Chapter 3: The Capitals

Enisa's POV

I stood quivering under the weight of the shopping bags. My face, struggling to get out of the suffocating smell of new clothes.

Watching with relish as Iris glided along the rows of fabric, gathering dresses as though drawn by an unspoken purpose, I sighed tiredly, my feet aching from standing too long.

My gaze flickered over the mannequins, perfect, lifeless models of elegance draped in exquisite dresses.

“It is very beautiful, Iris. It suits you well; take it.”

I will hear Vedica say whenever Iris emerges from the dressing room shrouded in new clothes.

She hardly ever looked at her before offering her verdict.

I found myself rolling my eyes far more often than was dignified. None of the dresses suited her, not truly, but Vedica, thoroughly consumed by the thrill of choosing, seemed content to approve of anything that passed before her. Iris, in turn, required no real persuasion.

It was less a fitting and more a ritual: she would emerge, Vedica would praise, and another dress would be claimed.

Between the mannequins standing in silent elegance and the racks sagging under the weight of bundles of meticulous outfits, they moved with impressive efficiency, picking out dresses.

It appeared they lacked the word 'choice,' because no matter what they tried on, whether it fit or not, it went into the shopping bag, and I bore the cross of their incompetence.

Decisively, I remained where I was, a quiet observer to their indulgence; I was completely ignored and might as well have been another mannequin.

After hours of standing, with my shoulders dropped and last restraint hanging in the air, I let out a yawn, and my eyes inadvertently darted towards the extreme end of the clothes section.

My gaze caught on something, and for a fleeting moment, my breath stilled, caught in quiet admiration.

It was a dress, draped loosely upon a mannequin, as though it had been displayed there for fancy rather than to be sold.

My eyes flicked briefly in Iris's direction. She remained absorbed in her own little world, blissfully unaware of the dress…of me, and so was my stepmother.

With a small, decisive motion, I set the shopping bags aside and turned back. Something about the gown held me, not insistently, but with a quiet, undeniable pull.

I moved toward it almost absently, my gaze fixed, as though breaking it would shatter whatever spell had taken hold.

Up close, it was even more striking. Silk, soft beneath my fingers, threaded with delicate diamond embellishments that caught the light with restrained brilliance.

Unmistakably costly in the way truly fine things often are.

I stood there for a moment longer than necessary, my mind battling with my heart; at last, I chose my heart.

Taking the dress down, I slipped into the dressing room tucked in the corner to try the dress on.

It took a while to figure out the dress; on the mannequins, it looked pretty simple.

When I stepped out, my gaze flickered to the huge mirror glued to the wall.

A small group of girls passing by slowed, their conversation faltering as their attention shifted.

“Wow… It's beautiful,” one murmured, her gaze lingering.

“I want one too. Is it custom-made? It fits her perfectly,” another added, half in disbelief.

They drifted away still speaking of the dress, their voices fading into the general hum of the room.

A faint smile touched my lips as I gaze at my reflection in the mirror. My taste, at least, had not abandoned me.

Of course, it shouldn’t have. I was royalty.

Or I had been.

Opportunities like this were rare, so I stood taking in every feature of my body.

My figure had grown slimmer, more defined, the lines of my body lending the dress an almost tailored precision.

My complexion remained clear, my features composed, my jawline sharp, my dark blue eyes framed by long lashes, and my lips still carrying their natural flush.

Satisfied with my looks, I turned away then made my way back to the dressing room.

As gently as I had put it on, I took it off, peeling it away from my skin as though it were a ticking time bomb.

Of course it was; I couldn't afford it, and Iris and my stepmother wouldn't let me have it.

So if anything, even the slightest tear occurred, Vedica would gladly sell me to the manager of the shopping mall, and I would have to work my ass off for the rest of my life paying for a dress.

When I stepped out, I paused only briefly before the mannequin, allowing myself one last glance at the dress before placing it back where it belonged.

I was still transfixed at the spot, refusing to move.

In normal circumstances I should be able to afford this dress, but here I was just gawking at it. The moon goddess must hate me so much.

"Do you like it?

A deep voice invaded my thoughts, and almost immediately, I bounced back to reality.

All of a sudden, I could perceive an overwhelming cologne, so strong my nostrils could hardly take it all in.

The presence alone seems to shift the rooms, and I was forced to turn around:

My gaze settled on a man; our eyes locked, and I found myself unable to blink.

Dark curly hair framed his face, resting above strong brows and his eyes.

There was a quiet precision to him, from the set of his jaw to the ease of his posture. Even his lips, carved to perfection—good lord, did this one fall from heaven?

“Are you alright?”

His voice drew me back, low and composed, laced with something almost curious.

I realized, belatedly, that I had been staring, drooling like a complete fool.

I parted my lips to respond, but no words came. For reasons I could not explain, my voice seemed to have deserted me entirely.

“Do you like the dress?” he asked, his gaze steady, unwavering.

I felt a strange pull, as though his presence alone had narrowed the world to a single point of focus.

It was unsettling how easily he commanded my attention, how naturally he held it. I could not recall the last time a stranger had affected me so completely.

“Yes, yes,” I managed to say, my voice quieter than intended. “I do.”

I kept my eyes averted, unwilling to meet his again, certain I would not recover myself if I did. Taking a small step back, I attempted to steady my composure, though the awareness of his closure was disarming in its own way.

His gaze shifted briefly to the dress before returning to me. Then, without comment, he turned to the rack and sifted through the dresses with a discerning eye.

A moment later, he selected another dress, identical in design to the one on the mannequin, but this time in a blue shade.

“This would suit you better,” he said, holding it out with certainty. “It complements your eyes.”

For a second, I could only look at him. The remark, simple as it was, struck deeper than it ought to have.

“Come with me,” he added, already turning away.

There was no insistence in his tone, yet I found myself following nonetheless.

We arrived at the counter. The attendants, who only moments before had been occupied, now seemed inexplicably attentive.

And I could tell why; she was ogling at him. Those lustful lashes batting were not without intent, and it made me disgusted.

He handed over the dress to the attendant, and I watched momentarily at a loss as he swiped his card, paying for the dress.

No one had ever done something like that for me, not without expectation, not without condition.

“Here's your dress, ma'am.”

The attendant's voice drew me in, and my shaking hands reached out to the fancy shopping bag containing the dress…my dress.

Filled with unexplainable gratitude, I turned to thank him, but just like that… he was gone.

I scanned the room, my gaze searching with a quiet urgency, but there was no trace of him, no lingering presence, no indication he had ever been there at all.

“But… he was just here…”

The thought barely formed before another voice reached my ears.

“Enisa!”

My stepmother’s voice cut sharply through the air.

I stilled, then suddenly I regained myself.

My feet, as though moving on their own accord, trudged along the pathway leading to the clothing section where Iris and her mother were fanning over more clothes.

I blinked when I saw the varieties of shoes they had picked out just while I was a few minutes away.

They were so absorbed that they didn't know when I reached there; smartly, I added the shopping bag containing the dress the stranger had just bought for me to the ones belonging to Iris.

In that fleeting moment, Vedica turned, and her gaze inadvertently rested on me.

“You, are you deaf, girl?”

She said, her hands feeling the texture of a gown whose beauty I could admit was otherworldly.

“Didn't you hear me when I called?”

She continued, her eyes dropping to the dress.

“I did; I was in the restroom.”

I lied without thinking straight, and her gaze snapped upward, scanning me suspiciously.

“And how did you find your way around the mall? It's an enormous place; you have never been here before."

I opened my mouth to say something, and just then Iris interrupted.

“Mother, why do you concern yourself with her well-being? Would it not be a good thing if she misses her way and gets lost, then I would never have to see her ugly face again."

I wore a straight face at Iris' words, refusing to let any emotion surface.

“You are here to help with the shopping bags; do your job.”

Vedica continued looking away.

“Now take those shopping bags to the car; we have paid for the purchase.”

She added, and my eyes slide to the corner where the shopping bags were arranged in a straight line, as though to appreciate the beauty of the bags.

The number of bags I saw made my knees weak.

“Shall I send one of my assistants to help you, miss?”

A tall fair woman stepped in; she had been the one showing Iris and her mother around, desperate to empty their pockets by allowing them to buy everything they laid eyes upon.

I was, for one, glad she offered to help, but right at that moment, Iris interfered.

"Oh, that won't be necessary; our servant girl here can handle it.”

My eyes twitched at her words.

Servant girl?