Aria Snow pov :
The corset was tight, pulling my posture perfectly straight, forcing my chin up.
I stood in front of the mirror in the Rose Room, watching as my mother, Helen, secured the final clasps at the back of the midnight-black silk dress. The silver metallic scales that encrusted the bodice felt heavy, cold, and entirely impenetrable. It didn't feel like a gown meant for dancing. It felt like armor forged for war.
"Oh, Ari," my mother whispered, stepping back. Her hands fluttered to her mouth, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "You look... I don't even have the words."
Maya, who was sitting on the edge of the bed in a lovely emerald green dress, let out a low whistle. "You look like you're about to murder someone and look absolutely flawless doing it."
"That's the plan,
