The amber silk felt less like a gown and more like a declaration of war.
"Hold still," Victoria snapped, yanking the laces of Kaia's corset with a viciousness that suggested she was tying up a hostage. "If you slouch, the bodice wrinkles. And Southern silk does not forgive wrinkles."
Kaia stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror, barely recognizing the woman looking back.
The dress was a masterpiece of scandalous diplomacy. It was the color of liquid fire—a deep, burning amber that brought out the icy blue of her eyes and made her prismatic silver hair look like moonlight striking a flame. The neckline was daring, plunging just low enough to be distracting, but high enough to cover the fading bruises Aeron had left on her collarbone.
And then, there was the mask.
Victoria stepped forward and carefully tied the spun-gold domino mask over Kaia's eyes. The teardrop amber jewels glittered in the candlelight.
