The next morning, Sera was given a bath before she was allowed anything else.
Servants said little as they guided her through winding corridors into a warm, steam-filled chamber. Perfumed water waited in a marble tub, silk robes laid neatly nearby. Everything was efficient and polite, as if this were routine.
Once she was clean and dressed in unfamiliar fabrics that clung softly to her skin, she was led into another room, brighter than the rest. Tall mirrors lined the walls. Racks of clothing stood arranged by color and texture, and sunlight spilled freely through open windows.
Someone was already inside.
He leaned against a table, inspecting a length of green fabric between his fingers. When he looked up, his hazel eyes lit with immediate interest.
"Oh," he said lightly, interest clear in his voice. "You are much prettier than they described."
Sera froze.
He smiled, stepping closer, hands loose at his sides. "You must be Sera. I am Lorien."
She hesitated, then placed her hand in his. He lifted it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. A warmth spread through her chest.
"What are you?" she asked, cheeks heating.
"Officially? The royal stylist," he said, letting his gaze travel over her with slow, deliberate attention. "Unofficially… someone who ensures that anyone who sees you won't look away."
Sera blinked. "Meaning?"
"Meaning you will look unforgettable," he said with a playful tilt of his head. Light brown strands fell over his forehead, framing his handsome face. "Come, let's see how perfect we can make you."
She took a step closer, and he held up a measuring tape.
"To do that, I need to measure you properly."
"Properly?"
"Without clothes."
Her stomach flipped, but she nodded. Slowly, she undid her robe, letting it slide down her body and fall to the floor. The cool air brushed against her skin, and Lorien's eyes flicked over her lightly, appraising, approving.
"Stand tall," he said, circling her.
His hands were firm but delicate as they traced her shoulders, sides, and waist. He measured with quick precision, occasionally brushing a palm across her lower back or nape. Sera shivered, not from fear but awareness. Every touch was intentional and suggestive without being invasive.
He was quite the flirt. Perhaps she could use that to her advantage.
"You have excellent posture," he murmured, wrapping the measuring tape around her hips. "And a dangerous sort of grace. Men in power will notice it, though I suspect you already knew that."
She swallowed. "Dangerous?"
Lorien smirked, lifting the tape from her body. He slung it over his shoulders and looked down at her.
"Yes. Beautiful and dangerous. You have the kind of presence that makes people underestimate you at their own peril."
He stepped back and walked to a rack. Beautiful yet simple dresses hung there as he searched. After a moment, he turned, holding up a dark gown threaded with silver.
"This will suit you," he said, his voice low, teasing. "It hints at elegance without being flashy, curves without being vulgar. Perfection in motion. For someone in your… unique position."
Unique position.
Sera realized he must have known what had happened. Did the entire palace know?
She allowed him to help her into the dress. His fingers brushed the small of her back as he fastened the clasps. Every touch made her pulse quicken. He adjusted a sleeve, lightly flicked her hair over her shoulder, and stepped back to appraise her again.
"There," he said, eyes sparkling. "Irresistible. Unforgettable. You are art, and the palace will be your gallery."
Heat rose in her cheeks, but she straightened.
"Do you say this to all the women you style?"
He huffed out a laugh, twirling a strand of her hair around his finger. "Only to those who earn my attention."
Her brow lifted. "I'm flattered."
Outside the room, where the door was partially open, two maids peeked inside, watching and listening.
"Who is that girl?" one whispered, her tone sharp.
"No idea," the other replied, frowning. "I heard she arrived last night with the Duke. But look at the way Lorien is touching her… like she's special."
One of them, Amanda, clenched her fists, teeth gritting. "She's nothing," she hissed, jealousy burning in her chest. "And if she is something, I hope she's ready for her life to be hell."
Inside the room, Lorien helped Sera step off the platform.
"You're in for a treat," he said lightly, "but I have a feeling you're a fast learner."
"What kind of treat?" she asked curiously.
Lorien smirked and leaned closer. Her heart hammered as the heat of his body brushed her skin.
"Only the best kind," he murmured, "and I can't wait to get a taste."
Sera met his gaze, unwilling to back down, letting the fire of his attention mingle with the flame building inside her.
"I can't wait either," she said softly, her voice carrying just enough confidence to be noticed.
Lorien's smile widened, pleased. "Good. That fire will serve you well."
As she left the room, dressed, measured, and reminded of her effect on those around her, Sera felt a renewed surge of purpose. Every glance, every whisper, every touch, even playful, was part of a strategy.
And with Lorien's help, she would be more than useful.
She was ready.