Elara’s POV If Averelle Palace had a heartbeat, tonight it was racing. Maids hurried past my door, bearing fresh linens and gleaming silver trays. Guards stood watch along the corridors, their boots creating a rhythmic thud that reverberated through the hallways. Meanwhile, two stylists flitted around me like nervous undertakers, fussing over my appearance. “Hold still, Princess,” one muttered as she carefully pinned my hair. “Try not to breathe,” the other chimed in, tugging the corset tighter. “I’d prefer to breathe, thank you,” I replied through clenched teeth. They ignored me. Of course, they did. Celene had sent them, which meant my feelings didn’t really count. “There,” the head stylist finally said, stepping back to inspect her work. “You’re fit for royalty.” I turned to face the mirror. A stranger looked back at me. My tightly curled hair was pinned high atop my head, a jeweled comb glinting ominously. The dark wine-colored gown clung to my body, elega
Last Updated : 2025-12-09 Read more