been an abrupt knock on the door, I may have forgotten about the plans for tonight. Was that convincing? Probably not, considering it was all I'd been thinking of since it had been announced, so forty eight hours in and I was on the brink of insanity.

"So sorry I'm late," Autumn said as she came in, Cornelius carrying bag upon bag of, what I assumed to be, things to help me go from ugly troll to average-looking troll. I looked at the clock. We still had four hours until Archer said he'd call for me.

He spread the things over the vanity table against the window. I watched as impossibly more things were taken from the petite bag, like a Mary Poppins-esque magic. Once they were all arranged perfectly, he stepped back to admire his work before going out the door, shutting it swiftly behind him.

I thought to Miles, who had been all dressed up and set off with the others to Ice, not sparing me a glance as he left. I felt really guilty, but I just didn't feel like exposing myself just yet.

She began talking to herself, quietly. I caught snippets of what she was saying, most of it being 'how are we going to be ready in time?' and the like.

"Autumn, you realise we have." I checked the clock once again, just in case it had suddenly changed. It hadn't. "A good four hours."

"Only four?!" She screeched. "I thought we had five. Oh my gosh, oh my gosh. Sit down." I wasn't prepared to argue with her in this state, so followed her orders and let her tug my hair this way and that as she styled it.

Within forty minutes, she seemed to have calmed down a bit and so I initiated a bit of light conversation.

"If you're so wealthy," I started. "Why not just have people do your hair and make up for you?"

She sighed. "I always do my own hair and make up. It's the only time I get a bit of peace, other than sleeping." She set about sectioning off another area of my hair to curl. I watched her as she spoke in the mirror, her face contorting into a slight frown as she told me, "It gives me a few hours to not have to worry about someone listening in on my conversations or selling whatever I say to the press. It's exhausting having to constantly fret about that sort of stuff, so I take the liberty to have some alone time."

"Sounds fair to me," I breathed. I'd suddenly felt a wave of panic as I pondered the possibility of me having to deal with that sort of thing, but reassured myself with the thinking of why would I be of any interest? They'd rather spend their time and energy photographing and reporting literally anyone else than me. "Who else is going to be at this thing tonight?"

"Me, you, Archer, Noah." She looked upwards, seemingly rifling through her brain to think. "I know Michelle and Houman aren't going to be able to make it, what with Michelle's history with the press."

"Her history?"

She paused, momentarily. I could feel her tension rolling from her in torrents. "They've always loved her, but more recently, they've made a point to scrutinise her, catch her at her worst moments. They say some really vile things." Just by the look on her face, I could tell that what was said must be extraordinarily nasty. "The press can turn on you when you least expect it. They'd been so complimentary of her for her whole time in the public eye, but now it's the exact opposite. I think that's why it hit her so hard."

"What does she do about it?"

"There's nothing really you can do," she said. "Free speech means people can say pretty much whatever they damn well please." She took the clip out of her mouth and used it to set my hair in place. "Shell's not so angry anymore. She doesn't have such bad outbursts. I told her, 'it's what they want. They want you to snap so they can catch it and paint you in a negative light.' So, in that sense she's better, but you don't recover from several news outlets and the general public pointing out how you make a dress look 'like a manky, used bin bag from Lidl' or how you've 'put on a bit' and how you'd probably 'eat your boyfriend's dinner, too.'"

"She feels like everyone's against her?"

"Exactly." He hand reached towards her eyes and wiped a tear. She'd done it so discretely that I knew she didn't want the action to be caught, so I removed my eyes from her in the mirror and didn't mention it. "Who else? Ah, loads of people that'll be pouncing on you," she forced a laugh. "They'll be wanting to know the entirety of your family tree."

"Good luck to them with that."

"Come on," she said, spinning me around to face her. "Let's get your make up done, make you look even more beautiful." She grinned at me and despite everything that had just come to light, I couldn't help but grin back, blushing profusely.

***

We'd gone— and when I say 'we,' I mean Autumn— with a simple, but elegant look for the night. She'd picked a earthy-brown colour with an overlay of gold, and a beige lip. The foundation was light, but I felt the urge to scratch. Each time I made to, I'd receive a sharp slap from the artist of the work I'd destroy if I did manage the action.

"Sorry," I said, shaking my now red hand. "Honestly, you slap so hard. I pity the poor guy that gets a slap from you."

She finished off her own make up, shrugging. "They would've deserved it."

While she put on her own dress, asking me to zip her up in the beige material, I remained in a robe she'd brought for me. It clung to her in all the right places, accentuating her model-like figure expertly. The slit down the side made, accompanied by the tall heels she wore, her legs look even longer than they already were. She looked like a goddess. With a final spritz of perfume, she declared herself ready.

She glanced at her watch, looking stressed once again. Just as she was about to complain about Archer taking too long, there was a knock on the door. It wasn't Archer, however, but Robert with a dress clothed in a velvet bag. He handed it over and I was promptly directed to the long mirror.

She discarded the bag and lay it on the bed, revealing one of the most beautiful dresses I'd ever seen.

Like I'd done for her, Autumn assisted me in shimmying the material up my body. The black dress was quite low cut, but tastefully done. It gave me the waist I didn't know I had and made my figure, as a whole, not look quite so rectangular, but instead deceived the eye into believing it to be hourglass in shape. Too busy letting the material slide through my fingers, I hardly registered Autumn decorating me in jewellery. I reached for my mother's ring, but she put up a fair argument— that being it would clash with the emeralds in my ears and those adorning my neck.

I gulped at myself. With every move, the light captured the jewels, making me look like I actually glowed. That's new, I thought.

A second knock broke me from my stare off with the more-expensive-than-what-my-life-is-worth jewellery. Autumn scurried to open it.

Holy man.