I didn't rise and cook breakfast or fetch water. I lay in my slumber, frightened that if I left it, the truth of everything would hit me in the face. There, in my bed of hay and sheets, I could imagine I was preparing to meet my husband to be, but not be disappointed. I was excited because in my dreams he was a young man with a beautiful face and a gentle disposition. I heard the house waking above me with shouts and anger, but I didn't care. Abbi came flying into my room, “They’re in something of a mood, Ella. The dinner party did not go well at all. Time to get out of bed and start the day. I shall tell them you were fetching fruits for their breakfast.” I moaned, climbing from the warmth and protection of the sheets. Abbi wasn’t kidding, they were in a mood all right. The king had decided to throw a ball for his son, the heir prince. They had only learned of it the night before, during the party. It was to be this night—no warning for all the ladies to find suitable dresses and accessories.
