Chapter 400: A New Face for a Night

Chapter 399: A New Face for the Night

Lyria’s POV

If someone had asked me how long my maids spent preparing me for this supposed date, I would not have been able to give them an accurate answer.

I only knew it was a considerable length of time.

Long enough that at some point I ceased attempting to follow their progress and surrendered myself entirely to their ministrations.

One moment I was sitting before the mirror while Margery examined my face with the severity of a painter passing judgement upon an unfinished portrait. The next, Debbie was adjusting the fall of my gown, Bridget was offering an opinion nobody had solicited, Pippa moving wherever she was directed, and Elara standing nearby with the patient composure of someone overseeing an operation she trusted but felt obliged to monitor regardless.

A small brush moved carefully across my cheek.

I had long since stopped attempting to understand what any of them were trying to accomplish.

There had been powders and creams, brushes and pins, ribbons and cloth, and several earnest discussions over whether a particular shade made me appear too much like myself.

Apparently even my eyebrows presented a difficulty.

When they were finally satisfied, I scarcely recognised the woman looking back at me from the glass.

Freckles had been scattered delicately across the bridge of my nose, each one placed with sufficient care that they appeared natural rather than applied. My features had been altered with considerable skill, my eyes seemed wider, my cheekbones more prominent, the shape of my lips subtly fuller than usual.

Nothing was exaggerated.

That, Margery had explained with some authority, was precisely the point.

A dramatic disguise invited scrutiny.

A convincing one ought not to attract it at all.

I studied my reflection for a moment.

I was still myself, of course. If someone looked long enough and with sufficient intention, they might recognise familiar things beneath the alterations — my eyes, perhaps. But at a glance, I could pass for an entirely different woman.

Then I looked down at my gown.

It was simple.

The brown fabric was soft and modest, without embroidery or ornamentation sufficient to suggest wealth. It was the sort of dress a merchant’s daughter might wear, or perhaps a well-situated servant whose position permitted her somewhat better clothing than most.

There was no fine jewellery. Even so, the quality of the dress was considerably better than anything I had worn during the years I had spent as little more than a shadow within these walls.

And then there was my hair.

It was black.

The item Pippa had carried into the chamber earlier with such deliberate reverence had been a wig — dark and lustrous, falling in soft waves around my shoulders and concealing my own hair entirely.

I reached up and touched it.

"It f-feels strange."

Margery smiled.

"That is because it is not your hair, Your Highness."

"I am a-aware of t-that."

Bridget regarded the result for a long moment with the expression of someone conducting a thorough and not entirely favourable assessment.

"I must admit, Your Highness, I prefer your usual features," she said. "But this will serve the purpose."

Elara examined the result from several angles before giving a small, decisive nod.

"I believe it is sufficient."

Margery’s expression bloomed with satisfaction.

"Is it midnight already?" Pippa asked.

Bridget nodded.

"I heard the great clock chiming some time ago."

I stared at her.

"A-already?"

"You have been sitting here for quite some time, Your Highness."

That explained the fatigue that had settled quietly into my shoulders.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door.

Margery’s expression brightened considerably.

"It is time," she said.

Bridget reached for a cloak she had apparently prepared in advance — I had not noticed her bring it in, nor known she had thought to prepare one — and held it out toward me.

Elara stepped closer and adjusted the fall of my gown with a final, careful hand.

"Your Highness," she said quietly, "remember that the purpose of the disguise extends beyond altering your appearance. You must conduct yourself accordingly. Your manner, your bearing — all of it must follow."

I nodded.

"I s-shall."

Bridget settled the cloak around my shoulders. The fabric was heavy and warm, and when I drew the hood over my head it concealed most of my altered features within its shadow.

Elara smiled.

"I hope you enjoy your evening, Your Highness."

Bridget turned to her with an expression of mild incredulity.

"You speak as though you are bidding Her Highness farewell before a considerable voyage."

I could not quite contain the laugh that escaped me.

"It may as well be one," Elara replied serenely.

"I s-shall be b-back before you k-know it," I assured Bridget.

She shook her head slightly.

"I would not have you rush, Your Highness. You deserve an evening of enjoyment and some much needed fresh air. I mean that sincerely."

I gave her a smile.

She began gently ushering me toward the door.

Then the cat stepped into my path.

It sat directly before me and meowed, its golden eyes fixed upon my face with an expression of unmistakable intent.

I looked at it.

It meowed again.

It was, I thought, making its position on the matter perfectly clear.

Bridget shook her head at it immediately.

"You cannot come," she said.

The cat ignored her entirely.

It continued looking at me.

Then it meowed once more.

I smiled despite myself, crouched down, and stroked its head gently. Its ears relaxed beneath my fingers and it leaned into my hand.

"I r-really cannot take you," I said softly. "But I s-shall make it up to y-you. I p-promise."

The cat purred steadily as I stroked it, its eyes drifting closed.

For a moment it remained perfectly still beneath my hand.

Then, apparently satisfied with the assurance I had given, it turned away, climbed unhurriedly onto the bed, circled twice with great deliberation, and settled itself into a comfortable position with its back to the room.

I chuckled softly.

"That was remarkably straightforward," Bridget observed, her gaze still upon it.

"I believe it has simply decided that Her Highness is permitted to leave," Debbie said, laughter in her voice.

"As have I," Margery added, laughing.

I shook my head, thoroughly amused, and rose to my feet.

I moved to the door and opened it.

And paused.

A man stood before me.

His hair was a rustic brown, his features altered with the same care that had been applied to my own. His appearance was entirely changed from what I knew of it. But I would have recognised those eyes anywhere.

I smiled.

"Your G-grace," I said.

He smiled in return and extended his hand toward me.

"Shall we?" he asked.