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“Feelings are hard.”

“What would I do without you?”

Her face falls for a moment, and she opens her mouth to say something, but there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in!” Vivian calls out, ending our conversation.

Two women enter the room weighed down with bags and cases, followed by two more. These must be the stylists Aedon told Vivian about. The first two are twins. Both have long silky black hair and hooded brown eyes. Their warm skin glows under the light from the chandelier.

“Princess.” They curtsy in unison. I want to balk, but I should probably get used to it. A smile plays across Vivian’s face at my displeasure.

Vivian and I have never had this sort of treatment. I mean, stylists? Vivian has always been mine, and we definitely weren’t ever dressing for something this fancy. The thought that this could be a regular occurrence makes me want to throw up, but I put on a brave face and give them a smile.

“Madam Vivian,” they curtsy again.

Vivian gives me a haughty smirk. “Ooh, madam. I like the sound of that.”

“Come with us, Madam Vivian.” The other two girls direct her away from me, leaving me alone with the twins.

They start to sort through bags, glancing up at me, then each other, tossing them aside as they silently converse in monosyllables.

I awkwardly try to make dignified conversation. “What are your names?”

“I’m Leilani, princess,” the one on the left says.

“I’m Kailani, princess,” the other tells me.

“You can just call me Josie,” I placate them. “No need for the princess stuff.”

“She’s funny,” Leilani muses.

“Down to earth,” Kailani adds, sizing me up. “Just what Prince Aedonaeus needs.”

They look at each other and giggle until Kailani pulls out a garment bag with reverence. I’m grateful they’re making the choices because I wouldn’t have the first clue about what to wear.

“We’ve never had a princess in the Underworld, you know.” Leilani seems giddy.

“You’re so beautiful. It’s no wonder he married you,” Kailani says.

“Um, thank you,” I manage to stammer while they undress me. “Do you dress Aedonaeus, too?”

“Oh no,” they both giggle. “We leave that to Ramone. We usually dress the queen,” Kailani explains.

Persephone. They dress fucking Persephone. I shouldn’t be shocked.

“We are your stylists now,” Leilani placates me. “The queen insisted.”

“She insisted?” My eyes widen. My mother-in-law, the queen, insisted. I haven’t even met her.

“Oh, yes. Said no one else would do. We’re happy to do it. It’s an honor.” Kailani helps me step into a sleeveless sparkling black beaded bodice.

“These,” Leilani runs her fingers over my scars, “Are so beautiful. So ancient.”

I tingle with her light touch. She’s right about one thing. They’re archaic, but beautiful? No one has ever called them that either. I’m not sure what to say, so I change the subject. “Have you both always worked for the royal family?”

“Not always,” Kailani says. “But long enough.” She clasps the back together to the point that it suffocates me. They sew the ribbon up my back, closing it up until I feel like I might implode. The bodice holds my breasts up, dipping between them in a deep v. I feel naked with my scars out in the open.

They continue working, chattering about different fashions Persephone has dressed in. They sew me into the dress piece by piece until they’ve finished. I wonder how Vivian is faring. She’s probably having the time of her life, while I’m as stiff as a statue. Once they get to the makeup, I practically black out.