The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 19

Across the back of the emerald velvet couch, three dresses were draped like treasures from another world. I froze in the doorway, staring at them. Silk and sequins shimmered beneath the lamplight, colors catching the glow in dazzling ways I had never seen up close before.

The butler gestured smoothly. “Elder Thora requests that you dress for dinner and join her downstairs in the bar. She wishes to speak with you about your future.” His voice was polite, but there was weight in the words that made my stomach twist.

My… future?

I nodded faintly, stepping closer. The dresses looked like something meant for Lunas or princesses, not for me. My fingers twitched at my sides, afraid to even touch them.

The butler lifted the first one carefully from the couch. A soft baby blue dress, the bodice scattered with sparkles that glittered like starlight. The skirt fell just below the knees, light and airy, with delicate puffed straps at the shoulders.

“This one,” the butler said, his tone almost approving. “The blue would complement your skin beautifully, softening your features and drawing out the brightness in your eyes. The sparkles on the bodice catch the light in a way that would make you look like you’re glowing.” He adjusted the straps gently with his gloved fingers. “And these puffy sleeves would cover your shoulders modestly, giving you a sweetness that is very rare. You would look radiant, youthful—like the sky at dawn.

My breath caught, and for a moment I could almost see it—me, glowing. Not the beaten-down servant girl, but someone else entirely. Still, I hugged the robe tighter around me, unsure.

The butler set the blue dress aside with reverence and lifted the next: a deep green mermaid gown. The fabric shimmered faintly as he held it up, hugging the body down to the knees before flaring out dramatically. The neckline was low enough to bare my collarbones, the shoulders exposed entirely.

“This one,” he continued, his tone thoughtful, “would show off your curves—there is no denying you have them. It hugs the body in all the right places, accentuating your shape. The shoulders would be bare, and the lines of the gown would make you look taller, statuesque even.” He tilted the fabric to catch the light. “The shimmer is subtle, elegant. In this, you would look mature, poised—commanding attention without effort.”

Then he paused, lips pressing together in faint disapproval. “But green, I think… is not your color. It fights against your natural tones. It would not do justice to your skin or your hair. It would hide your legs entirely, when your grace lies partly in their strength. It is beautiful, yes—but not for you.”

I swallowed, both relieved and disappointed.

Finally, he reached for the last dress. The moment he unfolded it, my breath caught.

A black gown, the fabric heavy with sparkles that glittered like stars scattered across midnight. It was long and sleek, the neckline dipping just enough to show the line of my shoulders. A daring slit ran up one side, promising flashes of leg with every step. It was bold. Unapologetic.

The butler’s face softened as he held it up, his voice warm, certain. “This,” he said simply. “This is yours.”

I stared at it, heart pounding, unsure whether to step forward or back.

“The black,” he explained, “is striking against your skin, a contrast that will draw every eye in the room. The sparkles will catch the light with every move you make, making it seem as though the stars themselves follow you. The open shoulders show your strength, unhidden, while the slit reminds them you are not fragile. This dress will not bury you in modesty or dull you in the wrong color. It will make you stand out.”

His eyes met mine for the first time, steady and unwavering. “You were not meant to fade into the background, Miss Kira. Not tonight. Not ever.”

The robe suddenly felt too heavy on my shoulders, my skin too hot. I clutched the tie at my waist, staring at the gown as though it might burn me. A dress like that… on me? The thought was terrifying. But also… intoxicating.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel like I was being dressed to serve or to hide. I was being dressed to be seen.

The robe felt unbearably heavy now, suffocating against my damp skin. My gaze locked on the black dress, the way it shimmered like midnight spun with stars. I couldn’t breathe. It was too much—for me, for who I was.

The butler, composed as ever, moved with deliberate grace to the bed. Without a word, he laid out a matching set of black lingerie—a delicate bra with lace edging and a pair of soft, silken underwear. Next to them, he placed strappy black heels, three inches high with a slender band across the toes and a sparkling silver buckle that winked in the lamplight.

My mouth went dry.

“These will complete the look,” he said calmly, his tone polite but firm. He smoothed the fabric of the dress one final time, then gestured toward the bathroom. “I will excuse myself while you change. Take your time.”

My chest tightened. My thoughts darted to the tub, to the dirty bathwater still swirling there, gray with the filth I had scrubbed from my skin. Panic twisted in my stomach. Would he see it? Would he know just how unworthy I truly was? But there was nothing I could do.

As the bathroom door clicked shut, I forced myself into motion.