Combs moved gently through Zarah's blonde hair, brushing and gathering it into a half-up, half-down style.
Morning light filtered through the open window, washing the room in soft gold.
A woman of about twenty-nine fastened the sapphire pendant around Zarah's neck, securing the clasp before stepping back to admire her handiwork in the mirror.
"Well now," she said brightly, clasping her hands together. "Just look at you. You're absolutely lovely."
Zarah studied her reflection in the mirror and wondered if this was how she had always been meant to look.
Beautiful.
Almost noble — if not for the fact that she was a flower maiden.
Her gaze dropped to the sapphire pendant resting against the burgundy fabric of her dress.
The girl whose body she wore — the original Zarah — had been born to the noble house of the Duchy of Zepher.
A noble by birthright.
Unaware of it.
Dead by the age of six.
She had never lived long enough to sit before a mirror like this.
Zarah had told herself, many times, that surviving beyond that age was not a theft.
She lived because she endured.
Because she survived.
But staring at the girl in the glass now, doubt crept in.
Was this the life the original Zarah would have had?
Had she stepped into another's body and never once stopped to ask what had truly happened to its first owner?
Zarah's fingers curled into a fist as she drew in a steady breath.
No.
She had not stolen anything.
She had awakened in this body as an infant. She had lived every year of its life. Whatever this body had once been, it had been hers for far longer now.
Perhaps in another life it belonged to the Zarah from the webcomic — the child who died at six.
But that girl was gone.
This Zarah was not.
What was hers, she would reclaim.
The prophesied daughter of House Zepher was still alive.
She would prove it.
But not yet.
First, the Empress had to live.
Only then could she use her knowledge of the webcomic — of the future — as leverage. Sebastian Zepher had been blessed: his child was said to possess the sight to see the future of the rightful heir to the throne.
And Ines was already Empress.
If Zarah revealed the knowledge she carried, she could pass as that blessed child.
Because she was.
This body had always been Sebastian's daughter's.
But if Melody discovered she was not the noble she believed herself to be — if Alexander shifted his plans too soon — saving Ines would become far more difficult.
Timing was everything.
"Zarah, do you not like it?" the girl beside her finally asked, breaking her from her thoughts.
Zarah blinked and shook her head quickly. "No, no — I love it. Thank you, Amy," she said with a soft smile.
Amy beamed before moving toward Iris, whose hair had just been finished.
Four dressing tables had been arranged side by side along the wall.
Iris glanced at Zarah and grinned. "My, my. You look like a true beauty."
Zarah smirked, letting her gaze travel over Iris's navy gown. "Says the one who looks like a fairy."
"Oh, hush," Iris waved her hand, laughter spilling from her lips.
"You both look plain compared to me," Celine declared proudly from the side.
Zarah turned toward her.
Celine, in her mustard-yellow dress, did look stunning. That was undeniable.
"Yes," Zarah said lightly, "like a dragonfly."
Celine's head snapped toward her. "Are you calling me an insect?" she hissed.
"What? No, I meant—"
"Oh, Zarah," Melody interrupted smoothly, as one of the younger girls fastened a diamond bracelet around her wrist. "How could you say that to poor Celine?"
That only seemed to inflame her further.
"No! Melody, stop twisting my words. I meant she looks beautiful," Zarah insisted.
The girl attempting to secure Celine's hair tugged a little too sharply as Celine jerked her head.
Celine's eyes darkened, anger rising—
But Iris cut in before she could speak.
"Dragonflies are beautiful," Iris said firmly. "Their wings look like stained glass. They are ancient creatures — older than most things in this world. They're not just beautiful. They're ethereal."
Her gaze remained fixed on Celine.
"You look that beautiful."
Something in Iris's stare carried a weight she did not fully understand.
She did not like Celine — not truly. Celine had been cruel, sharp-tongued, unfair.
And yet, looking at her now…
Ethereal was the only word that fit.
Zarah caught the look and felt a flicker of amusement.
Could it be?
But how would that even be possible?
And would Celine ever return it?
Celine's gaze locked with Iris's.
For a brief moment, the usual sharpness in her eyes softened — just slightly — before she looked away.
She did not thank Iris.
Why would she?
She already knew she was beautiful. Beautiful enough, perhaps, to catch even the Empress's eye. There was no need to thank someone for stating the obvious.
And yet…
A quiet flicker of pride stirred in her chest at being described that way.
Across the room, Melody noticed.
Her expression cooled.
This was not ideal.
Celine was useful. Volatile, yes — but useful. And though Melody intended to discard her eventually, she did not appreciate her pawns drifting beyond her influence.
"Celine," Melody called sweetly, "won't you look in the mirror? Mira has fixed your hair again."
Celine examined her reflection and smiled. "Well, it's even better than before," she declared.
"Yes, you look lovely," Melody replied, as Amy moved to sit beside her and began painting her nails.
Zarah tuned out their exchange and glanced toward Iris, who was staring thoughtfully at the array of nail polishes laid out before her.
"Are you going to keep staring at them," Zarah asked lightly, "or actually choose one?"
"I don't think I want to wear any," Iris admitted. "What about you?"
"Same," Zarah said. "I'd rather not."
Iris sighed. "I always end up smudging it. Or getting it on my dress before it dries."
Zarah laughed softly and nudged her shoulder. "A true tragedy."
Iris huffed in mock offense.
Gradually, the room settled into quiet conversation once more — the soft clink of jewelry, the faint scent of polish, the murmur of girls preparing for a future none of them could fully predict.
The hours ticked by slowly, each one stretching thinner than the last, until at last the time came to board the carriages sent by the palace.
"Girls, remember — no scenes, no mistakes, and definitely no scandals," Jennifer warned, her sharp gaze sweeping over the four flower maidens.
Halley placed a reassuring hand on Jennifer's shoulder. "Come now. We're sending our most troublesome batch yet. If they've made it this far, they can survive the palace."
Jennifer exhaled slowly. "The last thing we want is for the palace to withdraw its support from the brothel."
Zarah smirked.
That was exactly what she intended to make happen.
She would see this wretched place reduced to nothing.
Iris elbowed Zarah lightly.
"Ow— what?" Zarah pouted, turning to glare at her.
"Control your expressions, Zar," Iris murmured, her voice laced with teasing warning.
Zarah rolled her eyes but forced a composed smile.
Halley approached them.
"Zarah? Iris?" she called gently.
Both girls turned toward her at once.
"Yes, Miss Halley?" they replied in unison.
The older woman studied them for a moment, something soft flickering in her eyes.
"I never properly thanked you," she said quietly, leaning closer. "For not mentioning that I helped you plan that escape when you were twelve." Her lips curved faintly. "But I want you both to know… out of all the girls who've stayed here over the years, you two are my favorites."
At that, Iris and Zarah immediately stepped forward and wrapped their arms around her.
Halley staggered back slightly, laughing under her breath.
"Now, now — careful," she scolded fondly. "I'm getting old, and I still need my back if I'm to continue working as a nurse."
All three of them laughed.
Soon, Julie returned after ensuring everything had been properly loaded, and one by one the four girls boarded the carriage.
Celine stepped in first.
Melody followed, her off-white dress catching briefly on the carriage step before she carefully freed it with a faint look of irritation.
Then came Zarah and Iris.
As the carriage lurched forward, Zarah turned to the window and drew in a slow breath.
With every turn of the wheels, they moved closer to the palace.
And no matter how prepared she believed herself to be, the thought of entering the Imperial Palace was enough to make anyone's heart tremble.