gown seemed to shimmer between us, a pale blue promise of everything I was supposed to become tonight.