The day had not belonged to her.
That, more than anything, unsettled Bella.
From the moment dawn broke over the palace rooftops in bands of pale amber and misted gold, the entire royal compound had been swallowed by preparations for the Lantern Festival. Servants hurried through the courtyards with arms full of silk banners and polished brass lanterns. Kitchen girls moved in quick, breathless lines between the palace kitchens and the outer halls, carrying trays of sugared fruit, sweet rice cakes, candied chestnuts, and honey-glazed pastries meant for noble guests who would flood the palace grounds before sunset.
Even the soldiers, men who usually moved with practiced indifference, seemed sharper, more restless, as if the coming night had touched every stone in the kingdom.
The Lantern Festival was not merely celebration.
It was spectacle.
Prayer.
Romance.
Politics.
And in a place like the palace, where every smile meant three different things depending on who was watching, it was also danger wrapped in beauty.
Bella had known from the moment she woke that she would not be spending the day with the Crown Prince.
His schedule had been altered before sunrise.
Royal lessons in the first quarter of the morning. Strategic consultation with two senior ministers after breakfast. A private audience with the finance council before noon. Then internal court matters, petitions, disputes, correspondence from the southern provinces, and whatever other tedious burdens came with being heir to a throne he had never been allowed to simply inherit without being crushed beneath it.
No sparring.
No sword drills.
No mountain training.
No quiet moments stolen between duty and desire.
It should not have bothered her.
It did.
Which was why, by midmorning, Bella had buried herself in the only thing that ever made sense when her mind became too loud.
Training.
The practice grounds behind the eastern barracks rang with the sharp metallic clash of steel, the rough grunts of effort, and the barked corrections of men trying very hard not to embarrass themselves in front of a woman who could disarm half of them before they had time to blink.
Bella stood in the center of the ring with her sleeves tied back, hair pulled away from her face, sweat glinting lightly at her throat.
"Again," she said flatly.
The young guard opposite her swallowed.
He lunged.
She stepped aside before the blade reached her, twisted at the wrist, struck the back of his knee with the flat of her wooden training sword, and sent him sprawling into the dust.
The men surrounding the ring winced in collective sympathy.
Bella exhaled through her nose.
"Your shoulders are warning me before your sword does," she told him. "If I can read you that easily, an assassin will thank you before gutting you."
A few of the older guards coughed to hide their laughter.
The young man scrambled upright, red-faced but determined. "Again."
That earned him the smallest flicker of approval.
"Good," Bella said. "At least you're stubborn."
She moved through them one by one after that.
Correcting stances.
Breaking grips.
Demonstrating balance.
Showing them how to recover when overpowered instead of freezing like frightened deer waiting for permission to die.
Some of them were decent.
Most were not.
But by the time the sun had risen high enough to press heat against the stone walls, the entire unit looked less sloppy than they had when she started, and Bella could feel the first bite of exhaustion settling into her shoulders.
Which was exactly what she wanted.
Pain was useful.
Fatigue was honest.
It drowned out everything else.
"Lady Ha-neul."
She turned at the sound of the voice and found Poong Yeon stepping through the archway that led from the upper palace corridors to the practice grounds.
He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, expression unreadable as ever, though something in the set of his shoulders told her he had come with purpose.
"If you're here to tell me the kingdom has collapsed," she said, "I would like a cup of water first."
"The kingdom remains standing."
"Disappointing."
A few guards smothered their laughter.
Poong Yeon waited until the men had dispersed before stepping closer.
His voice lowered.
"His Highness sent word."
Something traitorous flickered through her chest.
Bella hated that Poong Yeon noticed everything.
She set the practice sword aside and folded her arms, pretending not to care.
"Oh?"
"He asks that you prepare for the Lantern Festival."
Her brows rose.
"The festival?"
"It begins after sunset. The city procession will be underway by the seventh bell and a half." He paused, watching her carefully. "You are to be ready by the eighth bell."
Bella blinked.
For one absurd second, she forgot how to breathe.
Poong Yeon continued in that same maddeningly flat tone.
"His Highness will meet you at the western rear gate."
"The… western rear gate?"
"Yes."
"The hidden one?"
"The gate exists," Poong Yeon said. "Its secrecy is not aided by your volume."
Bella lowered her voice at once, then leaned in.
"We're sneaking out?"
Poong Yeon gave her a look.
"His Highness is attending the Lantern Festival."
"That's not what I asked."
"That is the answer I am giving."
Bella stared at him, then huffed a laugh under her breath.
Of course.
Of course the Crown Prince of Joseon, dutiful, elegant, maddeningly impossible Prince Ji-ho, had arranged a clandestine nighttime outing through the back gate like the hero of every period drama she had ever watched.
And of course he had sent Poong Yeon to deliver the message, as though that made it any less suspiciously romantic.
"Does he do this often?" she asked.
"His Highness?"
"Yes. Secret nighttime escapes. Dramatic meetings at hidden gates. The sort of thing that gets entire dynasties overthrown."
Poong Yeon expression did not move.
"No. But he does now, if it means being alone with you."
That answer landed harder than she expected.
Ohhh.
Meaning this was unusual.
Meaning this was for her.
Bella looked away first.
"Right," she said, trying for casual and missing by a mile. "Well. Fine. I'll… be there."
Poong Yeon inclined his head once.
"There is more."
Her shoulders sagged.
"There's always more."
"His Highness requests that you wear the clothes he gifted you."
Bella frowned.
"Ohhh, those clothes."
She stared at him as he walked away.
She then remembered she had somewhere to be and someone waiting for her.
But was he still waiting, she wondered.
The streets shimmered like molten gold, lanterns swaying in the evening breeze, carrying whispers of wishes and laughter.
The air smelled of fried sweetcakes and incense, mingled with the earthy scent of rain-warmed stones.
Bells chimed softly in alleyways, blending with the murmur of nobles haggling over silk ribbons, lanterns, and paper charms.
Everyone in the city had waited for this night, the Lantern Festival, but Bella felt as though time had slowed just for her.
Up on the mountaintop, Yoo-jae waited, his figure poised against the fading orange of the sun. The wind tousled his dark hair, and for a moment, Bella's heart stuttered.
She had meant to keep him waiting, meant to finish her training first, but he had waited anyway.
"I'm sorry," she said when she finally reached him, slightly breathless from the climb. "I… I have plans with the Crown Prince tonight."
Yoo-jae's gaze flickered, sharp and unreadable. "Plans?" he repeated, one brow lifting. "Since when does he make plans like this?"
Bella gave a small, helpless shrug, though the truth tightened something inside her chest. She gestured vaguely toward the lantern-lit city below. "Since yesterday. He wanted to go out, so… I said yes."
For a moment, Yoo-jae said nothing.
Then his lips curved into the faintest, most infuriating smile.
"And… can I tag along?"
Bella blinked, then huffed out the beginning of a laugh.
"No," she said, firm but not unkind. "It's just the two of us."
"Ah." He let out a soft sigh of exaggerated disappointment. "How unfortunate. I was hoping to spend the evening with you too."
Bella looked at him properly then, her brows drawing together.
"Why the sudden interest in me, Yoo-jae?" she asked, half teasing, half wary. "We barely know each other."
"Strangers stop being strangers when they decide to," he replied softly, leaning one shoulder against the rock beside him. The city lights below caught the sharp line of his jaw, and Bella hated that she noticed.
She studied him for a long moment, her curiosity prickling sharper than caution.
Then, quieter, she asked, "So… you don't see me as a stranger anymore?"
His gaze held hers.
"I don't."
The simplicity of it made her pulse stumble.
Bella swallowed and tried to steady herself with humor, though her voice came out softer than she intended.
"Do you… like me?" she asked, her lips twitching faintly. "Or are you just trying to spite the Crown Prince?"
Yoo-jae's expression changed at once. The teasing ease left him, replaced by something calmer. More earnest.
"Do you really think I'd waste my interest on spite?"
Bella's breath caught.
The wind tugged at the loose strands of her hair, and below them the city glowed brighter as lantern after lantern came to life.
She looked away first, down toward the festival, toward the laughter rising from the streets, and suddenly the whole world felt far too close.
"I…" Her fingers tightened against her sleeve. "I need to know what ground I'm standing on."
Yoo-jae watched her carefully, then pushed himself away from the rock.
"You aren't from here," he said at last, his voice lower now. "You're not like us. You help, you fight, you survive, but you're always being watched. Always measured." His gaze darkened, though not with anger. "You can't give your heart to someone when your life still doesn't belong to you."
Bella's chest tightened at the truth of it.
"That's your fact," she said quietly, "not what I believe."
Something flickered across his face, hope, maybe, or pain.
"Then why go out with him?" he asked, and though his voice stayed steady, there was the faintest strain beneath it. "Why choose to go through with it at all?"
Bella hesitated.
Because he asked.
Because he was the Crown Prince.
Because refusing him was not simple.
Because… it wasn't only duty.
Her throat tightened.
"Because…" she began softly, "he asked. Because he's the Crown Prince. And…" She trailed off, unable, or unwilling, to finish the thought.
Yoo-jae held her gaze for a long moment, the silence between them suddenly heavier than the evening air.
Then, slowly, he nodded.
"I see."
But he didn't. Or maybe he did, and that was worse.
Bella looked away, unable to bear the quiet disappointment she could feel settling over him.
At last, he let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, though there was no amusement in it.
"Then go," he said.
She looked back at him.
Yoo-jae's expression had softened, but not enough to hide the hurt beneath it.
"But I wanted to get to know you too."
The words landed more gently than they should have, and that somehow made them cut deeper.
Bella's lips parted, but no answer came.
What could she say?
That she was curious too?
Instead, she said nothing.
And perhaps that silence said everything.
The corridor was quieter than Bella expected.
For a palace that had spent the better half of the day preparing for the Lantern Festival, she had imagined the inner passageways would still be alive with servants rushing from one wing to another, arms full of folded silk, lacquered trays, and polished lanterns waiting to be lit at dusk. Instead, the hallway leading back toward her quarters held only the faint rustle of distant movement, the lingering perfume of incense, and the thin golden wash of late afternoon sunlight stretching across the stone floor.
That conversation on the mountain with Yoo-jae was something she never considered ever happening. How can a stranger recognizing her inner struggles so easily? An inner conflict she had tried so hard to deny.
Was she being reckless with it, she thought.
Everything about her growing feelings for Ji-ho felt reckless now.
And yet—
"Ha-neul!"
The voice rang brightly through the corridor behind her, followed by the quick slap of soft shoes against polished stone.
Bella turned just in time to see Hyejin half-running, half-skipping toward her, skirts gathered in one hand, the other pressed dramatically to her chest as though she had just survived some terrible ordeal.
"There you are!" Hyejin cried, breathless and grinning. "I thought you were avoiding me."
Bella laughed before she could stop herself, the tension in her shoulders loosening instantly. "Avoiding you? Impossible. You're far too important to me, for me to even think about it." Bella told her.
Hyejin giggles at her words.
Hyejin reached her and looped herself beside Bella without invitation, peering up at her with the kind of wide-eyed delight only fourteen -year-olds seemed capable of sustaining for entire afternoons.
"It's been forever since I saw you," Bella said, bumping her shoulder lightly. "What happened? Has the kitchen finally become so unbearable that you forgot I exist?"
Hyejin gasped in mock offense. "Forgot you? Never. I've simply been suffering."
"Suffering?"
"Terribly." She lowered her voice dramatically. "Do you know how exhausting it is to serve a dozen noble girls who all think they're already Crown Princess?"
Bella snorted.
Hyejin immediately clutched at Bella's sleeve, delighted by her own gossip. "No, listen! I have so much to tell you. You won't believe the things happening in the palace."
"I'm sure I won't," Bella murmured, though a smile tugged at her mouth.
They continued down the corridor together, their footsteps falling into easy rhythm.
"The Selection is nearly over," Hyejin began, her voice dropping into the eager hush of someone who had been waiting all day to spill secrets. "There are only three girls left now."
Bella glanced down at her. "Three already?"
Hyejin nodded rapidly. "Three. The rest have either embarrassed themselves, offended someone important, or failed one of the tests so badly that even the court ladies looked ashamed for them." She leaned in closer. "And everyone says Lady Seo Yeon is winning."
"Lady Seo Yeon?" Bella repeated.
"The Left State Councillor's daughter," Hyejin said, as if that explained everything. "Tall, perfect posture, never sweats, never stumbles, speaks like she was born reciting poetry. She has the highest score so far. The ladies in the kitchen are convinced she'll be the one chosen."
Bella's expression stayed neutral, but something in her chest went strangely still.
The Left State Councillor's daughter.
Of course.
A girl born for it. Raised for it. Shaped for the role from infancy.
A girl who would know how to sit in the royal court without feeling like an intruder. A girl who would know how to bow to the Queen Mother, how to speak to ministers, how to smile at nobles without saying too much or too little. A girl who would wear silk like it belonged to her skin and never once question whether she was taking up space meant for someone else.
A girl the kingdom would accept.
"Ha-Neil?"
She blinked.
Hyejin was watching her now, curious.
"You're making that face."
"What face?"
"The one where you pretend you don't care about something but obviously care very much."
Bella gave her a flat look. Ah-ha,that face. You're getting too observant."
"I work in the royal kitchens," Hyejin replied with a smug lift of her chin. "Observation is survival."
Bella laughed under her breath.
Hyejin continued, lowering her voice again as they turned into a quieter stretch of corridor. "Everyone has been talking about the Queen too. She's stricter now that the final round is close. The court ladies barely breathe when she enters the selection hall."
"That sounds healthy," Bella muttered.
"It gets worse," Hyejin said cheerfully. "The girls are all pretending to be kind to one another, but they're not. One of them cried because another 'accidentally' spilled tea on her sleeves. Another one fainted in the middle of embroidery practice because she'd been starving herself to look more delicate."
Bella grimaced. "That sounds miserable."
"It is," Hyejin said with surprising seriousness. "They're all trying so hard."
Bella's gaze drifted ahead.
Trying so hard for a man who had no say in the outcome. Trying so hard for a life that would bind them to a palace that could turn beautiful things into cages.
The thought sat bitterly on her tongue.
"And the Crown Prince?" Bella asked, trying for casual and failing only slightly.
Hyejin's eyes flashed immediately.
"Ohhh," she sang.
Bella groaned. "Don't start."
"You asked!"
"I asked because the entire kingdom is auditioning to become his wife. It would be strange not to ask."
Hyejin looked unconvinced, but accepted the excuse with a grin.
"I haven't served him directly," she admitted, "not once. The attendants in his wing are very particular. But…" She leaned in again, voice dropping into scandalized delight. "I heard something strange."
Bella arched a brow.
"They say," Hyejin whispered, "that lately, the Crown Prince has been laughing in his chambers."
Bella blinked. "Laughing?"
"Yes!"
"That's your shocking secret?"
"You don't understand." Hyejin swatted her arm. "They say he'll just… stop in the middle of reading, or while dressing, or after training, and he'll look at some painting in his room and start smiling to himself like a fool."
Bella's steps slowed.
"A painting?" she repeated carefully.
Hyejin nodded. "That's what they said. He stares at it like it's the most precious thing in the world."
Bella tried to keep her face still.
Tried and failed.
What sort of painting would make the prince laugh so that people around would think he'd run mad.
"What kind of painting?" she asked, too quickly.
Hyejin gave her a sly look. "Ah. So now you're interested."
"I'm just asking."
"I don't know," Hyejin said, dragging out the words. "No one says. But the attendants noticed it. They talk, Ha-neul. They always talk."
Bella looked ahead again, still confused.
What painting and why does it make him laugh and smile so?
By the time they reached Bella's quarters, Hyejin had launched into three more pieces of palace gossip, one involving a court lady, a broken hairpin, and a scandalous misunderstanding in the women's pavilion, before abruptly stopping in the doorway.
"Oh!"
Bella turned.
Hyejin was staring at the folded bundle tucked under Bella's arm.
Her eyes narrowed.
Then widened.
Then narrowed again.
"What," she asked slowly, "is that?"
Bella looked down at the parcel as though seeing it for the first time.
"Oh. This?" she said lightly, stepping inside. "Nothing."
Hyejin followed her immediately and shut the door behind them with the dramatic finality of someone entering sacred territory.
"That is not 'nothing,'" she said. "That cloth alone could feed a family for five months."
Bella laughed despite herself and placed the bundle carefully atop the low table near the floor cushions. "It's a gift."
"A gift?"
"Yes."
Hyejin squinted at her.
Bella busied herself removing her outer layer, trying to look unaffected.
Hyejin gasped so loudly Bella nearly dropped the garment.
"No."
Bella bit back a smile.
"No," Hyejin repeated, louder this time, one hand flying to her mouth. "Tell me that is not from who I think it is."
Bella turned at last, feigning innocence. "Who do you think it is from?"
"The Crown Prince."
Bella's smile betrayed her.
Hyejin made a strangled noise that was half scream, half delighted laughter, and lunged toward the bundle so fast Bella had to catch the table before it rattled.
"A gift?" Hyejin cried. "From the Crown Prince?"
"He invited me to watch the Lantern Festival with him tonight," Bella said, aiming for casual and landing somewhere closer to mortifyingly shy.
For a moment, Hyejin simply stared at her.
Then she exploded.
"Oh my gods."
"Hyejin-"
"Oh my gods, oh my gods, oh my gods!"
"Hyejin!"
The girl spun in place, hands over her mouth, eyes glittering. "The Lantern Festival? At night? With him? Alone?"
Bella folded her arms. "You're being dramatic."
"I'm being accurate!"
"It's not like that."
"Then what is it like?"
Bella opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Hyejin pointed at her triumphantly. "Exactly."
Bella sighed, but she was smiling now despite herself. "He asked. I said yes. That is all."
"That is not all," Hyejin said, scandalized. "Have you opened it?"
"No."
The girl froze.
"No?" she repeated faintly.
"I was busy."
"Busy?"
"I had things to do and to think about."
Hyejin stared at her like she had confessed to kicking a puppy.
"You were given a mysterious royal gift by the Crown Prince himself, for a private outing during the Lantern Festival, and you… didn't open it?"
Bella lifted one shoulder. "I was going to."
"When? In old age?"
Bella laughed outright.
Hyejin dropped to her knees by the table and looked up at her with desperate pleading. "Please tell me I can open it."
Bella pretended to consider.
"Please," Hyejin repeated, clasping her hands. "If I die without seeing what is inside, my ghost will haunt you forever."
"That sounds inconvenient."
"Ha-Neil."
Bella shook her head, smiling. "Fine. Open it."
Hyejin squealed.
She untied the linen knot with reverent fingers, carefully unfolding the layers of fine cloth until the contents were revealed one by one.
For a heartbeat, the room went still.
Then Hyejin inhaled sharply.
"Oh…"
Even Bella, who had expected something formal, something elegant, something princely—
—had not expected this.
The hanbok lay folded in rich, luminous layers, the fabric catching candlelight like liquid fire. The outer skirt was a deep, regal red, not the loud, garish red of ceremonial banners, but a refined, breathtaking crimson touched with subtle gold-thread embroidery that curled along the hem like trailing blossoms and hidden flames. The jeogori was softer in tone, a pale cream brushed with warm rose and lined with silk so fine it looked impossibly smooth beneath the fingers.
A pair of finely tailored embroidered boots, made to her measure
Hairpins with emerald coloring, which matched her eyes, several of them, nestled in a lacquered box lined with dark velvet: delicate gold filigree, pearl accents, a floral binyeo, a comb set with tiny emerald stones, and two dangling ornaments that would catch light with every turn of the head.
A bracelet.
A silk pouch.
A ribbon.
Even a small vial of perfume, stoppered in carved glass.
Bella stared.
Hyejin turned to her so slowly it was almost theatrical.
"Did the Crown Prince… buy all this for you? "
Bella swallowed.
"I suppose he did."
"You suppose?"
"I mean, yes, obviously, but-"
"These are not ordinary gifts," Hyejin said, almost breathless now. She lifted one sleeve with careful hands, as though afraid to bruise it. "Ha-neul… this is not the kind of clothing one gives casually."
Bella crouched beside her, fingers brushing the fabric.
It really was beautiful.
Too beautiful.
Too intimate in a way she had not expected.
He had not simply sent clothing for the festival.
He had chosen colors.
Chosen textures.
Chosen ornaments.
Chosen the details of how he wanted her to appear beside him.
Something in her stomach fluttered in a way she deeply resented.
"They're… beautiful," Hyejin whispered.
"They're thoughtful," Bella said quietly, her fingertips tracing the gold embroidery. "The Crown Prince… notices things. Even small things."
Hyejin tilted her head and studied Bella's face.
Then, very softly, she asked, "But… does he like you?"
Bella stilled.
There it was.
The question no one had the right to ask.
The question everyone seemed to be asking anyway.
She forced out a quiet breath and shook her head. "Impossible."
Hyejin frowned.
"He has duties," Bella continued, though the words sounded thin even to her own ears. "Royal obligations. The Selection is still happening. In two days, they'll likely announce the final choice. He's a Crown Prince, Hyejin. He belongs to this kingdom. To its politics. To its future."
"And you?"
Bella's laugh came out softer than intended. "I'm his bodyguard."
"No."
Hyejin's voice was unexpectedly firm.
Bella looked at her.
The girl set down the sleeve she was holding and met Bella's gaze with a seriousness that seemed older than fourteen.
"That may be your title," she said, "but that is not all you are to him."
Bella looked away first.
Because she had seen it too.
The way his eyes followed her.
The way his voice softened around her.
The way he found excuses to keep her near him.
The way he looked at her as though she were not merely someone protecting him, but someone he had begun to need.
And that was the problem.
"It doesn't matter," Bella said at last.
"It matters to him."
"It cannot matter."
Hyejin opened her mouth, but Bella continued, quieter now.
"People are already whispering."
Hyejin hesitated.
Bella's gaze remained fixed on the spread of silk before them, but she was no longer seeing the dress. She was seeing corridors. Watching eyes. Servants who knew too much. Ministers who noticed too much. Noble daughters with bruised pride. Political enemies with sharp instincts and cruel patience.
"Everyone sees it," she murmured. "That's what frightens me."
Hyejin's expression softened.
Bella drew in a breath.
"If the palace servants notice," she said, "if court ladies notice, if you notice… then his enemies will notice too."
The words settled heavy in the room.
The warmth from moments before thinned into something colder.
Bella's fingers tightened over the fabric in her lap.
"He is already surrounded by people who want power," she said, voice low. "People who watch every weakness. Every mistake. Every softness." She looked up then, meeting Hyejin's eyes. "What if they see me as one?"
Hyejin didn't answer immediately.
Because there was no easy answer.
Because they both knew Bella was right.
Because affection in the palace was not simply affection.
It was leverage.
A weapon.
A fault line waiting to crack open under the wrong hands.
Bella swallowed and forced a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. "See? This is why I shouldn't be thinking about any of it."
Hyejin stared at her for a long moment.
Then, in true Hyejin fashion, she reached out and lightly smacked Bella's knee.
"Ow."
"You think too much."
"I think exactly enough."
"No, you think in spirals," Hyejin declared. "And you always do this when something makes you happy."
Bella blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You do." Hyejin pointed at her as though making a legal argument. "Whenever something good happens, you immediately try to find ten reasons why you're not allowed to enjoy it."
Bella opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Hyejin looked entirely too pleased with herself.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"I absolutely do."
Bella huffed a laugh, but it caught in her throat because some part of her knew the girl was right.
Knew that joy frightened her more than danger ever had.
Knew that wanting something, or someone, made her feel exposed in ways swords never could.
Hyejin's gaze dropped to the hanbok again, and her face softened into a bright, almost dreamy smile.
"Still," she said, touching the silk with reverence, "if you're going to break your own heart, you might as well look beautiful doing it."
Bella let out a startled laugh.
"Hyejin!"
"What?" The girl grinned. "I'm being honest."
"That was cruel."
"That was wise."
"That was dramatic."
"Also true."
Bella shook her head, but her chest felt lighter somehow.
For a while, they sat in companionable silence, both looking at the gifts spread across the floor.
The red silk.
The gold ornaments.
The emerald hair pin.
The promise of night waiting just beyond the walls.
The promise of something she should not want.
Hyejin reached out and gently touched Bella's arm.
"Should I help you get ready?" she asked.
Bella turned to her.
The question was simple. Sweet. Earnest.
And something about it, something about the softness of the moment, the trust, the fact that this girl looked at her with all the uncomplicated love of a younger sister, made Bella's expression ease.
"Yes," she said quietly. "Please."
Hyejin's face lit up at once.
"Oh, thank the heavens," she declared, scrambling to her feet. "Because if you tried to wear this alone, you would absolutely destroy it."
Bella stared at her. "That seems harsh."
"It's true."
"I'm capable of dressing myself."
"In this?" Hyejin lifted the jeogori and gave her a withering look. "This is not one of your practical training outfits. This is silk, ceremony, and quiet intimidation. It must be respected."
Bella rose too, laughing under her breath. "I didn't realize clothing came with commandments."
"This one does."
Hyejin began arranging the layers with the brisk seriousness of someone assuming temporary control of a kingdom.
Bella watched her for a moment, amused.
Then Hyejin glanced over her shoulder and said, "You have to wear it properly."
Bella arched a brow.
"Like a princess." Hyejin said.
The words landed strangely.
Bella smiled, but it was a small thing, touched at the edges by something far more fragile.
"I'm not a princess," she said.
Hyejin paused.
Bella's fingers drifted over the red silk, smoothing a fold that did not need smoothing.
"And I might never actually get to be one."
The room fell quiet.
The teasing vanished from Hyejin's face.
For a brief second, she looked not like a chatty palace girl, not like a mischievous fourteen-year-old chasing gossip and sweets, but like someone who had just glimpsed the ache Bella kept tucked beneath her sarcasm and her stubbornness and her swords.
Because the words had not been about crowns.
Not really.
They had been about possibility.
About distance.
About the unbearable shape of wanting something she had no right to reach for.
Hyejin said nothing.
But Bella saw it, the way the girl's expression softened, the way she held that truth close without pressing it open.
She knew.
Maybe not all of it.
But enough.
Enough to understand that Bella's laughter often came with splinters in it.
Enough to understand that the Crown Prince's gaze was not a small thing.
Enough to understand that her friend, her almost-older-sister, her protector, the woman who always seemed stronger than anyone else in the room, was standing at the edge of something beautiful and impossible all at once.
Hyejin swallowed.
Then, very gently, she smiled.
"Well," she said, her voice warm again, though softer now, "for tonight, you don't need to be a princess."
Bella looked at her.
Hyejin lifted the jeweled hairpin.
"You only need to look like the one he cannot stop staring at."
Bella stared at her for half a second.
Then groaned, horrified.
"Hyejin."
The girl burst into laughter.
Bella lunged for her.
Hyejin shrieked and dodged, nearly dropping the hairpin, both of them stumbling into a tangle of silk and breathless laughter until Bella caught her around the waist and the two of them nearly collapsed onto the floor cushions.
"All right, all right!" Hyejin gasped between giggles. "No more teasing. I swear."
"You're impossible."
"And yet you adore me."
Bella released her with a snort. "Debatable."
Hyejin grinned wickedly and held up the red skirt. "Stand still."
Bella sighed like a condemned woman.
"Fine."
Outside, the palace was beginning to glow.
Lanterns were being lit one by one across the courtyards, their warm light spreading like small stars across the gathering dusk. Somewhere in the distance, musicians were tuning strings. Servants hurried through corridors with trays of sweet rice cakes and polished cups. Noble daughters adjusted sleeves and smiles. Court ladies whispered. Guards changed watch.
And in the quiet of Bella's quarters, as red silk whispered over skin and gold ornaments caught in candlelight, the night ahead seemed to hold its breath.
Waiting.
For the festival.
For the fire.
For the moment everything unspoken would begin to burn.