Chapter 6: For the Price of Freedom

Chapter 6: For the Price of Freedom

Zara still couldn't quite process it. She was safe here, in a place so far removed from the horrors she'd survived that she almost felt like she was living someone else's life. Caelum had sent word that she'd be taken dress shopping for their wedding. Zara had barely slept the night before, her mind spinning with the idea of finally getting something for herself—a moment of comfort, a taste of indulgence. All she needed to do was see this contract through for five months, and her future would be hers to decide.

The carriage ride to the seamstress's atelier took her through bustling streets lined with stalls, grand buildings, and people—no, aliens—that looked just as extraordinary as Caelum. Though she was adjusting to the strange currency, she quickly grasped that the people here were wealthy beyond anything she could have imagined. Luxurious silks hung in shop windows, gemstones the size of her fist glittered from displays, and the air smelled faintly of incense and spices she couldn't name.

The seamstress's studio was like stepping into another world. Zara's breath caught at the sight of the high-vaulted ceilings adorned with intricate carvings of swirling patterns, bathed in soft light filtering through stained glass that scattered rainbow hues across the marble floor. Bolts of fabric lay stacked along the walls—velvets, silks, chiffons, each more extravagant than the last. Zara couldn't keep herself from reaching out, her fingers brushing against the richness of the cloth, marveling at the fineness of the textures beneath her hand.

As she moved further into the room, Caelum approached, his presence casting a shadow over her thoughts. He watched her, a quiet intensity in his gaze that made her spine tingle. "We don't have much time," he said, his tone businesslike but with a hint of something softer beneath it. "The ceremony needs to be soon—my parents aren't exactly known for their patience."

"Understood," Zara replied, lifting her chin slightly. She wasn't about to let him think she was nervous.

Caelum nodded, motioning toward the seamstress. "They've been instructed to make sure the dress is fitting for a queen," he added, his words lingering in the air, a reminder of the role she would soon play.

The seamstress, a petite alien with soft lavender skin and eyes that sparkled like opals, bustled toward them, her hands fluttering with excitement as she led Zara to a pedestal surrounded by mirrors. "Let's begin," she chirped, and her voice was gentle yet assertive.

As the seamstress and her assistants began draping fabrics over her shoulders, Zara felt herself relaxing, savoring this rare moment of luxury. She'd spent so long in survival mode that she'd almost forgotten what it felt like to indulge, to be pampered—even if it was all part of the arrangement.

The first gown they placed on her was a vision in cream, embroidered with delicate patterns that glimmered in the light. The fabric hugged her curves, cinching at her waist before flowing out into a soft, ethereal skirt. She turned, examining herself in the mirror, and for a moment, she barely recognized herself. The girl staring back looked regal, almost otherworldly.

"This one is stunning," she murmured, not quite able to keep the awe out of her voice.

"Stunning, yes, but not quite right for the occasion," Caelum said, crossing his arms as he assessed her. She shot him a look, arching an eyebrow. He held her gaze, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth, before nodding to the seamstress to bring another gown.

The second gown was a striking shade of deep green, shimmering with threads of gold woven into the fabric like the veins of a leaf. It felt heavier, almost protective in a way, as if the weight of the gown could shield her from the world. Zara admired the craftsmanship, noting how the gold shimmered as she moved, giving her the air of a forest goddess from some ancient myth. Still, something about it felt off; it was too elaborate, too rooted in a world she didn't belong to.

And then, finally, they brought out the third gown—a breathtaking creation of pale silver, so fine and delicate that it looked like moonlight woven into cloth. The bodice was intricately detailed with shimmering threads, and soft layers of translucent fabric cascaded around her legs, pooling at her feet in a silken wave. The design was deceptively simple, but as she moved, the fabric seemed to shift and catch the light, casting a soft glow that made her look almost ethereal.

This one felt right. Zara found herself standing a little taller, her chin lifting with newfound confidence as she took in her reflection. She couldn't help but smile, a genuine, unguarded smile that caught Caelum's attention.

"Yes," he said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "That one suits you."

There was something about his tone that made her look away quickly, feeling a warmth rise in her cheeks. She reminded herself that this was all temporary, a means to an end, but as she studied her reflection, a small part of her wished, for just a moment, that it could be real.

The seamstress adjusted the gown, her hands deft and precise, and Zara let herself be swept up in the moment, savoring the unfamiliar luxury. When the final alterations were made, Zara took a deep breath, grounding herself. She was ready. She'd played countless roles in her life, but this one—the part of a queen—might be her most convincing yet.

The seamstress's assistants brought forth a silver diadem adorned with stones that matched the gown's silvery hue. As they placed it on her head, Zara looked at herself one final time. There, in the mirror, stood a stranger—a woman who had survived hell, who had clawed her way through despair to find herself here, standing on the precipice of a new life.

But this wasn't real. This was a performance, a charade, and she couldn't forget that. She couldn't afford to get attached to anything or anyone. She would see this contract through, claim her reward, and then slip away into the world, free and unfettered.

As the seamstress and her assistants began to clear away the other dresses, Caelum approached her, his gaze lingering on her reflection in the mirror. "It suits you," he said, his voice laced with a hint of approval, as if he were acknowledging not just the gown, but the person she'd become.

Zara met his gaze, a flicker of defiance in her eyes. "This is just a role, remember? Nothing more." She allowed herself a small, knowing smile, and for a moment, she thought she saw something shift in Caelum's expression—an almost imperceptible change, like a crack in his carefully composed exterior.

"Of course," he replied smoothly, his mask firmly back in place. "But while you're here, you might as well look the part."

With a final nod to the seamstress, Caelum turned, motioning for her to follow him. The driver was waiting outside, ready to take them back to the palace, and Zara knew that the real test was yet to come.