The Villainess Wants To Retire Chapter 156: Preparation

The knocking started sowhere far away, a sound that belonged to a different world than the one I currently inhabited.

I tried to ignore it, clinging to the warm darkness of sleep, but it persisted. Grew louder. More insistent. Accompanied by a voice, muffled but audible, speaking words that my mind refused to process.

"Lady Eris? My lady, please, we need to—"

I opened my eyes.

The room had transford. Where afternoon light had painted everything gold, now twilight pressed against the windows, purple and blue and the faint shimr of early stars. Hours had passed. More than I’d intended. Significantly more.

The knocking ca again, more frantic now.

"Enter," I called, my voice rough with sleep.

The door opened imdiately, releasing a small flood of servants who moved with the kind of organized panic that suggested I’d committed so grave social error by sleeping through whatever I was supposed to be doing.

"My lady, forgive us, but the feast, it begins in less than an hour and you’re not yet—" The lead servant, an older woman with silver hair and the brisk efficiency of soone who had probably been managing noble ladies since before I was born, cut herself off as she took in my appearance. Still fully dressed. Hair presumably a disaster. Definitely not ready for any kind of formal event.

Her expression suggested this was possibly the worst crisis she’d ever faced.

"Right," I said, sitting up and trying to orient myself. "The feast. Of course."

What followed was controlled chaos.

I was ushered toward what turned out to be a bathing chamber connected to the bedroom, a room I hadn’t even noticed in my earlier exhaustion. It was, like everything else in this palace, beautiful in its simplicity. A large bath carved from what appeared to be a single piece of pale blue stone, already filled with steaming water that slled faintly of winter roses.

The servants moved around with practiced efficiency, helping out of my travel-worn clothing, testing the water temperature, adding oils that turned the surface iridescent. I let them work, too tired to protest and honestly too grateful for the hot water to care about the loss of privacy.

The bath was glorious. Hot enough to make my muscles unclench, scented enough to be pleasant without being overwhelming, deep enough that I could actually subrge completely if I wanted to. I sank into it with a sigh that was probably undignified but entirely warranted.

The servants washed my hair, their hands gentle but thorough, working through travel tangles with patience I wouldn’t have managed myself. Soone scrubbed my back. Soone else attended to my hands, removing the last traces of road dust from beneath my nails. It was almost ditative, being cared for like this, though part of kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Too soon, I was being guided out, wrapped in towels soft as clouds, led back to the bedroom where a dress had been laid out on the bed.

I stopped when I saw it.

"That’s... bold," I managed.

The servant smiled, though there was sothing apologetic in it. "His Majesty specified that your wardrobe should reflect your status as his future empress. The seamstresses worked from the asurents sent ahead, but if anything doesn’t fit—"

"Let’s find out," I interrupted, already knowing this was going to be interesting.

The dress was stunning, I’d give them that. Deep crimson, because apparently even Nevareth’s tailors understood that putting in ice blue would be asking for trouble. The fabric was so kind of silk that seed to shift colors slightly as it moved, catching light and throwing it back in shades of wine and blood and rose.

The design was elegant, fitted through the bodice and waist before flowing into a skirt that would allow movent without being cumberso. Sleeves that looked like they’d been crafted from liquid silver, sohow both substantial and gossar. A neckline that was...

I put it on with the servants’ help, and imdiately understood the problem.

The neckline was designed to be daring, certainly. Low enough to suggest rather than reveal, the kind of thing that walked the line between elegant and scandalous with practiced precision.

Except the seamstresses had apparently underestimated exactly how much they needed to account for.

My breasts, as they had throughout this entire journey, seed determined to make their presence known. They strained against the bodice, threatening to spill over with every breath, turning "daring" into "structural impossibility."

"Well," I said, looking down at myself with resignation, "I suppose we’re making a statent."

The lead servant made a strangled sound that might have been horror or suppressed laughter. "We can adjust, my lady, if you’d like to—"

"There’s no ti," I said, which was true. "But do make a note to inform the seamstresses that their usual asurents appear to be... insufficient. For future garnts."

"Of course, my lady."

They finished quickly after that, adding jewelry that was rcifully understated, just a silver chain with a single ruby pendant that nestled in the valley between my breasts like it had been designed specifically for that purpose. My hair was arranged in sothing elaborate that I couldn’t see but felt secure, and soone applied subtle costics that enhanced rather than masked.

When they finally stepped back, allowing to see myself in the full mirror, I almost didn’t recognize the woman looking back.

She looked like an empress. Powerful. Beautiful. Dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with fire and everything to do with the kind of confidence that ca from knowing exactly what weapons you possessed and how to deploy them.

"Perfect," the lead servant declared, and though I wasn’t sure I agreed, I couldn’t deny the effect was impressive.

"Where is the feast being held?" I asked.

"The Winter Hall, my lady. His Majesty is waiting to escort you."

Of course he was.

I took a breath, settled my shoulders, and prepared myself for whatever the evening would bring.

The ga, after all, was only just beginning.