Chapter 275 – Thorne POV
I sigh. For the tenth time today.
Noelle doesn't flinch. He's too focused—meticulously fussing over the drape of my outer cape, brushing invisible lint off my shoulder with the kind of reverent seriousness reserved for holy relics or silk embroidery.
His fingers skim the gold embroidery that lines the edge of my cloak, checking each polished clasp, each gilded tassel, like this is his own private ceremony.
"Don't pull the long face, Thorne," he murmurs, lips quirking.
"You look like someone just handed you a crown made of nails."
I glance at him through the mirror and deadpan, "They basically did."
Noelle laughs, that warm, breezy sound that always makes something in my chest loosen.
"Please. You've worn a suit soaked in blood with more pride than you're showing now. At least pretend you like being in power."
"I don't," I mutter.
But gods, I do look the part.
