Violet had no idea how she managed to sleep through the loudness in her head and the unrest in her soul, but somehow, she did.

And now, it was the day of the competition.

Not even Alaric or Asher had returned to their quarters last night, and she had barely lifted her head off the bed when Lila practically barged into her room with a group of Fae in tow.

"Good morning, Princess Violet," Lila said in the polished, overly polite tone she had adopted ever since stepping into the Fae Realm. "The attendants here will make sure you’re prim and proper for the trial. We don’t have much time left, so move."

As if they were carrying out some military operation, the Fae, all four of them, grabbed her by the arms and hauled her off the bed.

"Wait! Where’s—" Violet started to ask about her mates, but she was already cut off as they dragged her straight into the bathroom.

While some poured oils and perfumes she had no idea the purpose of into a tub of steaming water, the others were already stripping her with efficient, urgent hands.

Everything was happening too fast.

"I have hands! I can—!"

All of Violet’s protests died the second they dunked her into the water and began scrubbing her like she was a stubborn child being prepared for an important event.

None of them said a word to her.

Their lips stayed pressed thin, their eyes focused with alarming concentration, as if bathing her was a matter of national importance.

It was funny how scenes like this always looked glamorous in movies and books, all elegant hands and royal treatment. In real life? It was awkward as hell.

Violet felt hands reaching and touching places no one other than herself should be touching, but thankfully, they were at least methodical about it and not deriving any sort of perverse delight from the whole thing.

That was the only thing keeping her from kicking someone in the throat.

They shaved and cleaned her so thoroughly there wasn’t a single strand of hair left on her body aside from the ones on her head and brows.

Violet couldn’t help but wonder if their ancestors had personally declared war on body hair or something.

By the time they were done, Violet was scrubbed, oiled, polished, and preened like a chicken prepared for Thanksgiving.

They dried her off and still didn’t give her a robe, marching her naked straight into the next room where Lila was already speaking to another set of Fae who must have arrived while she had been getting scrubbed like a sacrificial goat.

"Commander Lilarin," one of the attendants announced, presenting Violet.

Violet immediately wrapped an arm across her chest, her expression dark and deeply unimpressed.

She felt Lila’s eyes drag over her body in a slow, assessing sweep and nearly hissed. The Fae gave a single nod of approval.

As soon as she did, a robe was finally placed over Violet’s shoulders and the relief that left her was embarrassingly immediate.

She snatched it shut around herself like she was reclaiming her dignity by force.

"Alright," Violet said sharply, glaring at all of them. "Can someone finally tell me what the hell is going on?"

She added immediately, "And where are my mates?"

Lila answered in that maddeningly calm tone of hers, "It is customary for the princess to be thoroughly cleansed before the trial for good luck. In that sense, your mates cannot be allowed near you so they do not disrupt the energy until we are done here."

Violet stared at her. Then deadpanned, "Yeah, I feel incredibly cleansed."

Her tone dripped with sarcasm.

She shifted in place, resisting the urge to scratch at her own arms. Her skin felt too bare and exposed as if every inch of her body had suddenly become overaware of the air touching it.

It was deeply unsettling.

Honestly, if this was what Fae people considered sacred preparation, then they were all clinically insane.

"What next?" Violet sassed, knowing deep down this wasn’t the end of it.

It was another Fae, the one with pointed ears and fiery red hair, who answered in an accented tone, "Princess must wear her outfit. It was specifically requested by Queen Seraphira for Princess."

That was when Violet looked down at the bed and finally saw the costume laid out for her. And just like that, every sarcastic remark died in her throat.

It was a suit. A fitted black combat piece that looked like it had been molded directly for her body, sleek and elegant in a way that made it look like something a dark goddess would wear to war.

Deep violet detailing curved across the chest, waist, and thighs in patterns that caught the light, while the shoulders carried a subtle structure that gave it a regal, commanding feel without looking bulky.

At the back was a clean slit built perfectly into the design for her wings, should there be a need for it.

Violet stepped closer slowly, almost cautiously, as though touching it might somehow make it disappear. She brushed her fingers over the material and stilled.

It was unlike anything she had ever felt before. Smooth, cool and strangely soft beneath her fingertips, yet there was an unmistakable toughness beneath it, as if there was steel hidden under the silk.

The Fae with the accent went on saying, pride in her voice, "It was made from the scales of the toughest merfolk in the eastern waters. Her Majesty had it made in secret. She wanted the princess protected."

Violet looked up at her, suddenly speechless.

The Fae continued, "No weapon from the Fae land should be able to pierce it. You would be protected, princess."

Violet’s throat tightened unexpectedly. For the first time her mother had thought of protecting her in a reasonable way.

"It’s beautiful." That was all she could say.

Lila, who had been watching from the side, allowed herself the smallest smile.

"Now," she said, clapping her hands with finality. "Dress the princess. It’s time the Fae Realm knows what they’re up against."