“You look like war wrapped in silk,” Lisa muttered as she pinned the last piece of Celeste’s braid into place.
Celeste gave her a look in the mirror. “Compliment or warning?”
Lisa smirked. “A little from column A, a little from ‘please don’t stab another envoy during tea.’”
Celeste rolled her eyes, rising to her feet with a practiced grace that belied the tightness in her ribs. “I didn’t stab him. I just reminded him why threatening me is a bad hobby.”
Lisa adjusted the hem of her coat, then stepped back. “You know the press is camped out in the outer courtyard. They’re calling you ‘The Alpha Queen.’”
“Gross.”
“You’re terrible at enjoying compliments.”
“I’m allergic to propaganda,” Celeste muttered, then glanced toward the balcony doors. “Has Mira finalized the summit list?”
Lisa n
