Schnee raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Brother, you're overdoing it," she said, crossing her arms. "That gown is still fine; why go through all this trouble?"
Reynald only smiled wider, seemingly unaffected by Schnee's words. He turned his gaze back to the servant standing before them. "Prepare the perfect attire for Lady Florence," he commanded in an unarguable tone.
The servant looked slightly anxious but quickly responded, "Certainly, Your Grace. We will prepare the best selection."
"Wait, Brother!!!" Schnee interrupted, her voice full of exasperation. "You can't be serious about this!"
The next day, as the afternoon sun cast a golden-orange glow over the Hale residence, Lucian sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the gloves covering his hands with a flat expression. A tingling sensation still lingered in his arms.