The ribbons on the box came undone with a whisper.
Inside, nestled in black silk, lay a robe unlike anything I'd worn before. Deep obsidian with metallic embroidery so fine it caught the candlelight like a blade. The threads weren't silver—they were steel, shaped into thorned vines and curling phoenix feathers, as if forged instead of stitched.
It wasn't beautiful, and it definitely wasn't my trademark green. But it was terrifying.
And that was exactly the point.
By the time the final bells rang through the inner court, I stood at the doors to my suite, ready to be escorted to the main hall. I was wrapped in thorns and steel, my hair bound in a high knot, and the Crown Prince's jade seal hung at my waist like a burn mark.
The eunuchs and maids trailed around me, guiding us through the palace grounds that weren't ours yet, but soon enough, would be home.
When we got to the doors of the banquet all, they opened with a groan of wood and gold.
The crowd rose.
