The mid-morning sun shone over the rolling green hills and in with a flood of radiance, gently stirring the window curtains to and fro. Sabreen stared out the window and onto the winding street, trying not to sigh. 

The only thing mattering to her father now was to find her a husband. He ought to have found her one during the past three years, after all, she was of age to marry. But with the distressed state of the country, and Sabreen's personal grievance, the household was sent into mourning and out of the social whirl. Neither did Sabreen's profound distaste to become a debutante make it any easier to find her a suitable gentleman.

Instead, Kamillah was their only hope. Still only seventeen and as beautiful as any young lady ever to draw breath, she was the one Sabreen gave all her attention to. After all, there didn't appear to be terribly many eligible gentlemen fighting for the privilege of claiming Sabreen's hand. It was disheartening. She might never become a bride or a loving mother, but she would at least be kept from starvation. At this point, it was all she could hope for. 

Though, it seemed as though luck had been on Sabreen's side when the news of the grand festival had spread all over the country. How pleasant her mood had become for the following days! Envisioning an aesthetically pleasing image of the festivities, she felt thrilled to paint again after the long period of tedious waiting for her spark to come back to life. 

Sabreen's style had slowly evolved into a muted and though quite lovely and contemplative one, she'd adroitly avoid sentimentalism while working on her easel-painting scales. Regardless of whatever she wished to paint depending on her mood, no one could deny that she was a talented young woman indeed. After all, her art was all that could take pride in. Unlike her sister, Sabreen was not spectacularly beautiful nor outstandingly intelligent. She was just herself, with her art being the only thing able to light up in her chest and propel her to just create without fear of judgement. 

Despite her father's rebuke against her paintings, she still felt the need to attend as an artist, and not as a debutante. But what good would that do? It was bad enough to be nearing the age of twenty years and still flouncing about at parties and balls in hopes of finding a husband. She cringed at what her father must be thinking—a fete filled with eligible gentlemen with distinguished careers of service. That thought finally did produce a sigh. Sabreen turned away from the uninspiring prospect out the window. 

After stopping off in the brewing room to speak with Mrs. Lamya, the housekeeper, Sabreen went in search of her sister. She found Kamillah in the library, curled up in their mother's chair with a book. Sabreen should have certainly scolded her, but she couldn't help but smile.

"So is it within the pages of that book that you have found yourself a gown?" Sabreen gently teased, catching her sister off-guard. 

"Oh! Sabreen, sorry, I was just... I was putting things away in here and just had to open this one for a moment," her sister said, her cheeks flaming with a hearty pink blush beneath her alabaster skin.

"It's all right," Sabreen said, laughing as she sat down across from Kamillah. "But if your gown is to be ready for this evening, I must finish it by midday so I can see how much ribbon it will require."

"I don't see why we should spend money on ribbon at all," Kamillah said, looking down. "It's not as though men even care about such things."

"Perhaps not," Sabreen conceded thoughtfully, "but women care a great deal about it. You want a woman to recommend you to her son or her brother, do you not?"

Kamillah only shrugged, still looking down. Sabreen reached over and patted her sister's hand.

"Kamillah, are you anxious about this?"

"No," Kamillah answered. "But I feel no need to take any attention from you–or take any money for ribbons and fabric to make gowns–at these events. They are truly for you to find a match of your own."

"You mustn't feel that way! I'm glad to have your company at these grand events, no matter how they may turn out for us," Sabreen replied with a bit more happiness than she truly felt. "Come, we'll finish sewing your gown and think of how to do up your hair. It'll be great fun, you'll see."