Golden Melody (Editing)

Chapter 39

Chapter 39
Miexha's Point of View

The door creaked open.

I looked up.

It was Madam Lirra—my private bridal etiquette instructor.

She wore a navy dress with silver trim and a bun pulled so tight it looked painful. Her expression was always perfectly composed, like her face had been carved from ice.

Her eyes flicked across the room.

I was sitting on the floor with tear-streaked cheeks and a slightly runny nose.

Jayson was beside me, looking like someone had just evicted him from his own soul.

One of her eyebrows lifted. Barely. But it felt like a slap.

"Young Master Dom," she said crisply, "if you don't mind, we will be beginning the bridal etiquette session now."

A small pause. "Kindly give the lady some space."

Jayson groaned softly. "Yes, ma'am."

I scrambled to my feet, trying to gather what little dignity I had left. My nose was still stuffy, and I clutched my lace handkerchief like a shield.

I probably looked like I had just lost a duel with a tissue box.

Jayson gave me a small wave as he headed for the door.

I attempted a curtsy in return. Badly.

Madam Lirra did not smile. Her heels clicked softly against the marble floor as she closed the door behind him.

"Miss Verra," she said, turning back to me. "Today's session will be foundational. We will begin with posture, formal address, hosting duties, and public conduct as a betrothed woman."

I blinked slowly.

"Do I... have to stand the whole time?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

I tried not to sound betrayed.

I straightened up and wiped the last tear from my cheek before fixing my posture into the position she had taught me Yesterday.

Chin lifted. Shoulders back. Hands folded neatly in front of me like I was posing for an oil painting.

Madam Lirra observed me silently.

Then she nodded once.

"Acceptable." A pause. "Not perfect."

Ouch.

She circled behind me, adjusted the hem of my dress, and—of course—placed a hardcover book on top of my head.

Again.

"A lady must move with precision," she instructed. "She must not stomp, trip, or bounce. Grace is not optional. It is expected."

She stepped back.

"Walk from one end of the carpet to the other."

"Head steady."

"Spine straight."

"Count your steps."

I tried.

Step.

Step.

Step—

Wobble.

Panic.

Tiny laugh.

Immediate regret.

"Again," Madam Lirra said calmly.

We repeated the exercise.