The air in the grand carriage was thick with the scent of velvet and the rhythmic clatter of hooves on cobblestones. Aphrodite, clad in a gown that shimmered like captured moonlight, gazed out at the blur of London's streets.

"These people, Lydia," she mused, turning to her companion, "why do they keep looking and waving at the carriage?"

Lydia, ever prim and proper, offered a slight smile. "Because they know it is you, Aphrodite."

A frown touched Aphrodite's lips. She cherished Lydia's presence; she was more than a lady-in-waiting, she was her only true friend. "Lydia, what have I told you?" she gently chided, reminding her to relax from her stiff posture.

Lydia shifted, her posture softening. "Are you not nervous, Aphrodite?" she asked, her gaze fixed on the children running alongside the carriage, trying to keep pace with the horses.

Aphrodite turned back to the window, a familiar thrill sparking within her. "Being nervous is a positive thing. I shall do my best tonight, as I always do. I shall sing from the deepest depths of my soul and make Master Abigor proud."

Lydia's smile widened. "You have the most wonderful voice I have ever heard in my life."

"Thank you, Lydia," Aphrodite replied softly, her thoughts already drifting to the melodies she would soon weave for the waiting crowd.