Chapitre 49: Coming of Age

"Are his majesty's clothes properly pressed?"

"I can't find the right scented oils! It's just roses. His majesty hates roses! I RUINED HIS BIRTHDAY!"

"WHERE ARE HIS MAJESTY'S SHOES?!"

"His hair has grown so much. It's already below his majesty's shoulders. Should we tie it up or braid it? Why am I asking you lot. Braid it is."

"Oh! His majesty's eye bags have improved."

"Would you prefer this hair piece or this one?"

By the time his maids and attendants were done treating Ísar like a living doll, he was the cleanest he'd ever been. Everything, and he really did mean everything, was plucked, trimmed, tied up, covered up and scented.

As soon as his helpers—tormentors—had left him on his own, he stared at himself in the dressing room's mirror and genuinely could not recognize the now 13-year-old boy staring back at him.

His eyebags were covered, his long hair styled in a braid adorned with purple ropes and golden vines.