I hesitated only for a moment before stepping into the other room and slipping it on. The dress settled over me like it had been waiting, skimming my waist and falling cleanly over my hips. I smoothed my hands once down the skirt, then took a breath and turned back.
When I stepped into the main room again, Maren looked up.
She went very still.
I faced the mirror, taking myself in. The lamplight traced me differently than it ever had before. The line of my throat. The curve of my shoulders. I looked more like myself than I ever remembered.
Maren came up behind me, lifting my hair from my neck. “Hold still.”
Her fingers moved with easy familiarity, gathering my hair at the nape of my neck and twisting it into a loose, low bun. She left a few strands free, pale against my cheeks, softening the line of my face.
The touch didn’t make me tense. That realization landed deeper than the gesture itself. Once, I had been careful of every hand that reached for me. Somewhere along the way, Maren’s hands had become safe.
“He picked this,” she said lightly, as if discussing the weather.
My breath caught. “Atlas?”
“Mhm.” Her fingers stilled at the name of my neck as she secured the loose bun, checking it once with a practiced touch. “He’s been doing it since you arrived. Sending things up in small batches. Nothing showy. Things that felt… like they might suit you.”
I met her eyes in the mirror. “I didn’t notice.”
“That was the idea.” Maren’s mouth curved fondly. “He didn’t want you to feel watched. Or indebted. Just…settled.”
I looked at myself again, “it feels like mine,” I said quietly.
Maren met my eyes in the mirror, satisfied. “That’s because he wanted it to be.”
She reached for a cloak next, bypassing the heavier ones in favor of a lighter cut, dark lined with silver thread that caught when I moved. She settled it over my shoulders and adjusted it until it sat just right.
“Tonight isn’t about storms or courts,” she said. “It’s about letting yourself be seen without bracing for impact.”
Maren stepped back and studied me once more, then nodded to herself. “Perfect, don’t move.”
She disappeared into the adjoining room, the door closing softly behind her. I heard a faint whisper of fabric shifting, the quiet sounds of clothing being changed. When she returned a moment later, she was fastening an earring into place.
She wore a dress the color of late dusk, the fabric flashing briefly with a hidden sparkle whenever she moved. Her hair fell loose over her shoulders, a gentle curl catching the light. A soft wash of gold lined her eyes, nothing heavy, just enough to brighten them, and her lips bore a stain the color of crushed berries.
She caught me looking and paused.
“You look stunning,” I said.
Maren tilter her head, eyes flicking over me in return. “Please. You look like a goddess who wandered into a tavern by accident.”
Laughter drifted from the corridor. Joren, unmistakable. Fenix answering, bright with delight. The sound pressed close, warm and easy.
For a moment, I simply stood there, feeling the weight of the dress settle, the unfamiliar lightness in my chest. I wasn’t cataloging exits or listening for thunder.
I felt at ease in it.
A few minutes later, we made our way down to the main hall. It was alive when we stepped into it. Not loud, not formal, just full. It felt lived in, the way a place does when no one is trying to impress anyone else.
Joren was leaning against a column near the far wall, arms crossed, saying something under his breath to Fenix that made him snort. Calder and Kade stood nearby, shoulders angled toward one another as they talked, Calder laughing at something Kade said as he gestured with one hand.
Atlas stood a little to Joren’s side, easy in his posture, listening more than he spoke. He smiled at something Felix said,the expression unguarded, and I caught a detail that stopped me cold.
Dimples.
Small and faint, deepening at the corners of his mouth. His eyes softened with the smile, the lines at their edges easing, the weight he usually carried loosening as though he had set it down for a moment.
