"Your Highness, you can't wear that."
I looked down at the dress I'd chosen for the feastsimple, dark blue, practical. "Why not?"
The seamstress who'd been assigned to me looked horrified. "Because you're the princess! You're the guest of honor! You need to look..." She gestured helplessly. "More."
"More what?"
"Just... more."
Kael, sitting by the window and looking far too amused by this entire conversation, finally spoke up. "She means you need to look powerful. Wealthy. Important. Not like someone's handmaid."
"I'm not trying to intimidate people"
"Yes, you are," he interrupted. "That's exactly what you're trying to do. You want the High Lords to see you as a player, not a pawn. Which means you need to look like someone who belongs at that table."
I sighed. He was right, of course. "Fine. What do you suggest?"
The seamstress's eyes lit up. "I have just the thing, Princess. Wait here."
She rushed out, returning minutes later with an entirely different garment. Black silk, almost liquid in its movement, with silver embroidery that caught the light. The neckline was daring by Eldorian standards, showing collarbones and shoulders. The sleeves were long and fitted, ending in points that draped over my hands. And the skirt moved like water, clinging and flowing at the same time.
"It was meant for Queen Arianna," the seamstress explained softly. "She never got to wear it. She died before the feast it was made for." She held it up against me, checking the fit. "You're smaller than she was, but I can adjust it quickly."
I looked at Kael, expecting him to object. To say it wasn't appropriate, or it was disrespectful to his mother's memory.
Instead, he nodded slowly. "She would have liked you wearing it. Would have liked you, period." His voice was rough with emotion. "Do it."
Two hours later, I stood in front of the mirror, barely recognizing myself.
The dress fit perfectly now, altered to my proportions. The black silk made my skin look luminous, the silver embroidery drawing the eye. The seamstress had done something complicated with my hair, half up, half down, with small silver pins that looked like stars. And the jewelry Kael had given me as a wedding gift—dark sapphires set in silver completed the look.
I looked like a queen.
"Well?" I asked nervously. "Is it too much?"
Kael stood behind me, his reflection joining mine in the mirror. He'd dressed formally too black and silver to match, his dark hair pulled back, showing the sharp lines of his face. Together, we looked like we belonged in a fairy tale.
Or a nightmare.
"You look like you could rule the kingdom," he said quietly. "My father is going to hate it."
"Good."
He smiled at that. Then, surprising me, he pulled out a small box. "I have something else for you. I was going to wait, but... this seems like the right moment."
Inside the box was a dagger. But not just any dagger, this one was beautiful, the blade etched with patterns that seemed to shift in the light, the hilt wrapped in black leather with a silver pommel.
"It's spelled," Kael explained. "The blade can cut through magical protections. And this" he pointed to a small stone set in the pommel "if you press it, it will send an alert to me, no matter where I am in the castle. If you're in danger, if you need me, I'll know immediately."
I took the weapon carefully. It was heavier than the practice knife but balanced perfectly. "Kael, this must have cost"
"Nothing is too expensive if it keeps you alive." He showed me where to press the alert stone. "The sheath straps to your thigh. Hidden under the dress. No one will know you're armed unless you want them to."
"How many weapons are you expecting me to need tonight?"
"As many as possible." His voice was serious. "Elara, I know you're capable. I know you're smart and brave and surprisingly good at all of this. But tonight you'll be in a room full of people who've killed before, who see murder as just another political tool. I need you to be careful. Please."
"I will be. I promise." I strapped the dagger to my thigh, getting used to the weight. "Though I'm starting to feel like I'm preparing for war, not a dinner party."
"In Shadowmere, they're often the same thing."
The great hall looked spectacular. Aldus and his staff had transformed it, hundreds of candles, dark flowers, the long table set with silver and crystal. Musicians played softly in the corner. Servants stood ready to serve wine and food.
And at the center of it all, the High Lords were arriving.
"Lord Corvain," Kael murmured as a tall man with silver hair entered, his retinue behind him. "Ambitious, ruthless, politically savvy
Owns most of the mining territories in the north. Rich enough to buy an army. Smart enough to know when to use it."
Lord Corvain was handsome in a cold waysharp features, calculating eyes, impeccable clothes. He bowed to us with perfect courtesy, but I saw the way his gaze assessed everything. The decorations. The guards. Me.
"Your Highness. Princess. What a lovely celebration." His voice was smooth. "Though I was surprised by the invitation. I didn't expect you to be entertaining so soon after... recent events."
"Recent events are exactly why we're gathering," I said before Kael could respond. "In times of trouble, it's important to remind ourselves who our allies are."
Lord Corvain's eyebrow lifted slightly. "Indeed. And are we allies, Princess?"
"That depends. Are you planning to try to kill my husband?"
The room went silent. Servants froze. The musicians stopped playing.
Lord Corvain stared at me for a long moment. Then he laughed—a genuine, surprised sound. "I like her. She has teeth." He bowed again, lower this time. "No, Princess. I am not planning to kill your husband. Though I suspect you won't believe me without proof."
"Proof would be appreciated, yes."
"Then I'll endeavor to provide it over the course of the evening." He moved past us toward the table, still chuckling.
"That was bold," Kael whispered. "But effective. You just set the tone for the entire night."
"Was it too much?"
"No. It was perfect. Everyone here now knows you're not going to play by the usual rules."
The other High Lords arrived in quick succession. Lady Bloodmoon, a woman in her fifties with silver-streaked hair and eyes like flint. Lord Dark water—younger, nervous, constantly looking over his shoulder. Lady Thorn heart—ancient, leaning on a cane, but with a gaze that missed nothing. And Lord Nightshade—middle-aged, forgettable features, the kind of man who blended into backgrounds.
That last one worried me most. In my experience, the forgettable ones were often the most dangerous.
King Aldric arrived with Darian and Theron flanking him. The twins looked identical in formal dress, both watching the room with guarded expressions.
"Shall we begin?" the King announced, taking his place at the head of the table.