The palace comes into view the moment I step into another clearing. Its spires burst into the clouds like wisps of smoke escaping to freedom. Each window is adorned with silver frames and polished stone carvings. The palace itself is made of stone whiter than anything I’ve ever seen, with an unnatural hue that seems to mirror light back into the world, casting an almost ethereal glow over the landscape.

The hologram didn’t do this place justice.

I can practically feel the button-sized device radiating heat within a hidden pocket of my dress, cursing warnings at me that make my stomach knot.

I don’t hesitate—I walk up the steps and through the palace doors before my mind gets the chance to order me back around.

I expect to find marbled walls and glistening chandeliers, but instead I’m greeted by a miniature forest. Birch trees shimmer all around me, their thin branches carrying the weight of thousands of tiny silver leaves. Some of the trees contort together to create doorframes, and others create archways leading to various rooms. Even the grand double staircase is made up of polished white branches, smooth to the touch and wider than twice my arm span. The banister is decorated with winding loops of silver ivy and lights, and the floor is as clear as glass and glistens like fresh snow on a mountain. Floating lights linger at the highest point of the mirrored ceiling like a collection of stars.

Two Residents descend from the left staircase, their lowered voices sending an echo through the grand entrance room. Their dresses trail behind them like water—both a matching pink, but while one is sleek and low-cut, the other billows in layers of tulle. When they reach the bottom step, they both send a polite nod my way before walking arm in arm through one of the towering archways.

“May I be of any assistance?” a birdlike voice asks.

I turn to find a human staring at me with vacant eyes. Her hair is tied up in twin buns, and she wears simple white robes that fit snugly against her forearms. A stretch of silver coils around her biceps, and in the middle is a deep blue gem.

A blue that symbolizes a servant of the palace.

I steel my voice as a Resident would to a human. As humans once did to Ophelia, my mind whispers. “No, that won’t be necessary,” I say curtly.

Ahmet told me palace servants would never question a Resident. They have no reason to—they’re brought here to serve, not to spy.

She dips her head to acknowledge me. “It is an honor to serve,” she says before disappearing into another room.

A human wandering around the palace uninvited would bring the Legion Guards. But a Resident doesn’t raise any suspicion at all.