"Take this off," Heena commanded, abruptly turning on her heel and marching back into the bedchamber.
The twenty elite Shadow Guards remained kneeling, utterly confused, as the heavy oak doors slammed shut once again. Inside, the terrified maids scrambled backward as Heena began violently untying the ceremonial sashes, letting the heavy outer robes fall to the floorboards in a pool of red silk.
"I am attending an execution, not a poetry recital," Heena stated, her dark eyes flashing with the unnatural, burning vitality of the Class-S stimulant. She pointed a sharp finger at the head maid. "Fetch the foreign silk garments from the southern trade chests. The two-piece set. Now."
The maids gasped, their faces paling in sheer horror. To wear a separated skirt and top to the Imperial Palace was a catastrophic breach of ancient aristocratic etiquette. It was considered brazen, entirely too martial, and scandalously modern for a court that worshipped rigid, layered tradition.
