“I’m still not following.”
“Very few women are wealthy enough or have the status to ever look like this. We have laws that prevent members of different classes to wear certain clothing, jewelry, hair styles, etc. If you wear this, you’ll be meeting them as if you were of the same class as they are, not as their employee. It will cause a stir. But as a human, you are outside societal laws, if you see what I mean?”
“Sovereign Lorian must know what I’m doing,” I say. But I know that doesn’t really matter. I know Lorian well enough to know he doesn’t put much stock in rules. It’s Rafe who will be most affected by this. He’s always been very particular about following rules. “I can’t think about them now,” I tell Lira. “Dothatlook. The wife look. I can’t fail now.”
The application process is mesmerizing. Microscopic brushes apply pigments that sink into my skin at the molecular level. No smudging, no fading, notouch-ups needed. My eyes become smoky mysteries with hints of gold that catch the light. Sister Agnes would say I look like a whore.
It’s perfect.
"The nanopigments will last twelve hours," Lira says. "They will respond to your body chemistry, meaning they will flush when you're aroused, pale when you're angry, shimmer when you're confident… you get it. It's like wearing your emotions as art."
"What about my hair?" I ask. “If I’m going in, I’m going all the way. What can we do with it?"
"Everything." She activates another system. "Temporary molecular restructuring. We can change texture, add volume, even shift the color slightly without damage, and that still would be within Spire guidelines."
We settle on waves that look effortlessly tousled but are actually precisely arranged to frame my face.
"Holy shit," I breathe when she's finished. The woman in the mirror isa stranger. She’s powerful, but most importantly, she's the kind of woman that doesn't get ignored.
"The dress will be ready in an hour," Lira says. "The printer needs time for the gravitational weave to stabilize. Practice walking in these." She produces a pair of heels that seem to defy physics, with straps that wind up my calves like serpents.
"I'll break my neck."
"No you won’t. There are gyroscopic stabilizers in the heels. You could run in these if you had to."
I practice walking in the shoes while we wait, learning how they adjust to my movements. They're surprisingly comfortable once I trust the technology.
When the printer chimes its completion, Lira helps me into the dress. The fabric feels alive against my skin, adjusting to my body temperature and clinging to my curves in all the right places.
"One more thing," Lira says like my fairy godmother, producing a small vial. "Pheromone enhancer. Use this just a touch at your pulse points. It's designed to be subtle, not enough to be consciously noticed, but enough to make you... memorable."
I take the vial but don’t apply it yet. I’ve gotten so many vials lately; I hope I don’t mix them up.
"Tribune Jin Kol won't know what hit him," Lira says with satisfaction. "Neither will the Sovereigns, for that matter."
That gives me pause, but I don’t say anything, just open the vial of pheromones.
"Wait, before you do that; let's test it.” She waves over a passing maintenance worker. "Excuse me, could you help us for a moment?"
He approaches, looking confused.
Lira dabs the tiniest amount on her wrist and holds it up. "What do you think of this scent?"
The change is instantaneous. His pupils dilate, his breathing shifts, and he sways slightly toward her. "I... that's... great. You smell wonderful." He blinks hard.
"Thank you," Lira says sweetly. "You can go now."
He stumbles away, looking back twice with unfocused eyes, not wanting to leave.
“Good enough,” I say, and take the vial and put it on my skin.
“Oh, that might be too much,” Lira says, watching me. “But it’s too late now. Good luck.”
As I walk through the corridors, I notice an immediate difference. Staff members do double-takes, security guards straighten, and even guests pause to watch me pass.
By the time I reach the Celestial Ballroom, I've found my stride. The dress moves like liquid shadow, revealing and concealing with each step. The shoes give me height and presence, and the makeup makes me look like I'm an important galactic woman.
I pause at the entrance to the Ballroom, knowing that once I step through those doors, there's no going back. I'm not just representing myself anymore. I'm representing every human who has been chained in this galactic system.
