She halted. Her body, the fake princess's body, the borrowed robes, froze. Her dark eyes, wide, found the source.
The eldest prince. The scholarly man in white and silver robes. Her senior brother. The Divine Integration cultivator stood in the corridor, his sharp eyes, his handsome face, his composed expression, looking at her.
She acted. The performance, the deception, was instant. Her dark eyes, wide, confused, blinked. Her body, the posture, shifted. The confusion, the innocence, the act of a woman who didn't know what was happening, was played.
"Who? Me?" she said. Her musical voice, the princess's voice, was pitch-perfect. The same tone, the same cadence, the same inflection. The twin, the identical bloodline, made the voice indistinguishable.
"Indeed," the elder said. His sharp eyes, on her, narrowed. The suspicion, the doubt, was in his gaze. "You aren't you. Hiding too much from me."
She blinked. Her dark eyes, wide, innocent, held the confusion. "It does not matter."
