The Crowns Choice

❦ Chapter Twenty Four: Charlotte ❦

The dressing room is awash with colour, gowns in every shade of the rainbow draped over mannequins, hanging from racks, and laid out across the chaise lounge. But none of them feel right. None of them feel like me.

Marielle holds up a blue gown, the colour of the sea on a clear summer day. It's beautiful, no doubt, and entirely appropriate for the occasion. It's the exact shade I've worn to every important event since I could remember—always a symbol of the royal family's grace and loyalty. But I can't bear the thought of wearing it tonight.

"No," I say firmly, shaking my head. "Not blue."

Marielle blinks at me, clearly taken aback. "But, Your Highness, blue is—"

"Expected. I know," I finish for her, the corners of my mouth tightening in frustration. "But I don't want to wear blue."

She hesitates, the gown still draped over her arm. "Perhaps green, then? It complements your eyes."

I glance at the emerald dress she presents next, its fabric gleaming like freshly cut grass under the sun. It's stunning, but it doesn't resonate with me. It's too... safe.

"No," I repeat, my tone leaving no room for argument. "Not green either."

Marielle doesn't push further, moving on to a deep burgundy gown, its rich hue reminding me of aged wine and autumn leaves. It's elegant, mature—a colour that would make me look every bit the queen-in-waiting. But that's precisely the problem. It feels like something I should wear, not something I want to wear.

"Burgundy?" Marielle suggests, but there's doubt in her voice now, as if she already knows what my answer will be.

I shake my head again, more decisive this time. "No."

The room falls silent, the air thick with unspoken questions. Marielle is too polite to voice them, but I can see the confusion in her eyes. She's used to me following tradition, playing the part. But tonight, I can't bring myself to do it. Not after everything that's happened.

I step away from the rejected dresses, letting my eyes wander across the room until they land on something different. Something unexpected.

A black gown, hanging on a mannequin near the back of the room, catches my eye. It's almost hidden among the brighter, more traditional colours, but its dark, liquid sheen stands out like a secret waiting to be discovered. I walk toward it, my fingers grazing the soft fabric.

The dress is strapless, with a structured bodice that dips low in the front, the neckline plunging just enough to make a statement without being overt. The waist is cinched with a thin belt, accentuating my figure before the skirt flares out in sharp, geometric layers that cascade to the floor. It's a stark contrast to the flowing, traditional gowns I'm used to—bold, striking, and entirely unexpected. The fabric is a deep, inky black, catching the light with a subtle sheen that makes it look almost liquid.

"This one," I say, my voice steady and certain.

Marielle's eyes widened slightly. "Black, Your Highness?"

"Yes. It's perfect."

She doesn't argue, though I can sense her unease. A princess in black at such a significant event? It's unheard of. But that's precisely why I want it. It's a small act of defiance, a way to reclaim a piece of myself in a world that constantly tries to shape me into something I'm not.

As Marielle helps me into the gown, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The black is striking against my pale skin, the dark fabric making my green eyes seem even brighter, more intense. The dress is everything I wanted—strong, bold, and utterly different from what anyone would expect.