"Someone is going to ask them to dance, you realise?"

Antoinette and Marie-Fey looked over to Rosalia to was studying Zaafira was a critical eye – or maybe Marie-Fey was being critical and projecting that onto her sister.

Zaafira did look stunning in her royal blue gown that accented her perfect shape and flawless skin.

They were stood in one the large rooms on the first floor. It was mostly empty, with a piano in one corner, plush chairs, large windows and dark wood flooring, used really for mingling when there were gathering at the manor. Currently there were several mannequins around the room, all in various stages of dress as the gowns were worked on, the Rose Castle team pulling together staggering creations at incredible speed.

"Dancing? What kind of dancing?" Gharam asked, intrigued. But she was intrigued by everything there was to be found.

"We can't teach them all the dances in time," Antoinette said, frowning at this undesirable problem.

"But some of the reels? A simple waltz so that they can at least join in at times," Rosalia said.

"Hmm," Antoinette said, "I suppose. But we need some of the men to help practice."

Rosalia brightened happily at that and left, returning soon after with Braydon, Valentine and Luka in tow.

"You're going to dance with us?" Marie-Fey asked with a smirk, looking at Luka as she raised an eyebrow and folded her arms.

"I can't dance," Luka replied, still attempting to detach Rosalia's hand from his arm.

"You won't dance," Rosalia corrected.

"Is that not the same thing?"

"We just need help teaching the ladies a few basic steps," Antoinette said and Luka looked pained.

"I'll go wake up Bel," he said, turning away and Rosalia caught his jacket, tugging him back.

"Just stay, we can wake up the devil if we need him," she said, pushing him towards some of the seats.

Luka shot an imploring look towards Vanessa, who was standing by one of the mannequins, examining the work of the seamstresses. She gave him a pointedly helpless look and he glared at her.

"Fey, can you play something for us?" Rosalia asked, gesturing to the piano, "Just a simple waltz so they can have an idea."

Marie-Fey moved over to the piano and Rosalia asked what the women knew of the waltz – which wasn't much. It was completely different from the traditional dances in their country.

Braydon reached for Rosalia's hand without question, she taking his with a smile. It seems somewhat unfair that they were going to be expected to somehow copy two of the best dancers in the country.

Rosalia had always been the best dancer of her sisters – and most of the society. When Braydon had arrived, it was as if they completed each other and were a now notably flawless pair.

"We won't teach you anything complicated," Rosalia said as Marie-Fey started to play a smooth, romantic, if not simple, piece while her sister and Braydon started to dance, Rosalia going through the motions and explanations as they went with the ease and experience of a natural teacher.

Even pregnant as she was, she was impossibly light on her feet, Braydon supporting her heavier weight and their priceless addition to their family with natural ease and care.

It was obvious that they didn't wait to be in the company of others to dance with each other.

Gharam was practically fizzing out of her seat to try and Rosalia swapped places with her, talking her through as Braydon walked her through. She looked at her feet too much and some of her natural grace failed her as she was concentrating too hard on getting it right but she was good.

Maanah was less sure about the whole thing, indicating that she probably wouldn't dance that night, but Rosalia managed to coax her into having a go. She was clearly self-conscious, her face slightly flushed as she watched her feet. It was odd, Marie-Fey wasn't accustomed to seeing her anything but sure about herself. But she'd been quiet on a whole since arriving.

Zaafira went last and she was depressingly good.

Despite saying she'd never danced the waltz before, she picked it up within minutes, easily sweeping around the floor with Braydon, moving like the steps were second nature.

In a way, Marie-Fey wasn't surprised.

Zaafira hadn't risen to her rank within the palace by being second best at anything. She triumphed over Marie-Fey in everything after all – not that either of them discussed that – so it made sense that she'd, of course, be a better dancer.

That didn't stop Marie-Fey feeling her insides curl as she watched Zaafira glide around the floor, gown flaring around her as she moved like a spirit.

Rosalia even taught a couple of reels.

They didn't get Luka out of his seat, but Valentine was happy to partner, and Antoinette took the place of the third male seeing at the other two men in the household were at varying levels of comatose.

The day drew on. The dancing and dressmaking stopped for a late lunch. Luka vanished back into the depths of his own apartments – probably to barricade himself in his office there until Beldon rose from the dead.

Valentine went to check on Constantine again but came back reporting that he wasn't far off being dead as well.

Marie-Fey and Rosalia exchanged looks at that – seeing as they weren't sure whether his broken heart would kill him or not. The evening would be interesting if he made it to the assembly.

The assembly that was making Marie-Fey's stomach slowly tighten and tighten until she felt sick.

She hated it.

She hated the feeling.

She hated that the people she would be socialising with could make her feel that way – as if it were her fault her husband failed to show.

As if she were the failure.

Everyone finally split up by evening to start the long process of getting ready to leave for seven.

Rosalia and the Rose Castle team went with Zaafira and Marie-Fey's ladies to explain the whole process of the evening and try and alleviate any concerns.

Marie-Fey retired to her own rooms, opening the door and stopping.

A gown she did not recognise sat on a mannequin across the room.

It was a subtle, glistening gold. The sleeves were off the shoulder but made of sheer, shimmering fabric that would reach down to the back of her hands, hooked in place by rings around the middle fingers. The skirts weren't as large as was common, but they trailed at the back, made up of two dozen layers of chiffon.

Marie-Fey stared at the dress.

It was like something Rosalia would wear.

Striking and awe-inspiring. It would stop dances and part crowds.

She would look like a goddess in it.

So why was it in her room?

"What do you think?"

Marie-Fey turned to find Antoinette stood in the doorway, examining the dress from across the room.

"It's stunning," Marie-Fey replied.

"Agreed. The Rose staff really have a way to spin magic," Antoinette said, folding her arms and leaning against the doorframe. It was an uncharacteristically casual pose for her sister.

"Why is it in my room?"

Antoinette slid her cool, unwavering eyes towards Marie-Fey.

"It's more befitting Rosalia, surely," Marie-Fey said.

"She's wearing blush pink tonight," Antoinette replied.

"Sure," Marie-Fey replied, "but this is clearly a dress made for her. Another show stopper. One made to have men asking for her hand in marriage all over again."

Antoinette returned her gaze to the dress. "No," she said simply, "I had it commissioned especially for you when I was sure you'd make it back."

Marie-Fey looked at her in confusion. "Why? I can't wear a dress like that."

"And why is that?"

Marie-Fey stilled at her sister's cool tones. "Why? Because... well because I'm... I'm..."

"Not Rosalia?" Antoinette offered.

"Something like that," Marie-Fey said, narrowing her eyes.

"No, you're not," Antoinette said, straightening up. "You're Marie-Fey Leigh."

"I'm technically Marie-Fey Rias," Marie-Fey corrected without any passion.

"Not here you're not," Antoinette replied and Marie-Fey looked at her in surprise. "You're a Leigh Lady. Don't ever forget that you stand equal to your siblings and above everyone else."

Marie-Fey stared at her for a moment. "Where is this coming from?" she asked, confused.

"You've been looking ill all day," Antoinette said simply, nodding as two of the maids slipped past to help Marie-Fey get ready.

"I'm fine," Marie-Fey lied.

Antoinette levelled a look at her. "Then you'll have no problem wearing that dress and looking better than everyone else."

"I can't look better than Rosalia," Marie-Fey pointed out.

"You don't need to look better than her," Antoinette said, "Simply rival her."

"That's not poss—" Marie-Fey started but Antoinette just waved her off as she turned away.

"The Leigh Siblings all rival each other, none are less than the others," she said simply as she walked away, heading for her own rooms and her own preparations.

Marie-Fey gaped after her. "What was that about?" she asked, astonished, staring at her maids though not really seeing them.

Her maids glanced at her but didn't say anything and, after a moment, Marie-Fey came back to herself and continued into her room, letting them dress her and do her hair and makeup.

When she was finally dressed, she looked at her in the mirror, turning this way and that.

She felt... uncomfortable.

Like she was trying to compete with Rosalia and everyone would know. She didn't want to compete with her sister. She couldn't rival her.

She sat down hard at her vanity table, almost rubbing at her eyes before remembering her makeup.

This wasn't unusual.

Since she'd first married the man, she had faced every situation alone – in her country or his. She had grown used to it.

The hidden laughter and whispers had grown worse over time, true, but she grew more used to it.

So why was this trip home shaking her nerves?

Nothing shook her nerves.

She had almost been poisoned and stung by a scorpion for god sake! Why did this shake her up?

"My Lady?"

Marie-Fey looked around, a glare she didn't even realise she had on turning on Gharam who stood in the doorway to her dressing room.

Gharam wasn't perturbed by the glare however – having seen it too many times already.

She just smiled an angelic smile and held up a small gilt box.

"I thought I might finish your hair," she said, gliding in – looking easily a rival for Rosalia's crown.

"My hair is finished," Marie-Fey said bluntly, turning to her mirror as Gharam stopped behind her.

"In design yes, just a final touch," Gharam said, opening the lid and take a pinch of whatever was inside.

"What else is needed?" Marie-Fey added, annoyed and Gharam gently blew gold dust into her hair, making it shimmer in the candlelight. Marie-Fey raised an eyebrow, turning her head to watch her hair glisten. "You brought gold dust with you?"

"Yes," Gharam said, closing the lid and setting the box on the table before smiling at her reflection.

"Why?"

Gharam just shrugged delicately. "Another layer to add to the shield," she said simply.

Marie-Fey raised an eyebrow at her. "Excuse me?" she asked and Gharam smiled.

"I wish I could make your nerves go away," she said, looking down, absently adjusting some of Marie-Fey's curls. "I cannot stop them. Cannot divert them nor dull them. All I can offer is another bit of amour to help you stand a little taller and keep your head a little higher, even if your nerves fail you."

Marie-Fey frowned at her for a long moment, then Gharam smiled brightly and curtsied.

"Everyone is ready and we are expecting to leave shortly," she said before turning and gliding out.

Marie-Fey watched her go, then looked back at her reflection.

She knew what Gharam was saying.

Knew what she was trying to accomplish.

Marie-Fey just wasn't sure gold dust would do the trick this time...

She rose to her feet, eyes closed and she stood silently for a moment, fingers on the vanity table as she took a slow, deep breath, then opened her eyes, met her own steady, haughty, unshakeable gaze before turning and sweeping out to join her siblings down below.

"Oh Fey, you look incredible," Rosalia said as she glided down the steps – looking criminally beautiful in her own soft, dusky pink gown.

"Thank you, perhaps a little over the top but quite a charming dress, I suppose," Marie-Fey said breezily as she accepted her cape from one of the maids and turned her attention to her ladies and Zaafira, examining their gowns before nodding and looked away. "Is Constantine not coming down?"

"He'll be joining us later," Antoinette said, "Valentine will ride with him."

"And Bel?"

"Luka's already bundled him into their carriage. I think he's still half asleep," Antoinette said with a long-suffering sigh.

With that, their father arrived and they all left, piling into different carriages before starting out.

Marie-Fey ended up in Beldon's carriage – not that he was any use in conversation. He was sound asleep on Luka's shoulder, top hat askew over half his face. She also somehow ended up with Zaafira, unfortunately, so overall it made for a very quiet, moody trip as Marie-Fey and Zaafira didn't know how to make polite conversation with each other and Luka didn't care about making polite conversation with anyone.

Thankfully it wasn't a very long ride and they soon pulled up to Shortgate Manor, which was already alive with music and light spilling from the open front doors as other guests swept up the stone steps, laughing and chatting.

Footmen arrived and helped Zaafira and Marie-Fey from the carriage as Luka dealt with Beldon and the carriages soon rode away to take up their posts and wait while everyone saw once more to their clothes to make sure they were smooth and unruffled.

Marie-Fey glanced at Beldon as she swept a lock of hair behind her ear. She was just in time to see his switch flick.

It was always interesting watching him step into social situations. Like a candle being lit.

Suddenly his heart-stopping smile switched on and fixed in place and his eyes danced with life and mischief, as if there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be at that moment than in the company of these particular people.

It was fake, of course.

Well, not entirely, but Marie-Fey knew it wasn't quite real.

She knew because she knew his other smiles, like the one he used when he was just around the family, mellow but playful – playing up being the youngest brother but softer, quieter, like embers.

The real fire in his eyes was when he was in Luka's company. It was like watching a healthy, hearty fire in a fireplace, alive and strong and warming.

Now, he glided up the steps ahead of them and those in the doorway flocked to him the second they spotted him, cooing and chirping, both men and women reaching out to touch as he passed his hat and coat over to a butler, chatting and laughing at everyone's conversations thrown his way, allowing them to sweep him off into the hall.

Other party-goers soon spotted the rest of his company following behind and rushed to make greetings and for a while Marie-Fey was lost in people welcoming her back and having to introduce her ladies and Zaafira to them all.

Then Sophia appeared and Marie-Fey gripped her arm as they swept away.

"You look stunning, Fey!" Sophia cried as they stepped into the main hall.

"Thank you," Marie-Fey replied, looking back for Gharam and Maanah.

They were currently with Rosalia and Antoinette – her sisters each introducing them to a group of ladies who were gaping at them.

Zaafira – rather bravely Marie-Fey thought – had broken away from the main group and was gliding through the hall, observing the crowd and taking everything in, uncaring for the stares she was being given.

"Where's Constantine?" Sophia asked and Marie-Fey looked at her.

"Where's Ivy?" she asked in reply and Sophia grimaced.

"She's here but, lord, Marie, this is awful!"

"How so? Bayley is charming."

"Marie-Fey," Sophia hissed, "Ivy cried all night after she told Constantine about the engagement and he didn't even react! She told him she couldn't keep waiting for him and he said she should never have waited to begin with."

"I'm quite certain Constantine probably cried all night as well, in his own way," Marie-Fey replied, "I know he got drunk out of his mind last night, our brothers had to go with him to see he got home in one piece. But that doesn't change anything. Ivy chose to not wait and marry someone else – as is her right. She doesn't owe Constantine her youth."

"But what if they're miserable forever?!"

"Sophia, don't be dramatic. Ivy won't be miserable forever. Bayley is too good a man to leave her miserable."

"I just don't want to see her unhappy in marriage," Sophia said.

"She won't be," Marie-Fey said as they walked, bypassing a group of women laughing and chatting behind fans, not stopping until one suddenly spoke up.

"Marie-Fey. Where's your husband?'