Chapter 380

• “Ready?”
• I glance up from the mirror. Staring at myself isn’t going to fix any of the myriad flaws I suddenly find with my appearance, which has been impeccably styled by a gaggle of strangers who brushed and blushed and zipped and tucked me into the regal woman in my reflection.
• Clare stands at the door, looking more like a queen than I ever will. She wears a gown with a similar cut to mine, a faux-Tudor look with heavy brocade trumpet sleeves and a tight bodice with a low, square neck. My skirt is a little fuller than hers, and mine is white and gold where hers is pale yellow; when we walk out of my sitting room—currently a staging area for all the preparation that went into my look—we make a swishing sound.