The Beauty of Courage

~Sixteen~

Two days pass by and Sophia finds herself seeing no more of Bedall nor Isaiah's mother. Despite living in the same quarters their paths, whether purposely or accidentally, have not crossed. Instead Isaiah has taken the time to teach her some of his language. It is on the third day that Sophia walks down the steps and stops in surprise. Isaiah is not waiting for her as he had been previously. Claudette gestures to the seat opposite her. Sophia slowly goes to it, eyes taking in the table set with two cups and a steaming teapot alongside sandwiches and cake. Her mouth, below her disguise, salivates slightly.

"My son does not deserve a rejected bride."

"You flatter me by thinking in such a short time that I will have learnt your language. Alas I have not so perhaps you would like to repeat yourself, unless of course it was not intended to be understood." Sophia finds some relief in not having to frame her face into a satisfying sweet smile. It would only go to waste.

"You have received a package," Claudette tells her and gestures to the wooden box by the door. It is large and the box itself speaks of quality. Sophia raises one brow, suspicion ruling her senses. Claudette clears her throat delicately. "You will be pleasantly surprised upon opening it."

"I wish I could say I am shocked you have clearly invaded my privacy but as it has happened many times of late I find myself bored by the revelation."

Claudette purses her lips and picks up a cup. She takes a sip before sighing. "Do open the box child. Despite your belief I have not seen its contents."

Sophia slowly rises and goes to the box. Her fingertips brush over the intricate carvings then she unhooks the gilded silver clasp and tugs the lid open. Inside she is met by a layer of fine lilac paper. It rustles as she moves it aside. The gasp gets caught in her throat at the exquisite material expertly designed and sewed into a dress. She lifts it out and there is no question as to its purpose. Her father would not have been able to find her such a dress with all his connections or resources. Despite her initial appreciation a heavy ball falls to the pit of her stomach and the dress slithers out of her fingers, crumpling into the box.

Behind her Claudette has risen and her gaze widens at the box's contents. She, like Sophia, doubts its origin lies with Isaiah. She should have known from the box. She has received enough in her own time.

Sophia drops her hands down and below the tips of her fingers and underneath the fabric she feels something hard. She brushes aside the dress. She abruptly covers it over again and pushes down the lid. She spins round, fast enough to catch Claudette's disgruntled expression.

"Where is Isaiah?"

"He has been sent out on an errand for the King."

Sophia nods then bending down proceeds to lift the box, stumbling slightly under its weight and carries it upstairs. She drops it to the floor as soon as she is able and shuts the door behind her. She slides down the door to a seated position. From there she opens the box again and moves aside the dress. Within, almost as if it is staring up at her, critiquing her loss of beauty is a mask. It is a pristine white and would cover everything above her lips. Small sparkling diamonds decorate the eye openings and trace down the cheeks. Sophia touches it and finds it cool under her fingers. A soft white ribbon wraps around the back and unravels as she lifts it out of the box. The door moves behind her and abruptly halts finding an obstacle in its path.

"Sophia? Is that you or is my sister snooping again?"

"Yes?" She stands and moves out of the way of the door, the mask hanging lifelessly in her grip. He opens the door and catches the fearful glint in her eyes.

"Sophia? What has happened?" His gaze quickly runs around the room, his hand drawn to his hip when a weapon hides. Finding no visible threat he finds himself stepping closer to Sophia.