“Yes.” Camille turned to her apprentice. “Next.”
Gold button-seams along the bodice weren’t seams at all. They concealed a slim throwing blade tucked against Penelope’s ribs.
Penelope swallowed. “Camille, is this normal?”
“For prey? No. For bait?” Camille met her eyes. “Absolutely.”
Her voice softened—barely. “You walk into danger tonight, girl. You will walk in beautiful, but never helpless.”
Penelope’s breath trembled.
“Hair,” Camille commanded.
The assistants moved in, weaving soft curls into an elegant twist secured with gilded leaf combs.
Penelope frowned. “Are these… weapons too?”
“Wards,” Camille said. “If someone grabs you by the hair with malicious intent, the combs will emit a flare. Painful. To them.”
Penelope almost smiled. “Fashion with teeth.”
“Everything worth wearing should have teeth.”
Camille straightened Penelope, adjusted one final fold, and stepped back.
“Look.”
Penelope turned toward the mirror. She barely recognized the woman staring back. Not prey, not a refugee from a massacre, not a girl surviving on instinct, but someone stepping into power. Someone dangerous. Someone becoming.
Camille touched Penelope’s cheek briefly, a rare, startling gesture of warmth. “Whatever fate thinks it’s doing with you, my dear, you fight back.”
Penelope whispered, “Thank you.”
Camille flicked her wrist toward the door. “Go on. They’re waiting.”
Penelope drew a breath, gathered her resolve, and opened the chamber door.
Chapter 23
The corridor outside was dimly lit by the Ossuaire’s ward-lamps. Guardians stood at attention, three of them, fully glamoured, ready for the escort.
Mingxi stood at the center. He had been reviewing sigil-route projections with Rowan when the door opened. The motion made him turn, and his world simply stopped.
For the smallest fraction of a moment, Mingxi forgot to breathe.
Penelope stepped into the ward-light, the emerald gown catching every flicker of magic, framing her in shadows and gold. Her posture was perfect, her expression calm, and her presence unmistakable.
She was a force.
Mingxi narrowed his eyes, just barely, just enough that someone who knew him well would recognize it as shock. Or awe.
He recovered quickly, bowing his head. “Lady Penelope. Your carriage awaits.”
She noted that his voice was different, lower, steadier, carrying something that hadn’t been there before. Penelope’s heart hammered once, hard, traitorous.
Rowan cleared his throat loudly. “Shall we proceed?”
Mingxi extended his arm for her, and Penelope placed her hand atop it with regal calm. She did not miss the quiet inhale he took when her fingers brushed his sleeve.
