The sun had barely cleared the rooftops when Shen Miao stood before her mirror.
Behind her, Bai Yue and Bai Yin held up two robes—one in soft apricot, one in pale jade green. Both were beautiful. Neither felt right.
"The apricot brings out your complexion, Miss," Bai Yue offered.
"The green matches your hairpin," Bai Yin countered.
Shen Miao touched the hairpin tucked into her sleeve—the one her brother had given her. Light green with dangling flowers. She hadn't worn it yet. She had been saving it for something special.
"The green," she said quietly.
Bai Yin smiled and set to work. Bai Yue sighed but helped her sister, smoothing the fabric over Shen Miao's shoulders.
"Young Master will be proud," Bai Yue murmured.
Shen Miao's cheeks warmed. "He'll probably just nod and say 'appropriate.'"
Bai Yin snorted. Bai Yue elbowed her.
But no one disagreed.
---
In the training courtyard, Shen Yao moved through his forms.
His breath was even, his muscles warm. The sword cut the morning air in clean arcs. For a few moments, there was nothing but the rhythm of his body and the whisper of the blade.
The cold had not returned since that night—or that dream, whichever it was. He didn't speak of it. Neither did Yu Xie. The shadow soldier had been more present lately, hovering at the edges of his vision, never speaking unless spoken to.
He finished the last form, sheathed his sword, and rolled his shoulders. The familiar ache was there—not from training. Something deeper. Older.
He pressed two fingers to his wrist. His pulse was steady. Slower than it should be, perhaps. But steady.
"Still there," he thought. "Still the same."
He dropped his hand and reached for the tea that Xi Shu was already carrying toward him.
"Shen Miao?"
Xi Shu nodded. "She had the kitchen prepare them before she started getting ready."
Shen Yao looked at the snacks for a moment. Then he ate one. He didn't say anything, but Xi Shu noticed the slight softening around his eyes.
"Young Master will attend the banquet?"
Shen Yao set down the empty cup. "I don't have a choice."
"Young Master always has a choice."
Shen Yao glanced at him—a rare, almost dry look. "The princess was my mother's friend. She invited my sister. If I don't go, questions will be asked." He picked up his sword again. "It's easier to attend than to explain why I didn't."
Xi Shu bowed his head. "I will prepare your robes. Dark blue, as you requested."
Shen Yao nodded. "And Xi Shu."
"Yes?"
"Stay close to Shen Miao tonight. Not obvious. Just... close."
Xi Shu's expression flickered surprise, then understanding. "Of course, Young Master."
He left, and Shen Yao stood alone in the courtyard, looking up at the pale morning sky.