ARABELLA
Chapter Eight: The Preparation
Arabella was in her bedchamber, being dressed for the Feast. It was to be a special night for her, although she didn't know the half of it yet. Her maidservants were bustling around the beautiful Princess, pinning her hair in place, buttoning her gown, and powdering her face.
Arabella had chosen a shimmering gown in the exact emerald shade as her eyes. At her throat, there shone a single large ruby, the very color of her lips. Her father had brought the ruby to her the night before.
"My darling," he had said. "I am so very proud of the beautiful and accomplished daughter I have." It seemed to Arabella that there were tears in Stefan's eyes.
"Father?" she asked, concerned. "What's the matter?"
The King smiled at his daughter. "Nothing, my dear. I just never thought it was possible for me to have a daughter to raise with love." He kissed her on the forehead and shut the door behind him as he left.
Arabella stood wondering, for she had never seen her father cry before. She would soon learn the significance of King Stefan's words, but for now, they puzzled her.
Now, the night of the Feast, Arabella fingered the ruby at her throat, and remembered her father's words – he had said he was proud of her. She smiled at herself in the mirror and touched her hair one last time. Tonight she would make him proud of her. She took a deep breath and turned towards the door.
She was ready for anything.