Eleanor scrunched up her nose. “I don’t think I would ever wear anything like that.”
Freya adjusted her robe’s collar. It was almost as ornate as the princesses. While similar in shape, they were just a bit less detailed. However, the overcoat was the stark red of the Terran Imperial House.
An elegant and intentionally imposing presentation.
For the Rhimodians.
The sea of red.
Hopefully, they weren’t symbolic people and didn’t see more to the color than it is the Emperor’s favorite shade.
“You’re overdressed,” Veta said. “It is war. Our two people have been fighting forever.”
Caoimhe ran her hand over the front of her dress again, her posture rigidly straight, hers was the only one that was not the same red—it was white, the embroidery red. Isolating her from the rest, but also making sure all eyes were on her.
It was incredible to Veta the work that went into deciding an outfit for an event. Veta kept her wardrobe as simple as possible. Whatever was needed for the task at hand. Most of the time, it was her military bodysuit. She had it in several shades of grays, browns, and black. Currently? She wore dark gray. Neutral and would blend into any background.
Well, except maybe a white one. Like this ship that almost glowed in its white and shiny white trim.
The princesses, however, had wardrobes large enough to dress a small Terran city. Veta used to think, when she first met the sisters, that they were vain. But over the years, she’d learned it wasn’t vanity.
It was about perception—other people’s opinions of them that ruled their wardrobes. And the importance of always being perfect. Veta guessed it was part of their education as Terran Royalty.
While in private, they tended to wear common clothing—simple tunics or long plain dresses—they wouldn’t wear the bodysuit that Veta favored.
To each their own.
Caoimhe adjusted the way a sleeve hit her wrist, then stood even straighter than before, and glanced at Veta. “I will not disrespect the Rhimodians or this treaty by arriving in less than my best. It is my sign of respect for them that I put such care into my appearance, for it means I care to be here, Veta.”
“I doubt they’d appreciate it.”
“It matters not. I am here because I want to be.” This time she did turn her head. “Are you?”
Veta nodded. “I am.”
“Good.” She glanced around a bit. “Diado, if you would please,” she said.
The servant came back, carrying a jewelry box he opened for Caoimhe.
Veta tried not to roll her eyes.
Diado removed the necklace, with its strange wide frame of jewels and placed it around her neck. Bianca gasped as the necklace shined in the light, twinkling with an inordinately large number of stones.
Sure, it was pretty, but it wasn’t anything so worthy of attention, Veta didn’t think.
Just another ornate piece to make her look even wealthier. As if it wasn’t evident at this point. There was a window to the outside, Veta saw a glimpse of the escort fighters.
That was her world.
Not this one. Not this world of jewels and sparkles and embroidered robes.
“That will be all, Diado,” Caoimhe said.
He backed out of the room.
Freya started to speak, and Caoimhe made a gesture, stopping the Lady in Waiting mid breath.
Not until the door sealed, did anyone speak.
