Moonbound: The Rogue's Second Chance-Chapter 208: THANK YOU FOR THE HELP

Serena nodded. She would have to do some digging herself. That would be once she figured out how to sneak around in Ironshade without being followed or watched by sharp eyes. Her first visit would be to that older man, Merek, was it? The one Livia had left her with while running some errand or another, thought she could not quite recall his name. Yes, that would be a wonderful start. He had seemed harmless enough, kind even, in a gruff sort of way.

She glanced at Charlotte through the mirror. The other woman’s eyes were unfocused, fixed on some faraway place. Serena wondered if she had expected to find her alone, and not in the afterglow of an encounter with Livia. It couldn’t have helped her mood.

Charlotte was unusually quiet for a long moment. Her fingers tapped along the edge of the vanity before she spun around with a sharp, impatient sigh. "Must you take so long with your hair? The sun will have fled the skies by the time you decide on which bloody curl you want to pin down."

Serena paused mid-twist and raised a brow. "I am nearly done."

Charlotte scoffed, folding her arms across her bodice. "It is a wonder how they expect you to play the part of a diplomat when you barely look the role. You look soft. No, worse. You look harmless. Like a poet’s widow who wandered into court because she missed her husband too dearly."

Serena blinked once, very slowly. "And what, exactly, is your point?" fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

"My point," Charlotte snapped, stepping closer, "is that it’s plainly obvious even to a blind mule that they intend to drag you into the next round of council talks. You’ve been paraded about, introduced in gardens and teas, and you’ve been eyed like a prized deer by every passing wolf with a badge or title. You think that’s subtle? You think they do not already expect you to speak up soon?"

"I never claimed otherwise," Serena replied, her voice low.

Charlotte threw up her hands. "Then look the part, damn you! You are too... unassuming. Your hair’s flat. Your dress is serviceable, yes, but dull. You’re walking into a den and acting like it’s a picnic."

Serena stood then, turning to face her. Her hands rested on the edge of the vanity with enough tension to make the wood creak. "Mind your tone, Charlotte."

Charlotte’s eyes narrowed. "Why? You want to be respected in that council chamber? Then stop dressing like a schoolgirl attending her uncle’s funeral-"

"Respect yourself, or get out of my room."

The silence that followed was cold and thick. Charlotte’s nostrils flared slightly, but her lips pressed together. She didn’t speak for several breaths.

Then, finally, she looked away. "Fine."

She said nothing more for a while. Instead, she busied herself with lifting the hem of the ambassadorial gown and inspecting the fabric like she hadn’t just insulted Serena half a dozen times. Her fingers traced the embroidery near the cuff. "I still think the sleeves are too plain," she muttered.

Serena did not reply. She merely turned back to the mirror and picked up the final hairpin. The silence between them was stilted, fragile like glass left near the fire too long.

Charlotte cleared her throat. "Do you want help with the back ties?"

Serena hesitated, but only for a second. "Yes. That would be helpful."

Charlotte stepped forward, her earlier mood dampened but not entirely gone. She gathered the fabric gently, and her fingers worked the laces with ease, tugging them into place. The tension between them remained, but it had thinned slightly, dulled by familiarity.

"Breathe in," Charlotte instructed.

Serena did as she said.

She tied the last knot and stepped back, admiring the silhouette with a critical eye. "Better. At least now you look like someone they might listen to before interrupting."

Serena glanced at her in the mirror, her voice cool. "You truly have no filter, do you?"

Charlotte grinned faintly. "It is part of my charm."

"Charm, is it?" Serena smoothed down the front of her skirt and turned. "You might consider exercising some restraint."

"Restraint is for cloistered monks and people who bake bread for a living. Not for those of us in the mud with knives and masks," Charlotte replied. She sounded tired, though, and a little older than usual.

Serena regarded her carefully. "Is everything well with you?"

Charlotte blinked, visibly startled by the question. "What?"

"You came in looking for a fight. I’m wondering if it was really with me or someone else."

For once, Charlotte looked uncertain. Her gaze flicked away and then back again. "I just don’t like being reminded of the things I already know," she said, quieter than before. "Livia showing up, she’s like a needle in the eye. Always was."

Serena didn’t press. She merely nodded. "Thank you for the help."

Charlotte exhaled and moved toward the door. "Don’t thank me. Just make it worth it. If they want a Crimsonclaw ambassador, then give them one they’ll whisper about."

Serena followed her to the threshold, pausing just behind her. "One they fear, or one they trust?"

Charlotte glanced over her shoulder, a rare flicker of something fond softening her gaze. "Same thing, if done right."

Then she slipped out, leaving Serena to stare at the quiet hallway beyond.

The door clicked shut.

Alone again, Serena moved back to the vanity and took one final look at herself. She looked older somehow, with her hair coiled and her gown catching the firelight just so. But her eyes were the same. Still wary. Still carrying the weight of a hundred things unsaid.

She turned away and crossed the room to her desk. A small parcel sat waiting, wrapped in parchment and tied with twine. She had meant to send it off days ago but hadn’t managed the nerve. Carefully, she pulled it closer and began tucking small items inside, a carved button, a polished stone, a red ribbon, a folded paper flower. Simple things. Familiar things.

A gift for Claire.

She smiled to herself. The little girl in Thornridge would no doubt tear through it like a storm. That thought alone brought a strange sense of peace.