Diana's POV
I stared at my reflection in the small mirror of my temporary quarters, feeling oddly self-conscious. The woman looking back at me seemed like a stranger—someone softer, more vulnerable than the no-nonsense healer I'd become.
"This is ridiculous," I muttered, reaching for a tissue to wipe away the makeup I'd just applied.
But I hesitated, studying the subtle transformation. The light touch of color on my lips, the slight definition around my eyes—it wasn't much, but it changed me somehow. Made me look more like the Diana I'd been before everything fell apart.
The cosmetics had been an impulse purchase months ago, bought from a struggling mother in the village who sold homemade products to support her children. They'd sat untouched in my drawer until tonight, when some long-
