Aloud, sharp, and unsettling thud vibrated through the floor, catching me off guard.
“Time,” the steward’s voice called. “The banquet has begun.”
The maids stepped back in practiced unison. The one behind me placed a final pearl pin at the nape of my neck and whispered, “There. Perfect.”
The mirror girl didn’t smile.
Jasira stood motionless in the hallway. The tension in her shoulders sagged, and her face fell into a grim mask of disappointment the moment her eyes met mine.
“You look—” she tried.
“Don’t,” I mumbled.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I should’ve stayed and fought harder.”
I shook my head and took her arm.
“Get me through the door, please,” I said. “And promise not to let me fall.”
She offered a tight, fierce smile. “If anyone makes you fall, I’ll toss them into the sea.”
Jasira walked at my side in a fitted uniform of Caerthaine. A blue tunic, crisp and belted with silver thread that caught the candlelight when she moved. It looked wrong on her. She was a woman made for wild colors, for motion and laughter, not the stiff hush of this palace.
Every step taken in those ill-fitting shoes pressed the weight of unwanted choices upon me. A prickling irritation crawled across my skin, saturated with foreign scents and oils. Meanwhile, an inexplicable tightness squeezed at my throat.
I wasn’t dressed for a celebration.
I was dressed to surrender.
Court musicians tuning strings and nobles glittering like coins filled the halls outside. Perfumed air stung my nose. Laughter clinked like crystal.
I walked in silence, surrounded by too many eyes.
And then the Grand Hall opened around me like a gaping mouth.
Slate-gray silk covered every window. Smoky crystal chandeliers caught what little light there was above and broke it into fractured, colorless shine.
Kaelen waited at the head table, already seated, already smiling.
He stood as I approached and took my hand, like we were dancers in a play neither of us wanted to rehearse.
“Radiant,” he murmured in my ear.
I said nothing as we sat.
His fingers remained laced through mine as the hall filled with people, tables groaned under the weight of food, and conversation bloomed around us like vibrant, yet fragile, glass roses.
The noblemen here didn't engage with me directly. Instead, they asked questions about me, but loud enough for me to hear, which only made me feel on display even more.
I wanted to peel myself out of my skin. Slip away and dissolve into the marble beneath my feet.
Across the hall, I saw Erindor standing at the wall, straight-backed in his dark guard uniform. His expression carved into stone. But I knew him too well. I saw the tension in his shoulders. The way his eyes flicked every time Kaelen leaned too close.
He was watching. Always.
Jasira was seated among the court attendants, back straight. Her eyes burned toward Kaelen, but she held her tongue.
Alaric, two seats down, toyed with his wineglass and looked like he was debating which noble to provoke first. Dorian, however, was the one already speaking, laughing too loudly at some joke told by a man with too many rings and not enough neck.
