The nearest maid offered a small smile, the kind that looked painted on. “The Princess has no need for shyness here. We are trained to prepare honored guests.”
Jasira didn’t budge. “She’s not your guest.”
Another maid moved past her, already unfastening clasps from a wooden case. “She’s Caerthaine’s bride-to-be. She must be presented accordingly.”
Before I could object, they were already unbuttoning my cloak, tugging at the hem of my tunic, like I was their puppet.
“Wait—” I began, but their hands moved too quickly.
Jasira raised her voice. “She said—”
“Please. Let us do our work.” A cool hand pressed against Jasira’s arm.
Jasira’s jaw tensed. I caught her eye again and gave her the slightest shake of my head.
It wasn’t worth it. Not here.
With visible reluctance, she stepped back. The door closed behind her.
The room became very quiet.
I stood there in my shift, bare feet chilling against the polished floor, while the attendants unveiled the gown.
It was not a color I would have chosen.
Charcoal black, like the color of midnight. Heavy silk, cut close to the body, with a neckline that plunged farther than it had any right to. Silver embroidery crawled like vines up the bodice and twisted around the waist. A high slit ran along the left thigh, hidden by a sheer outer layer of chiffon that shimmered like fog.
“It’s a Caerthaine cut,” one maid said gently as she held it up. “Stern, but sensual.”
“It’s…not really what I—”
“Tradition, Your Highness,” she said, cutting me off.
They guided me into it with superb efficiency. The corset laced tight, until I couldn’t quite breathe right. My breasts, small as they were, were pushed into a shape that didn’t belong to me. My arms were dusted with silver powder. A thin chain was wrapped around my waist like a leash made of metal.
Then came the hair.
Another maid approached with a tray of pins and oils. Someone managed my hair with practiced fingers and combed it straight with perfumed oil I didn’t recognize. She pulled it back tight, weaving it into a sleek, knotted updo that exposed the sharp line of my jaw and every angle of my face.
I felt like a statue being carved.
“You have a lovely neck,” one of them said, adjusting the fall of earrings that brushed my collarbone. “They’ll notice that first.”
“I don’t…think I want them to,” I whispered.
The woman met my eyes in the mirror and smiled faintly.
“That’s not for you to decide.”
My eyes fixated on the girl in the mirror staring back at me. Completely unrecognizable.
Her skin was powdered smooth, and her eyes rimmed in ash-toned pigment. Her lips were painted the color of dusk. She didn’t look like a healer or a princess. She looked like an offering.
I thought nothing could suffocate me more than that crystal flower, until they dressed me in this.
I whispered, “It’s…not really what I—”
“You’re not here to want,” she said, stepping forward and draping a completely useless sheer wrap over my shoulders. “You’re here to symbolize.”
