The gown Fiadh eventually chose was a deep, royal blue, the color of the evening sky just after sunset. It was a simpler design than the formal dresses she had worn before, with fewer layers and a lighter fabric that moved with her instead of weighing her down.
It was beautiful.
It also felt like a costume, a role she was playing, a character she was pretending to be.
But it was better than the alternative. And by this point, hardly anything new.
She sat at the vanity, her reflection staring back at her as Fiadh worked on her hair, her fingers nimble and sure as she wove the white strands into an intricate braid.
"You've grown your hair so long, Your Highness," Fiadh said, her voice a soft, wistful murmur. "It's so beautiful. Like spun moonlight."
Moonlight.
