I settled myself with a breath. “Win what?”
“I bet you’d choose the trousers. Callen bet you’d choose the dress, though I can’t imagine why.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re practical.” He lifted the crown in his hands and placed it atop my head. Focus etched his features as he fiddled with its placement and murmured, “And since you would look beautiful in either option, it makes the most sense for you to choose this one.”
My cheeks warmed. “Easier to fight in. Why the headpiece?”
“It’s a formal event in front of the largest audience we host.” He finished tinkering and drew away, scrutinizing the crown. “Felda, it doesn’t look right with the hairstyle.”
The old woman bumbled over. “My hairstyle isn’t the problem. The angle’s wrong. It needs to sit further back in the braids.” She lifted onto her toes to shift the metal.
“My angle wasn’t wrong,” he argued.
“Sothat’syour weakness,” I said. For someone so confident to be knocked down a peg by hairstyles and crown placement was…well, it should have been laughable. But something within me softened instead.
His eyebrows slanted. “It isn’t a weakness.”
“Your Terrifying-ness is humbled by braids and tiaras.”
Felda chuckled as she worked. Frannie looked like she was waiting for disaster.
“As someone who wears braids andcrowns, that is a lie,” he defended.
“It’s okay. All humans have weaknesses, Harthon,” I teased, widening my eyes in mock pity. “At least this is one that other Princepes can’t use against you.”
“If it can’t be used against me, it’s a trait, not a weakness. Though I’ll admit it’s good to be humbled every once in a long while.” He dipped his chin. “It seems the Ladymagvisis in need of some herself.”
The dark note in his tone did the opposite of amuse me. Instead, its implication set embers smoldering low in my stomach. From the slight tilt of his mouth, it’d been intentional.
Skies.One conversation with Callen and my body had taken it as permission tofeelagain, to forget any reasons why I shouldn’t.
“There,” Felda said, her hands moving to my shoulders, turning me to face the mirror. The woven crown nested delicately in the braids.
“It’s too much.” Before, I looked like a powerful woman. Now, I looked like a stranger, an imposter.
I didn’t wear gold upon my head. That was taking the ruse of who I was too far.
“It’s not,” Harthon said, watching me in the mirror.
“I have the eyes and the nice clothes. I don’t need a crown.”
“A crown isn’t merely about appearances. As I’ve told you before, it’s also a weapon. A powerful one.”
He didn’t mean literally. There were no spiked tips on my crown like there were on his.
An excuse ran to my tongue, something about how this wasn’t my weapon to wield. But as I stared at the image in the mirror, I decided that maybe it could be.
Domus knew I needed as many weapons as possible.
* * *
“Callen told you what to expect, yes?” Harthon asked as he led me to a foreign part of the Citadel.
I nodded. Feasting, drinking, dancing, and the like with cabinet members, soldiers, and various wealthy and common citizens who’d been invited by lottery.
He stopped me before a set of guarded double doors with a light hand on my arm. The hum of hundreds of voices permeated the wood.
