“Well, I didn’t use thoseexactwords, but now that you mention it… they’re pretty accurate.”
I laugh despite myself, shaking my head.
“And yet, here you are, championing black.”
Her grin widens.
“Call it character growth. Besides, if anyone can make black work, it’s you. Brooding gargoyle chic is all the rage this season.”
Sera hums as she unfastens the laces on my gown. She always hums when she's nervous, though she'd never admit it. I remember the first time she entered my chambers—barely sixteen, all elbows and attitude. Clyde brought Sera to the castle under the guise of gifting me a handmaiden, as if that might somehow mend whatever he believed had fractured when Jason left.
They assigned her to me—a pretty noble girl from the Riverlands who bragged she’d once fought off another drunk lord with nothing but a candlestick. I liked her instantly. And in the end, he gave me something else entirely—the only friend I have ever known.
I roll my eyes.
“Right. I’ll just perch on the castle roof while I’m at it.”
“Perfect,” she quips, her tone dry but amused. “Add some thunder and lightning, and you’ll have the whole court swooning.”
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me, though I try to stifle it. “Fine.”
I step into the gown, Sera continuing to offer suggestions and commentary as I adjust the fabric into place. She describes how the neckline should sit, how the gown will draw just the right attention. It’s as if her excitement spills into the air, brushing against me even from a distance—too bright, too eager, like a veil thrown over the trembling underneath.
The gown fits perfectly, its soft layers brushing against my skin. Sera circles around me like an artist appraising her work, her eyes narrowed in ardent focus. She kneels briefly, smoothing the hem, then steps back, tilting her head.
“Now, sit,” she commands, gesturing to the stool in front of the vanity. “Your hair is the final touch.”
I sigh but sink into the seat, watching her through the mirror.
“You act like I’m your masterpiece.”
“You are,” she replies, unraveling my braid between her fingers. “Besides, you’d just pull it back and call it a day. Someone has to make sure you don’t look like you’ve crawled out of a library.”
“I like libraries,” I counter, raising a brow at her reflection. “Books don’t judge me.”
“True,” Sera quips, twisting a section of my hair with ease. “But books also don’t gasp in awe when you walk into a room.”
I huff out a laugh, trying to keep my head still as she works. Her fingers move quickly, weaving intricate patterns that sweep the hair at my crown into elegant braids. Loose waves tumble down my back, softening the complexity of the style.
“There,” she announces, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “Gorgeous and intimidating. Just how I like you.”
I glance at my reflection, tilting my head to the side.
“I have to admit, you’ve outdone yourself.”
Sera beams, plucking a jar of rouge from the vanity.
“Of course I have. Now hold still.”
She dabs a swipe of deep red onto my lips, leaning in to perfect the edges with her fingertip. The bold color contrasts against my pale complexion, commanding attention. She turns next to the jewelry box, her hand hovering over several options before plucking out a pair of diamond drop earrings.
“These will do,” she says, holding them up for my approval.
I give her a faint nod, letting her fasten them in place. She adds the final touch—a long diamond necklace that drapes backward, its brilliance catching the light as it cascades down my spine.
“Perfect,” she declares, stepping back with an air of triumph. Her grin widens as she crosses her arms, her satisfaction written all over her face. “You’re ready to steal the breath from every soul in that room.”
I stand, turning slowly in front of the mirror. For a fleetingmoment, I barely recognize the woman staring back at me. There’s a quiet power in her, an elegance that feels both foreign and familiar. Discomfort creeps up my spine, but I push it aside.
