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chapter four, exceptional.
SQUEEZING HERSELF INTO THE PALE BLUE DRESS PROVED TO BE DIFFICULT FOR FRANCESCA. Her mother, who had picked the dress, seemed to be under the impression that Francesca's waist was the size of a pea, which it was most certainly not. And that wasn't a bad thing, for crying out loud! Francesca was not fat by any means, and it was a shame society made her think she was anything other than perfect.
"Mother, are you sure I cannot wear another dress? This one doesn't fit!" Francesca said, trying to squeeze the dress past her corset clad hips. Her mother shook her head disapprovingly.
"No, Francesca. I bought this dress specifically for this event, and you will not present yourself to the royal family in a dress that has already been seen!"
"But this dress doesn't fit, nor does it give me a personality!"
"Honey, you will be presented to the royal family without a personality. They don't need to hear your foolish opinion and loud laugh, you will be quiet and only speak when spoken to. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, mother," Francesca huffed, finally able to pull the dress over her hips. After almost an hour, Francesca was finally ready. Her skin was glowing and had just the right amount of blush, her hair was perfectly curled and styled and her dress squeezed her waist to be smaller than it naturally was.
"You look okay, my dear," Loring said to her daughter, clear disappointment on her face. It was clear that Loring thought of Sorietta to be the prettiest out of her daughters, and she wanted Sorietta to have the chance to marry the Prince. But all she got was a measly Count. It was horrible, really.
"My dear, if only she was the beauty of our family. She would surly be married to the Prince then, but now," Loring tutted, "now, god knows if she'll even be in the last ten."
"Have faith in her, mother. To your standards she may not be the most beautiful Heart, but maybe the Prince will think otherwise," Amouri said, a reassuring smile on her face.
Francesca smiled down at her older sister, mouthing a 'thank you' to the girl. Amouri just smiled in response, her hands delicately fixing the small wrinkles and folds in Francesca's dress.
"You look lovely sister," Maxwell said, walking into the room with their father. Francesca smiled at her brother, watching as Maxwell and her father studied Francesca's dress.
"What has this become a family gathering?" Francesca tried to joke but her father shut her up with a quick wave of his hand. Anthony, her father, began to circle the poor girl, leaving her trembling under his harsh and critical gaze.
