The next three days were a whirlwind of preparation. If Lia was to walk into the lion's den, she needed to look the part. Julian, with his typical, understated efficiency, took charge of her transformation.
He didn't take her to the city's fashionable modistes. That would draw too much attention. Instead, he brought the modiste to her—a tiny, bird-like woman with pins in her hair and a measuring tape draped around her neck, who arrived at the safe house under the cover of darkness.
The small study was transformed into a fitting room, filled with bolts of rich silks and velvets in a dazzling array of colors.
"Your new persona is a scholar, quiet and unassuming," Julian said, leaning against the doorframe, watching as the modiste took Lia's measurements. "So, nothing too ostentatious. Elegant, but forgettable."
Lia nodded, but as she looked at the jewel-toned fabrics, a memory from her past life surfaced. A memory of standing in a room just like this, being fitted for a gown for an imperial ball. The Emperor had been there, his eyes full of a possessive, admiring warmth as he chose a deep crimson silk for her. "A color for a queen," he had said. The memory was a shard of glass in her heart.
She pushed it down, her focus returning to the present. "No bright colors," she told the modiste, her voice firm. "Something dark. Midnight blue, or black."
Julian raised an eyebrow. "Black is for mourning, Lia. It will draw questions."
"Then midnight blue," she conceded. "With silver embroidery. Understated."
The dress the modiste created was a masterpiece of subtle elegance. It was cut in a simple, classic style, but the dark blue silk seemed to drink the light, and the delicate silver embroidery, tracing the patterns of constellations, shimmered with a life of its own. It was a dress for a woman who did not need to shout to be noticed. It was armor, woven from silk and starlight.
While her new wardrobe was being created, Lia spent her time in study. She didn't need to learn about the court's politics; she had written most of its rules. But she needed to know the current players, the shifts in allegiance that had occurred since her… departure.
She used the Ledger.
Ledger. Provide a full intelligence briefing on the attendees of the Emperor's banquet. Highlight key threats and potential assets.
[Query Cost: 15 RP. This is a comprehensive social-political analysis.]
It was a small price to pay for survival. Proceed.
[15 RP Spent. Current Balance: 287 RP.]
The information flooded her mind, a perfectly organized dossier of every major noble, guild master, and military commander who would be in that ballroom. She saw their debts, their secret alliances, their hidden weaknesses.
And one name stood out. Lady Seraphina Valerius. A beautiful, ambitious noblewoman from an old, powerful family. In her past life, Seraphina had been one of her chief rivals, a constant thorn in her side, always vying for the Emperor's favor. The Ledger's entry on her was succinct and chilling.
[Lady Seraphina Valerius. Current Status: Primary Candidate for the position of Empress. Known associate of Lord Marcus Reid. High probability of hostility.]
So, Seraphina was still a viper in the garden. And now, she was circling Julian. Lia filed the information away. A threat identified was a threat that could be managed.
On the night of the banquet, Julian arrived at the safe house to escort her. He was dressed in a tailored black coat, the silver head of his sword-cane gleaming in the lamplight. He stopped in the doorway of the study, his breath catching in his throat.
Lia was standing by the window, already in her gown. The midnight blue silk clung to her form, and the silver constellations shimmered as she moved. With her raven hair swept up in an elegant, simple style, and her cool, grey eyes, she was a vision of understated power. The quiet scholar persona was a perfect mask. But he could see the glint of the steel beneath.
"You will be the most beautiful woman in the room," he said, his voice a low, sincere murmur.
"The goal is to be the most invisible," she replied, though a faint, unbidden warmth touched her cheeks at his words. She turned to face him. "Are you ready?"
"I should be asking you that," he said, his expression serious. "Once we walk through those doors, there is no turning back."
"I have been waiting for this moment for two lifetimes," she said, her voice quiet but filled with a terrible, unwavering resolve.
He offered her his arm. As her hand rested in the crook of his elbow, a jolt of unexpected electricity passed between them. It was the first time they had touched since the signing of the contract. It was a simple, formal gesture, but it felt charged with a thousand unspoken things.
They rode to the palace in a handsome, unmarked carriage. The silence between them was not awkward, but filled with a shared, focused tension. They were two soldiers, heading into battle.
As the carriage pulled up to the grand, torch-lit entrance of the Imperial Palace, Lia took a deep, steadying breath. She could feel the familiar, oppressive weight of the palace's power, a feeling she knew as well as her own heartbeat.
"Ready?" Julian asked, his hand briefly covering hers.
She looked at him, at his calm, steady eyes, and felt a flicker of something she had not allowed herself to feel in a very long time. Trust.
"Ready," she said.
The carriage door opened, and they stepped out into the lion's den.