Damn Straight, Your Highness

Chapter 23 - Seamstresses & All the Wrong Dresses

I suck in my stomach, and all the air around me, as per the wishes of the seamstress. The frail woman wound up the laces behind my back, tightening the corset and officially restricting me from breathing.

I cough out and flail my arms everywhere, as Emma eyes widen in alarm.

"Too tight, you're going too tight!" Emma stresses at the woman and undoes the back my dress herself. My grandmother purses her lips as she sits down across from me, judging the work of this dress in particular. I knew she didn't like this one. And neither did I.

The corset releases around my body, and I send Emma a knowing look. This was not the one. My hand finds its way over to the still tender spot, as I cringe feeling the pain that was subdued from the pressure of he corset.

"Okay, Mrs Balentra, this surely isn't your last dress, right?" Emma asks the old lady. She had come in from town into our home, after a vigorous amount of background checks and searches. With her she bought an abundance of wedding dresses, all of which I found none to be suitable. Too tight, too sparkly, too old fashioned, too modern, nothing was working, and at this point in time, I had convinced myself I'd be married in sweats. Isn't that every brides dream?

"I'm sorry Miss Emma, I brought in my best, but nothing is seeming to please the princess." Her voice was seasoned, and tired.

"I'm sorry to be such a pain, Mrs Balentra." I say, solemnly. She looked as though she thought she had failed me. And she hadn't, I was just too fussy. "I just can't seem to find the right one."

I sit down on my stool frustrated, as the tulle puffs around me then settles. I just couldn't imagine myself getting married in any of these dresses, I felt like I would be lying if I picked one of them. There was only one dress that hid my bullet wound, and the rest were all strapless and open shoulder. Something I couldn't have the luxury of.

I look around the room for a distraction. It was the same room George and I got changed in for my duplicate dancer. The same night Cole had crashed my engagement party 3 nights ago. The same night that gave me anxiety about everywhere I went in my own home, and everyone I spoke too. I hadn't felt this much anxiety in a long time. My father was stable but only getting worse with his condition, I had bad guys after me for who knows what reasons, a country to please, people to avoid and a guy I didn't love to marry.

"Could you give us a moment, Joan? Emma?" My grandmother asks Mrs Balentra and Emma, only she knows her personally and calls her by her given name.

I hear the door shut, as I stare at myself in the mirror, looking like a pale mess. My heart clenches as my mind wanders to the wedding day I don't want to happen. And I certainly did not want to look like this for George and all his guests.

I see my grandmother in the reflection behind me, then feel her hands place on my shoulder. She sits down beside me and embraces me with a hug.

"Why does it have to be like this?" I ask muffled by her clothing and florally scent.

"Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to, to help others." She says. "They're called sacrifices. And it's what we do."

I feel the start of tears brimming in my eyes. "It's all too much." I sob. "The wedding, Dad's illness, people threatening countries..."

"Cole?" My grandmother softly questions. A knot drew in my stomach. She knew his name? I draw back from her shoulder, the tears still rolling down. I don't need to ask for her to answer me. "Like I said, I like to know all about my family affairs."

She's holding my hands now, as I let it all out. "I just don't get it, grandma. He told me he has only been protecting me." I say.

"How do you know he hasn't?" She asks.