Elara’s POV
The silk whispered against my legs with every step.
I’d pinned my hair up before dawn — a careful twist at the nape of my neck, secured with two silver pins the shopkeeper had thrown in for free. “A woman in that dress deserves the full armor,” she’d said, pressing them into my palm.
Armor. That was exactly what this was.
The palace gates loomed ahead. I squared my shoulders and walked through.
The front hall was already alive with morning activity. Servants carrying linens. Pages darting between corridors with sealed letters. The scent of beeswax polish and fresh-cut flowers hung in the air like a veil.
I made it exactly four steps inside before the staring began.
A maid near the entrance was carrying a silver tray stacked with porcelain teacups. She glanced up, and her
