Chapter 2

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Author's note: Pardon my French. Quite literally.

Miss Alexandria did not take me to Queen Klara's room, but to a separate room in the palace with a few pieces of furniture pushed off to the side and several large windows for light. When I arrived, I saw Queen Klara conferring with an attractive woman who looked to be about in her thirties. The woman had pale skin, bright red lips, and a sharp blonde bob styled in an A-line cut. She wore a crisp white jumper paired with several silver necklaces and large hoop earrings. Behind her were two woman in dark clothing, which caused her to pop out more in her white.

"Elle est là!" The Queen exclaimed upon my arrival.

Oh great. More foreign languages.

"Come here, Miss Carmichael," Queen Klara said warmly, waving me over.

"Est-ce la jeune fille de la reine?" Blondie asked the queen. It sounded like French, and she sounded like she'd just stepped on a cockroach.

"Yes, this is her," the Queen answered in—thank the heavens!—English. "Cassie, this is Miss Chloé Dubois. She's from France, and is a very talented fashion designer. She is here in order to take your measurements for your dresses for the Autumn Festival. She and her team will be designing and creating your clothing."

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle Carmichael." Chloé Dubois's many bracelets jangled together as she lazily held out a dubious hand for me. I took her hand and shook it tentatively, her many rings grazing my palm. Chloé then quickly snatched her hand away and grabbed a pencil from behind her ear, her long red fingernails clattering at she did so. "Est-ce que vous parlez français?"

I sat there gaping like a fish. "Um..."

"Apparently not," Chloé said sharply in a thick French accent. She then snapped her fingers twice and her two assistants stepped forward. "Mesurez Mademoiselle Carmichael."

The two women whipped out measuring tape, and guided me to step onto a circular felt pedestal about a foot high. They then began wrapping the tape around me and calling out numbers to Chloé in French. She scrawled the numbers out on her clipboard, muttering something under her breath that I couldn't quite hear nor understand.

"I will be designing your dress and custom creating it to fit your body," Chloé told me before poking my stomach with the back of her pencil. "Try not to gain any more weight."

I grimaced.

"I have some matters to attend to," Queen Klara then announced. "Miss Carmichael, you are in excellent hands with Chloé."

I tried to beg with my eyes for the Queen to stay, but to my dismay she and Alexandria exited the room, leaving me alone with the haughty Chloé Dubios. She then gave some order to her assistants in French, and they crossed the room and returned with billowing bundles of various shades of silk. 

"We find a color that suits your complexion," Chloé started. "Hopefully an autumn color will work." 

The first color held to my cheek was a mustard yellow, and Chloé visibly cringed. "Á côté!" She cried with a snap, and the next color was held to my cheek—a tangerine orange.

"Peut-être," she said.

"What does that mean?" I ventured to ask.

Chloé rolled her eyes. "It means maybe. It is better than that yellow against your skin, but I do not love it."

More colors were tried against me until Chloé's eyes lit up at a scarlet silk roll. She nodded at her assistants, who in turn brought the roll to her. Chloé sauntered up to me and inspected the color against me more carefully.

"Mademoiselle," she said at last. "This is your color." She tossed the silk bundle back to one of her assistants and picked up her clipboard before taking a seat before me. "You will have three dresses," Chloé started. "You will have your luncheon dress, which is the one you will wear at the parade, then an evening dress, and, um—quel est le mot—your um, your dance dress."

"My ball gown?" I offered.

"Yes, that is the word. Your ball gown."

"Will they all be scarlet?" I asked.

"No. Your evening gown will be one of those greens I saw back there. It is a pretty color on you. But the red is...it is...." she made a circular motion with her hand, waiting for the word to come. "It is spectacular." 

"Oh, thank you!"

"Thank the color, Mademoiselle." Chloé didn't even look up from her paper. She was beginning to sketch something out, which I could only assume was a dress design. Her two assistants left, carrying several bundles of silk on their way out, leaving me alone with the French designer.

"Mademoiselle Carmichael," Chloé said after a moment.

"Yes?"

"Why are you the queen maiden?" Chloé finally broke attention from her sketching and look at me with a highly arched eyebrow.

"Well, because Queen Klara said so," I answered a little sheepishly.

Chloé blinked disapprovingly and returned to her sketching. "Was my English not good enough? Did you not understand my question? Then let me clarify. Why did Queen Klara choose you to be the queen maiden. You are a servant. It makes no sense."

"Um," I scratched my neck. "I honestly couldn't say why. I was too scared to ask her."

"Why were you scared?"

"Well, I worried if I asked her then she would realize that I was a ridiculous choice for queen maiden," I admitted.

"Oh, and you thought that she just chose you on a whim? That she just saw you walking down the hall and thought, why not?" Chloé scoffed. "Of course not, Mademoiselle.  Queen Klara had a reason."

"Did you ask her why I was chosen, then?"

"I am not here to ask the Queen those sort of questions. I am here to make dresses and make you pretty."

"Well do you have any theories or ideas as to why I was chosen?"

Chloé looked up once more with sharp eyes. "Perhaps."

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