"Look at you!" Luciana boasted as soon as she was done, and Angel had put on the native attire the King sent to her.
She rose to her feet, and Luciana spinned her towards the mirror.
Her breath caught against her chest when she saw her reflection.
She hated it. She hated it more than she hated a lot of other things.
It wasn't because the attire wasn't pretty. It was more because it was a mocking representation of her stolen autonomy.
"You don't like it? Do you want me to change the makeup look?" Luciana asked in a worried voice, when she saw Angel's reaction.
"No. I just want to get this night over with. Thank you, Luciana. Really, I appreciate your efforts. My reaction has absolutely nothing to do with you. I don't want you doubting your talents," she said.
"Are you sure?"
"A hundred percent," she replied, forcing a smile.
A knock sounded on the door, before it opened, and Ivar came in.
"It's ti-me," he stuttered.