The Council's annual gown fitting for the Moon Ceremony took place in the palace's grand receiving hall, a room usually reserved for formal audiences now filled with dress rack, seamstresses and the low murmur of noblewomen discussing fabric and jewelry like it was a matter of national security.
Luna wasn't meant to be there at all — her role was strictly service, carrying trays of refreshment for the women being fitted — but Mrs. Abara had assigned her the shift, and there was no refusing without an explanation Luna wasn't prepared to give.
She kept her head down, moving between racks of silk and chiffon, offering tea and small pastries to women who barely acknowledged her existence. It was easier that way.
Invisible was safer than seen, especially in a room full of nobility preparin
