In a quieter wing of the palace, a small cluster of servants fussed over Mira, smoothing fabrics and adjusting folds as though she were a precious work of art. Unlike the majority of the court, who would surely arrive cloaked in regal shades of crimson and purple, Mira had chosen to stand apart. She wore a gown of cream and gold, elegant in its defiance and designed to catch the eye.
The bodice clung to her form, its silk drawn tight to emphasize the delicate curve of her slender waist. The sleeves, a masterwork of cream silk edged in gilt trim, were crafted in multipart layers, each laced separately so they could be worn or removed at will. Pearls glimmered faintly across the skirts, scattering like droplets of moonlight, while threads of golden lace ran like veins of sunlight through the fabric. At her heart, the bodice bore a central motif, its sequins catching the light with a subtle, enchanting fire.
