Chapter 402: Chapter 402: The Wardrobe
Liam should have known better than to let Ayla into the imperial wardrobe.
He had never properly explored it himself.
The wardrobe attached to the imperial suite was large enough to be considered a series of rooms rather than a single dressing area, with modern cabinets added around older sections preserved from Goliath’s reign. One entire side belonged to the historical imperial collection: ceremonial garments, jewelry, formal insignia, and pieces once worn by members of the imperial household, all protected behind climate-controlled doors and preservation fields.
Liam had lived beside it for months without caring.
During his first weeks in Nuria, before Rubis understood what he liked, Liam’s relationship with the wardrobe had been simple. He entered, took the nearest acceptable shirt and trousers, and left.
Rubis had eventually observed this behavior with visible horror and begun arranging everything beforehand.
Since then, Liam had stopped thinking about the problem entirely.
Samuel had taken one glance at the wardrobe earlier that afternoon, announced that he knew how to dress himself, and returned to his guest rooms.
Ayla had followed Liam inside.
That should have been the warning.
"This is obscene."
Liam stood before the section Rubis had prepared for that evening, examining a dark violet jacket.
"It is a wardrobe."
"This is larger than my room."
"That sounds like a complaint you should direct toward imperial architects who died centuries ago."
Ayla walked farther inside, brushing her fingers over one cabinet before stopping in front of the older wing.
Unlike Liam’s everyday clothing, those doors were made from dark polished wood bordered with old gold, their preservation seals glowing faintly along the frames.
"What is in here?"
"Old things."
She looked back at him.
"That was extremely informative."
"Official clothing. Goliath’s household, former sovereigns, consorts, ceremonial pieces. I don’t know."
"You don’t know?"
"I told you. I never looked."
That was apparently the worst possible answer.
Ayla opened the first door.
"Ayla."
"It opened."
"That does not mean you should enter it."
"You live here."
"That is not how preservation works."
She had already disappeared between the hanging garments.
Liam sighed and returned to the jacket Rubis had selected.
Behind him came the soft movement of fabric, followed by silence.
Liam stopped.
He had learned quickly that Ayla becoming quiet generally meant she had found something.
"What?"
No response.
He turned.
Ayla emerged holding a shirt.
Liam stared.
That was not one of his.
The garment was black, although the fabric was so fine that the warm dressing-room lights passed through it. It had long sleeves gathered narrowly at the wrists, a loose body designed to fall softly, and a low, open neckline edged in delicate gold embroidery. Additional threads followed the shoulders and cuffs in patterns Liam recognized as old Nurian imperial work.
The material was sheer enough that whoever wore it would have been very aware of what was visible beneath.
Ayla lifted it higher.
"What is this?"
Liam frowned.
"Something historical."
"Obviously."
He approached.
A small archival tag hung discreetly inside the collar, marked with the imperial preservation crest rather than a modern inventory number.
Recognition came slowly.
"Rubis showed me something similar once."
"Whose?"
"Hugo’s style."
Ayla looked at him.
Liam touched the sleeve carefully.
"Hugo was one of Goliath’s consorts. Rubis said he preferred softer fabrics and clothes like this when the court was less formal. Some of the consorts’ official wardrobes were preserved with the imperial household collections."
The original pieces themselves were far too old and important to wear casually, but Liam knew the preservation wing also contained reconstructed garments made from archival patterns, intended for ceremonial exhibitions or use by later members of the imperial family.
He checked the tag.
Replica.
Of course.
Ayla was already smiling.
"No."
"I did not say anything."
"You are holding it like you intend to."
"Wear it."
"No."
"Why?"
Liam stared at the transparent fabric.
"Because I would like to attend the gathering clothed."
"You would be clothed."
"Technically."
Ayla held the shirt against his chest.
The black fabric immediately made the crimson of his eyes appear brighter in the mirror behind them, while the gold embroidery echoed the mate stone resting at his throat.
Unfortunately, it looked good.
Very good.
Liam frowned at his reflection.
Ayla noticed.
"You like it."
"I am evaluating it."
"That is your version of liking something."
"It is sheer."
"That appears intentional."
"It is definitely intentional."
He remembered Rubis explaining that Goliath’s court had been considerably less conservative about consort fashion than later courts liked to pretend. Hugo, in particular, had apparently favored flowing translucent shirts beneath coats, fitted trousers, jewelry at the throat, and fabrics designed more to frame the body than conceal it.
At the time, Liam had assumed Rubis was providing historical context.
He now suspected the man had been planting ideas.
Ayla was digging through the same section again.
"Here."
She produced a pair of high-waisted black trousers with a narrow gold stripe running down each outer seam.
Those were considerably more reasonable.
Then came a fitted sleeveless vest, also black, designed to remain open enough that the sheer shirt beneath would still be visible.
Liam looked at the combination.
"No."
"Try it."
"I already said no."
"You also said you had never explored this section."
"That was not permission."
Ayla smiled sweetly.
Liam knew that expression from Enia.
It was dangerous.
Ten minutes later, he stood in front of the full-length mirror, regretting every decision that had brought him there.
The trousers fit perfectly.
The sheer shirt did too.
Its fabric softened the shape of his torso without hiding much; black transparency interrupted only by gold embroidery curling around the cuffs and neckline. The vest added enough structure to keep the outfit from looking unfinished, but not enough to restore Liam’s sense of modesty.
Ayla circled him.
Liam folded his arms.
"That changes nothing."
"It changes everything."
"I can see my skin through it."
"Yes."
"That was a criticism."
"That was the design."
Liam looked at himself again.
He could understand why Hugo had worn this style.
It was not delicate despite the sheer fabric.
The contrast between transparency, sharp tailoring, and old imperial gold made it look intentionally confident.
More importantly, it did not look like Liam pretending to be Goliath’s dead consort.
It looked like something old Nuria had once considered normal for someone standing beside its emperor.
Ayla adjusted one cuff.
"Arik is going to malfunction."
Liam closed his eyes.
"There it is."
"What?"
"Your actual motivation."
"I have several motivations."
"I regret letting you in here."
"No, you don’t."
"I absolutely do."
The outer door opened.
Rubis entered carrying a tablet.
He took three steps.
Stopped.
His eyes moved from Liam to Ayla, then toward the open historical wardrobe.
A dangerous smile appeared.
Liam pointed at him immediately.
"Do not."
Rubis ignored that.
"That is based on Hugo’s evening wardrobe."
"I know."
"I suggested that style months ago."
"You suggested many things."
"And you rejected all of them."
"I had good instincts."
Ayla looked delighted.
Rubis walked closer and adjusted the vest by less than a centimeter.
"Keep it."
Liam stared at him.
"You are supposed to help me."
"I am."
"You are siding with her."
"I am siding with the clothing."
Liam looked back at the mirror.
Then at the violet jacket lying safely on the bench.
He could still change.
He probably should.
Unfortunately, one thought had already taken root.
Arik had never seen him dressed like this.
Ayla caught his expression.
Her grin widened.
"You’re wearing it."
Liam sighed.
The evening had not even started, and he was already regretting his siblings’ visit.