The warm afternoon light filtered across the polished surface of the rosewood mirror, casting a soft glow over the delicate sea-foam lace of my gown. It shimmered as I smoothed the fabric over my waist, feeling the silky softness beneath my fingertips. I leaned closer, eyeing the intricate beadwork that lined the bodice—tiny jewels sewn into place by hands far more patient than mine could ever be. The powder-green silk swirled around my legs like water, light and ethereal, but nothing was comforting about it.
The dagger I’d hidden in my bodice was a constant reminder of who I was, pressing uncomfortably against my ribs every time I shifted. Beauty came with a price, it seemed, and today’s toll was paid in bruised flesh.
“You look positively stunning,” Willow said, bustling into the room
