Once upon a time, the realms of Chance and Men lived in peace and harmony. The balance of the worlds was perfect. Unfortunately, the thirst for power and magic is an inevitable poison, as insatiable as the noble families of chance. Their thirst led...
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Chapter 2
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The emerald fabric slips through my fingers, and the softness of the satin sends a shiver of excitement down my spine. The positive aspect of living in a village so rooted in its traditions is the approaching night of the summer solstice.
"Catch!" I barely manage to grab the sewing kit my sister throws from the other end of the room, nearly falling off my stool. "Isa!" I sigh, exasperated, but I can't help returning her smile. She scampers toward the crates of fabric delivered in the morning, searching for her next prey. Mother is in the kitchen, and the smell of honey bread fills the room. My mouth waters.
I pick up the feather and parchment next to me and inspect the ongoing orders. "We need to finish Madame Pumperblup's dress today; she will pick it up tomorrow morning." I glance at the mannequin in the center of the room. "It still needs sleeves and the final veil; we'll need to prepare extra fabric just in case."
My sister now has her head buried in the golden trunk, and I clear my throat. "Isabella, are you listening to me?" A muffled voice reaches me, but I can't make sense of it, so I continue listing our obligations. "Cecilia's dress is ready too; she should come by later." I check the box, savoring the sound of the pen scratching against the rough paper.
"And Mother's dress, Madame Ridelle's, and..." The paper is snatched from my hands, and I grumble at my sister, who dances around the room, holding it in her hand. "Yes, the others' dresses, okay," she winks mischievously, brandishing two pieces of fabric in her other hand, one crimson red and the other midnight blue. I know what she's implying. "Isa..." I begin. "Alice," she responds with the same tone. She lays the fabrics on the worktable and sighs, "It's our turn today; we're making our dresses!" She dramatically spreads her arms. "I found the perfect fabrics!"
I sit up and try to retrieve my list, but Isabella doesn't make it easy, juggling with the scrap of parchment. "Please, say yes..." She blinks her eyes, and the green light in her gaze already knows my answer.
Isa already knows that we can't refuse her anything.
She has always had the gift of charming every poor soul who crosses her path. She has always had that powerful aura, and even as children, thanks to her, we always received some kind of preferential treatment from the entire village.
The goldenest bread, the warmest brioche, the front row at outdoor performances... All thanks to her charms, her smile, her voice. All adults entrust her unconditionally; they want to be her friend, her lover, or both, but never her enemy. And by association, I am protected. No one would dare to touch Isabella's sister.
