Stigmata

I am not Wearing That

I resisted the urge to sigh. Again.

After a few days in my uncle's manor, I was starting to get an idea of how things worked in the Capital. I wasn't allowed to leave, of course, but the manor served as a small scale reflection of the world outside. There was a hierarchy that everyone had to obey, even me. Though I technically had the highest rank, I was still a guest and thus bound by the laws of hospitality to always submit to my host. My place in the Palace would be similar. As a princess, there were very few people with both the power and authority needed to reign me in, but they still existed.

Of course, my status as a Saintess offset this, but it wouldn't do to come off as arrogant right from the beginning.

None of that mattered right now, though. I sat on an obscenely expensive sofa with my back straight and my hands folded in my lap. Taylor stood behind my right shoulder, ready to serve me should I need it. A woman sat beside me. She was beautiful in a way only mature women could be and the faint lines on her face spoke of a life filled with smiles and laughter. Her dark brown hair had a few streaks of white, but they only added to her mystique. This beautiful woman was my aunt, Duchess Mathilde Shay, and the current bane of my existence.

The smile on her face was anything but sincere as she spoke to the seamstress who was showing off her wares. There were mannequins dressed in extravagant clothing and swaths of fabric strewn about. The seamstress' expression was just as fake and I pinched the flesh between my thumb and forefinger to keep a headache at bay. I hated picking out clothing. In this life and my last, I was more than happy to just wear something simple and functional. As a result, I tended to skip over dress up scenes when they showed up in my reading. If only I had the power to do that, now, too.

"Surely, you can't be serious, Madame Sucre," my aunt was saying. "Look at her. Do you really think those designs will suit her? With her body type? Where did you say your certification was from?"

The seamstress didn't even bat an eyelash. "Your Grace, you must understand. If you dress her up in anything but the latest styles, she'll be a laughing stock!" Truth.

She wasn't wrong. The original had suffered a lot of humiliation for dressing poorly. I didn't care about that, though. As long as I wasn't naked...

Scratch that. I really didn't like some of the dresses on display. I knew nothing about fashion, but the giant skirts and frills gave me goosebumps. Couldn't I just wear a priestess' outfit like the one I had on now? A Saintess was supposed to be above such things, right?

My aunt scoffed. "The issue with trends is how quickly they change. What we want—nay, what we need—is something timeless. My niece must stand above the rabble as a pinnacle of beauty and grace." Truth.

"I agree with you, Your Grace." Madame Sucre was surprisingly stubborn. A lesser woman would have given in to my aunt's demands by now, if only to avoid offending the most powerful noblewoman in Acan. "Believe me when I say I only have the princess' best interests at heart! I also wish for her to establish herself as an untouchable beauty, but going against the trends is too great a risk!" Truth.

Ah-ah. So, she was a member of the Noble Faction. Her investment in my appearance made sense now. My Coming of Age Ceremony would be my first time acting in my official capacity as princess. Naturally, I needed to look like I belonged in high society, but all this arguing seemed a little extreme. As long as I fit in, wasn't that enough?

I didn't have the courage to say so, as much as I wanted to. To be perfectly honest, they kind of scared me. If I said something they didn't agree with, they would probably tear me apart.

"Perhaps we should ask my niece for her opinion," the Duchess said with false kindness. "She is the one who will wear it, after all."

Two sets of eyes fixed their gazes on me and I had to force myself not to recoil. Aiyah~, Auntie! How could you do this to me?