Chapter 149: The Dress That Does Not Decide for Me
Chapter 148: The Dress That Does Not Decide for Me
Lyria’s POV
I stepped into my chambers expecting silence.
Instead, I found movement.
The wardrobe doors stood wide open, and my dresses—my clothes—had already been taken into someone else’s hands. Fabric shifted. Hangers clicked softly. The air itself felt disturbed, as though my room had been rearranged in my absence and no one had thought to ask permission.
For a moment, I simply stood at the threshold.
Three figures moved within the space.
Theresa at the wardrobe.
Sally at the dressing table.
Diana nearer the centre, as though she had already decided the room belonged to her until further notice.
Then Diana turned.
"Your Highness," she said quickly, and—this time—she bowed her head properly.
I noticed it, but I said nothing.
My gaze shifted instead to the dresses being placed into the wardrobe. Silks and structured gowns, colours that were not foreign to me. Greens, creams, deep blues softened with silver threading. The kind of palette I would have chosen myself... had I been asked.
"W-what is happening?" I asked at last, softly.
Diana straightened.
"The Queen has sent garments for you, Your Highness," she replied. "For this evening’s interview."
I said nothing.
Theresa, already moving away from the wardrobe, spoke next.
"She instructed that you be properly prepared," she added, "so that you appear... presentable."
The pause before the word was brief.
But I heard it.
I nodded once, though I was not sure they saw it.
"I s-see," I said quietly.
Sally had already begun arranging items on the dressing table. Brushes. Powder. Small glass containers that caught the light and scattered it in soft fragments across the wood.
"I shall fetch warm water," Theresa said, already turning. "You will need to be washed before dressing."
I watched her go without speaking.
Everything moved as though I were not required to participate in it. As though my agreement had already been assumed.
I stepped further into the room.
The dresses were now arranged more neatly than I remembered them being. Someone had taken care to sort them by tone and texture. By occasion, perhaps. Or by what they believed the occasion required of me.
My fingers hovered near the fabric of a gown at the front.
Green.
Deep, almost forest-dark, with a faint shimmer threaded through it that caught the light only when it moved. The bodice was structured but not harsh, shaped to fall elegantly without suffocating the wearer. The sleeves were long, tapering delicately at the wrists with small embroidered detailing—gold stitching so fine it almost disappeared unless one looked closely.
It was... beautiful.
Of course it was.
Everything they had chosen was beautiful.
That was the point.
I lowered my hand before touching it.
So this was what they wanted.
To place me in silk and colour and softness, then set me before a room of watching eyes and call it fairness.
I turned slightly, watching the maids continue their work.
A stage had been prepared for me.
Theresa returned not long after, warm water carried carefully between her hands. Sally had already begun laying out what she called "make-up"—though I had never once needed such things before now.
And yet—
I allowed it.
The washing was done in silence. The scars on my back were not mentioned. There was no shocked look, which told me that they were already aware of it.
An ointment was rubbed on the scars after I was done washing up.
The green gown slipped over my frame like something inevitable. It was structured enough to remind me that it had been designed with intention. The bodice sat firm, shaped with precision. The skirt fell in layered folds that moved quietly when I shifted.
My hair was drawn up into a neat bun, pinned carefully so not a strand escaped its place. A few softer curls were allowed near the temples, framing my face in a way that felt almost... calculated.
When I finally looked at myself in the mirror, I paused.
Amber eyes stared back at me.
The gown deepened their colour somehow, drawing them forward, making them sharper against my skin. My face looked softer under the careful work of powder and brush.
I studied myself.
I looked... prepared. The royal family may have set me up for failure, but after the lessons I had received, there was no way I was going to let that happen.
Diana stepped back first, as though assessing the final result.
"Your Highness is ready," she said.
Theresa nodded faintly.
Sally said nothing, only lowered her hands.
I rose.
The dress moved with me, trailing softly behind as I turned toward the door.
Theresa stepped forward at once.
"I will guide you," she said.
I said nothing and let her take charge instead.
The corridor outside was quieter than expected. The palace always felt different when one moved through it for a purpose rather than wandering.
Theresa walked slightly ahead.
I followed without question.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
There was only the sound of movement.
Then, very quietly, I noticed something.
We were not turning where we should have.
I knew almost every place in the palace due to how much I had sneaked around... almost, but not all. Still, I knew one thing—
This was not the way to the hall where the interview would be held.
I let out a soft breath.
Then I chuckled.
Theresa slowed instantly.
"Your Highness?" she asked, glancing back quickly.
"You think I a-am a fool, don’t y-you?" I asked gently.
The words were light.
Almost conversational.
But they stopped her completely.
Her shoulders stiffened.
"I—Your Highness, I do not understand—"
I tilted my head slightly, still smiling faintly.
"I b-believe you do," I said.
Then I added, just as softly,
"This is not the way to the hall, is it?"
Theresa’s eyes flicked briefly to the corridor ahead, then away again.
A nervous laugh escaped her.
"That is... not correct, Your Highness," she said carefully. "This is merely a quieter route—"
I stopped walking.
So did she.
Sally and Diana, a few steps behind, also halted.
I turned fully now.
My expression remained calm.
But my voice did not soften.
"Theresa," I said, tilting my head just slightly, "where do you think you are taking me?"
