Tales from The Castle (Short Stories)

A Thousand Times Before - Pride Short (KITS)

"Maanah, could you—"

Marie-Fey cut herself off and almost bit her tongue in the process.

Ara looked over to her – her rolling waves of rich deep brown hair falling elegantly over one shoulder – as she quirked a perfectly shaped eyebrow at her.

"Really, Marie, you're going to have to introduce me to this Maanah character. I need to see just how alike we really are," she said, setting a hand on her hip.

"Now that would be interesting," Marie-Fey replied, pointing towards the hair accessory she had been going to ask for.

Ara handed it over and returned her attention to her own hair, adding the final touches to her makeup, examining her powder blue gown.

"We should be quick if we intend to leave with the rest of your family," she said as she picked up her fan and draped her white shawl over her arms.

Marie-Fey, dressed in a peacock blue gown, examined the final strand of pearls her maid added to the back of her hair that was piled on the top of her head. Then she nodded and picked up her fan.

"Alright, let's go," she said, bidding their maids goodnight and sweeping out after Ara, weaving their way through the house until they reached the entrance hall while the rest of her family who were currently in the country pulled on gloves and top hats.

Valentine offered Ara his arm and she smiled, taking it as they all swept down the steps and climbed into the carriages.

"We shouldn't be too late," Mr Leigh said, examining his pocket watch from where he sat opposite Ara.

"Of course not, we're not waiting for Beldon this time," Marie-Fey said beside her, rolling her eyes.

"It does speed up the departure time somewhat," her father agreed, closing his watch.

As it were, they weren't late at all. They arrived at a perfectly reasonable middle point. Not too early for there to be no one too converse with. Not too late for it to be considered rude.

Though, in the five years Ara had been friends with Marie-Fey, she had discovered that it did not matter how late a Leigh arrived at a party. They were still treated like the guests of honour.

Honestly, it was amazing it didn't go to their heads more.

But no.

Oh, they had their vain streaks. But they were also genuine and personable. It had been Marie-Fey who had approached her five years ago to be friends when Ara had arrived in the capital with her family. Their fathers were acquainted through work but Marie-Fey had asked for introductions as soon as she'd seen her.

The interest in an acquaintanceship from someone she'd only heard rumours of had surprised her. To see her had almost bowled Ara over.

Marie-Fey Leigh was beautiful. She had streaming reels of brunette hair that flashed with red and huge eyes the colour of artic ice set against skin so smooth she'd wanted to run her fingers across it to see if it actually was porcelain.

She had tensed up when Marie-Fey took her hand in a firm handshake, the act brazen and direct. Something – she would never quite know what – shot through her, right to her core, in that second and she realised she would be bound to the girl forever.

She had absolutely no idea where such an idea came from. It was nonsense. For all she knew, ten minutes of being in the same room and they'd want to rip each other's pearls off.

But somehow, somewhere, a strange trust settled. As if Marie-Fey had already proved her loyalty and understanding.

She hadn't of course.