Chapter fifteen
Katria
“Up,” Maeryn said softly, stepping inside my chambers with her usual grace. Her hair was bound tight, a single braid streaked with frostlight ribbon. She always looked composed, like she’d been carved from the same cold the palace was built from.
I sat up, rubbing sleep from my eyes. “You’re early.”
“It’s late for a morning the Court has demanded.” Her tone carried no reproach, only a matter-of-fact air.
Behind her, two attendants wheeled in a silver rack hung with fabrics that glimmered faintly, the colors shifting with the frostlight.
“Those can’t be comfortable,” I said.
“They’re not meant to be,” Maeryn replied. “They’re meant to keep you still.”
I blinked. “Still?”
“Movement draws attention. Attention draws speculation. Best to appear unremarkable.”
Her logic was so flawless it almost sounded kind.Almost.
The attendants set the rack beside the frost mirror and left without a word. Silence followed, soft and weighty. Even the airhere felt trained.
Maeryn began selecting fabrics—pale silver, muted blue, a single thread of black at the hem. “Winter favors precision. Color speaks louder than voice. Too much warmth and they’ll take it as defiance.”
I couldn’t help myself. “What about too little?”
Her lips curved slightly. “They’ll think you’re mocking them.”
It wasn’t a joke, but it almost sounded like one.
She helped me stand, her hands cool but steady. As she tightened the corseted bodice, I asked, “Do all of you dress like this?”
“Only those the Court wishes to see.”
“And the others?”
“They serve unseen.”
The words lingered longer than they should have.
Maeryn guided me to the mirror. I hardly recognized the reflection staring back—the same blonde hair pinned in an intricate coil, silver circlet resting against my temple, a faint shimmer of frostlight tracing the edges of the fabric. I looked ... quieter. Contained. Aside from the spill of my breasts hoisted up by this insufferable corset.
Maeryn adjusted the circlet, her expression unreadable. “There. The frostlight in this will steady your pulse. It helps when the Court looks too closely.”
“Because that happens often?”
Her gaze flicked to mine in the mirror. “When something new walks among old things, they look very closely indeed.”
Something in her tone made me still. Not a threat, a warning wrapped in empathy.
I nodded, though my stomach tightened. “You talk about them like you’re not one of them.”
Maeryn smiled faintly. “Perhaps I’ve lived here long enough to know better.”
She stepped back, studying me as though ensuring I wouldn’t crumble. “When you stand before them, don’t meet the Frostfather’s gaze unless he speaks to you. Keep your hands visible. Speak clearly, but never quickly.”
“Anything else?”
