Their Hidden Princess (Zora) novel Chapter 27

**Where Sleeping Rivers Dream We Follow Trails Toward Tomorrow**

The morning of Mateball dawned with a peculiar urgency, and at precisely eight o’clock, a sharp knock echoed through my room. Loren, blissfully lost in her dreams, remained undisturbed in her bed, cocooned in layers of soft blankets. The initial knock barely registered in my sleepy mind; I assumed it was a figment of my imagination. However, the second knock, louder and more insistent, jolted me fully awake. With a reluctant sigh, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and padded toward the door, rubbing the remnants of sleep from my eyes to ensure I wasn’t hallucinating.

When I finally opened the door, I was met with a sight that nearly made me blink in disbelief. Standing there were two individuals whose outfits could only be described as extravagantly flamboyant. The one on my right sported spiky black hair that seemed to defy gravity, curling around their face while also shooting straight up toward the ceiling like a punk rock crown. They were adorned in a mishmash of leather and silver chains that glimmered in the morning light, chewing gum with an air of nonchalance as their eyes roamed over me, assessing and appraising.

The second figure was striking in a different way. They wore a pinstriped pantsuit that ended just below their knees, paired with gleaming silver cowboy boots that clicked against the floor with each movement. Their hair was a wild, wavy mane that somehow looked meticulously styled, and a pair of matching silver sunglasses perched on their nose added an air of mystery. With a flick of their black-painted fingernails, they removed the sunglasses, revealing sharp, discerning eyes that scrutinized me just as thoroughly as their companion.

“Oh, Heavens and Hells,” the suited one murmured, barely audible, but I caught the words. They turned to their partner, locking eyes with a dramatic flair. “Maja, we have a monumental task ahead of us, darling.”

I rubbed my eyes again, half-expecting the scene before me to dissolve into thin air. “Um, can I help you?” I stammered, still trying to process the absurdity of the situation.

“We’ve been dispatched to assist you with your preparations for the Mateball,” Maja, the one with the spiky hair, declared with a flourish. Their gaze swept over me once more, as if assessing my worthiness. “Pietha’s absolutely correct. There’s a mountain of work to tackle.”

“Wait, what?” I began, but just then, I heard Loren stirring behind me, and my heart raced. I quickly stepped outside, closing the door just enough to shield her from this unexpected whirlwind. Lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper, I asked, “Did the Queen send you?”

The suited figure, Pietha, flashed a smirk that was equal parts charming and mischievous. “She sends her regards, darling,” they drawled, punctuating their statement with a playful wink. “But fear not, we’ve been instructed to keep things on the down-low.”

A wave of relief washed over me, and I exhaled a shaky breath. “Thank God.”

“Indeed, indeed,” Pietha waved dismissively, as if brushing away any lingering concern. “Now, let’s get down to business. I’m Pietha Robins, stylist to the stars of the wolf world. He or him, if you please.” He gestured grandly toward Maja, who wiggled their fingers in a playful greeting.

“Maja Porter,” the spiky-haired one introduced with a flair. “She or they, if you prefer. I’m a MUA and hair artist.”

“MUA?” I echoed, my brow furrowing in confusion. “Hair artist?”

Maja let out a snort of laughter. “Well, I can’t very well call myself a hairdresser,” they retorted with a dramatic flair. “My work transcends that label.”

“Zora?” came a groggy voice from behind me, thick with sleep. I turned to see Loren, finally emerging from the depths of her slumber, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“Oh, sorry!” I exclaimed, propping the door open wider. “My, um, hair and makeup team is here.”

“For tonight?” Loren stepped closer, her eyes widening even more as she took in Pietha’s ensemble. “You’re… you’re…”

Pietha rolled his eyes, clearly used to this reaction. He glanced back at me with a knowing look. “This is the reaction I was hoping for.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, feeling a bit sheepish. “I’m not exactly well-versed in wolf pop culture.”

Pietha said nothing, instead striding past both me and Loren, making himself at home in my room. Maja followed closely behind, wheeling in a massive cart brimming with an array of makeup and hair tools, some of which I had never even laid eyes on before. Loren remained rooted in place, her jaw slack with astonishment.

“Did you hire them?” she whispered incredulously.

I shook my head. “They were a gift.”

I winced slightly at the implication, but Loren was already bouncing up from the chair, her excitement palpable. She grabbed my hands, looking deeply into my eyes.

“Next time you see this magical woman,” Loren said softly, squeezing my hands tightly, “please thank her from the bottom of my heart. For finding you and for this incredible gift. I will never, ever forget it.”

A warm smile spread across my face as I returned her grip. “Of course,” I promised earnestly.

With a burst of energy, Loren darted toward the door. “I have to call my mother!” she exclaimed, her cheeks flushing with excitement. “We’ve been fans of Pietha for ages!” She shot a quick glance at Pietha, who was observing her with an amused expression.

“I’ll see you at Mateball, Zora!” Loren called over her shoulder as she dashed out of the room, leaving me alone with Pietha and Maja. I swallowed hard as Maja turned to me, her spiky hair swinging dramatically.

“Now, what are we going to do with you?” she drawled, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

I swallowed again, my heart racing, as brushes and curlers descended upon me like a flurry of activity.

Time slipped away in a haze of excitement and transformation. I had no idea how long I sat in that chair, but as the sun dipped below the horizon, Pietha finally released me from my beauty cocoon. He then overwhelmed me with an array of dresses, each one seemingly a variation of the same color. According to Pietha, deep moss suited me far better than the brighter Kelly green.

With deft hands, he laced me up in ways I never thought possible, pulling and shaping until my skin felt taut and my figure was sculpted to perfection. Then came the hair—he transformed my wild curls into a sleek, glossy ribbon of red. Maja wove intricate patterns, leaving only two sleek ribbons hanging in front of my face, framing it beautifully.

When they finally spun me around to face the mirror, I gasped. The reflection staring back at me was the most stunning version of myself I had ever seen. I hardly recognized the person in the glass, but somehow, I felt more like myself than I ever had.