The soft rasp of bristles against strands filled the quiet as I dragged the comb through my hair. Then Cerridwen appeared in the doorway.
She was a vision of dark elegance. The gown she wore was a creation of tailored black crepe, the fabric drinking inevery shadow. Structured shoulder pads framed the silhouette of the neckline and flowed seamlessly into the column of the dress, which hugged her form. Floor-length sleeves, split at the forearms, cascaded like an inky waterfall.
“I was hoping you’d choose this one,” she said, a small, approving grin curving her lips.
“It’s stunning. Thank you for sending it.” I hesitated. “Are you sure I can wear it?”
A smile deepened across her face. “Yes, I’m sure. I’m glad you like it. I only have Gwinifer to dress otherwise, and her tastes are far too practical. Flexible clothing she can fight in if the need arises.”
I nodded, unsurprised. I’d noticed Gwinifer’s preference for boots and leathers that whispered of blades hidden in their folds. My own dress, however, was entirely the opposite. Flowing, lightweight, and utterly useless if I needed to defend myself. At least I could move with ease wearing it. Would this evening—
“Do you want me to do your hair?” Cerridwen asked, the question cutting through my thoughts.
I blinked at her. She rarely had the time to fuss over details like this, especially before an event.
“Really?” I managed, my disbelief likely scrawled all over my face.
“Yes,” she said simply, stepping toward the dresser. “Do you like braids?”
“Uh, yes,” I said quickly, my mind snagging on the possibility that she had a reason for showing up at my bedroom door. I tried to sound casual as I asked, “Do you think a single braid would go with this dress?”
“I’m not doing a single braid. Sit down,” she instructed.
I obeyed, handing her the brush as I settled in front of the mirror. Her delicate hands began weaving through my hair, sectioning strands with precision.
“Do you know what today is?” she asked, her voice light but carrying an undercurrent that made my attention sharpen. Whatever brought her here wasn’t idle conversation.
“Reagan’s birthday,” I answered, watching her expression in the mirror. Her face was cool, but her eyes betrayed an edge of intent. “And the end of Mountheim’s sentence.”
“Yes, yes. The sentence is meant to end at the stroke of midnight.” A pause, then her eyes flicked to meet mine in the reflection. “Do you know what that means?”
“No.” And I knew better than to ask, but a part of me couldn’t help wondering if Cerridwen was the one person Reagan might have told his secret.
“Today marks a turning point. But we cannot yet know what will come of it. I’m not sure how you feel about him, but you know...Reagan is flawed, like all of us. But unlike us, he is held to a higher standard of virtue. I think, years ago, you would have despised him. Or rather, despised him even more than you did.”
I smiled, though reluctantly, my gaze drifting to the mark on my wrist. The sentence mark had faded even further, yet the memory of that day, of Reagan’s impatience and lack of empathy, remained vivid in my mind. He had been everything I couldn’t stand.
“Despite my near-constant chiding, I can tell you this: I am proud to serve him, proud of the ruler he has become.” Cerridwen exhaled, softness entering her expression as she wove the braids that would crown my head.
I had heard of the boy who lost his parents, who had been forced to grow up after a tragedy. I admired him. Not just for the obvious things, the lordship and wielding immense power, but also the unseen battles he’d fought. For the way he had dragged himself out of grief. For learning to live with the unhealed wound of his parents’ death. For carrying the guilt of the unfathomable thing he had to do. Yet, somehow, finding a wayto channel all that into becoming a better ruler, becoming more than his past. Even in the short time I’d been here, he’d changed.
My gaze shifted back to her. “I understand what you mean about how he’s changed. And still, you all look so grim today.”
Her eyes caught mine in the mirror before a small, tight smile twisted her lips. “Not grim. Concerned,” she corrected, the calm in her tone both soothing and unsettling. “It’s easy, in times like these, to see only what’s broken and believe nothing can be mended. But that is fear speaking in our minds, planting despair. We can choose to succumb to it and let it paralyse us, or we can have courage and let it fuel us. And I fear, Jane, we’ve succumbed too many times lately. But, I decided, I’ll choose courage today.”
She smiled, stepping back. “We’re done. What do you think?”
I stared at my face in the mirror, turning my head to see her intricate work. She had braided the top portion into two thick braids on both sides, wrapping around the crown of my head and falling over the bottom part that cascaded loose in soft, flowing waves.
“That’s...I look like royalty,” I murmured, too stunned at my own reflection. I barely recognised the woman in the mirror, who seemed more certain of herself, capable of power, in ways I never thought I could. “Thank you, Cerridwen.”
“We should go now.”
“Do you know where Reagan is?” I asked, glancing at her as I adjusted the delicate sleeves of my gown. “I haven’t seen him all day.”
“He should already be downstairs,” she replied, smoothing the edge of her own gown. “I told him I’d bring you this time.”
With that, I rose from the chair, the soft rustle of my skirts accompanying my steps as we moved together toward the grand room. The air seemed to hum with a thin tension, or perhaps itwas just the feeling between my shoulder blades, warning me to be wary.
