The dress fit wonderfully. I stood before the floor-length mirror in my room, admiring the misty gray and silver material. It clung to my upper body, a single gossamer strap curving over one shoulder and around my neck in a tight circlet lined with silver to keep it rigid. The skirt stopped just below my knees, overlaid by bands of sheer cloth reaching the floor, enveloping me in a shroud of mist. A maelstrom of black feathers had been done in delicate needlework from below my waist to my shoulders, and small hematite stones glittered along the bodice in the fading sunlight filtering in from the high windows.

My heart ached. I looked like my mother.

A knock at the door preceded Kiva entering. Her pale hair had been braided back, her typical guard uniform replaced with an all-black version. Sinvarra was strapped to her hip, polished and gleaming in the light of the sona lamps.

“Wow.” She blinked. “You look great.”

“Thanks.” I managed a smile. The crow design of my dress wouldn’t go unnoticed, but I didn’t care.

We left together, the castle corridors darkening as storm clouds gathered over the setting sun. The frosty chill of the night had crept inside, but it grew warmer as we descended the stairs toward the ballroom filled with people. Voices echoed through the halls, the great doors of the entrance hall pinned open to reveal a line of carriages in the circular courtyard.

Gold-and-blue cloth hung from the banisters, matching flowers lining every surface. Rich savory smells floated down the halls from the kitchen, mixing with the sweet mouthwatering scent drifting out of the bake house.

Someone fell into step beside us, and I stiffened until I saw who it was.

Ericen strode beside me, his Vykryn uniform gone and replaced by a beautiful navy-blue jacket lined in gold and a pair of dark pants. His black hair had been styled to the side, and he had a slight flush in his cheeks, as if he’d just arrived in a hurry from somewhere. He smiled, but it felt off. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“I see we’re going for tactfully rebellious,” he said, gaze switching from my dress to Kiva’s military-esque outfit.

“What were you going for?” Kiva asked. “Arrogant prick?”

Ericen’s jaw flexed, and I had a feeling he’d just resisted saying something extremely rude.

That’s a first. Maybe he’d finally realized insulting Kiva wasn’t the quickest way to get on my good side. The idea that he even wanted on my good side still felt foreign.

“I wasn’t sure you were coming,” I told him. “I haven’t seen you in days.”