[Bridal Chamber—Wedding Day Preparations, One Hour to the Ceremony]
Lucien stood very still.
Too still.
As three imperial attendants arranged by the empress hovered around him with hot irons, golden fabric, and enough makeup brushes to repaint the Sistine Chapel.
"Do not move," one whispered like a threat.
"I'm not possessed," Lucien muttered, watching as yet another brush came dangerously close to his eye.
"You blinked," the stylist snapped.
"I'm allowed to blink!"
"Not when your eyeliner's being blessed."
Lucien blinked again. Deliberately.
The stylist shrieked, and then, after what took an eternity, everyone backed up.
Lucien stood alone now.
Finally.
Miraculously.
Suspiciously.