The civil officials hid their scoffs behind their silk fans, rolling their eyes at the Southern fool.
But then, Heena stepped out.
The moment the lantern light hit her champagne-colored robes, a collective, sharp gasp echoed across the jade terrace.
The civil court ladies, dressed in their bright pinks, greens, and blues, stared in absolute horror. The color was devastatingly close to Imperial Gold. In this deeply traditional society, wearing such a shade was an act of pure, unadulterated arrogance. It was a silent, visual statement that the Vanguard answered to no one.
With her sharp, perfectly drawn eyeliner, her glossy red lips, and the cold, unyielding aura of a battlefield commander, Heena looked like a goddess of war descending upon a flock of trembling pigeons.
"How utterly shameless," one of the minister's wives whispered loudly behind her fan. "Has the military completely forgotten their place?"
