“I’ve never had a reason to, Mrs. Cantini.”
“I will have none of that. You’re family now. Please call me Viola.” She rested her glass on the table and sat with pristine posture. “Corsets were meant to beautify women—a way to reshape their bodies into something more appealing. Sometimes as many as fifty laces pulled so tight it cut blood circulation, especially for the stubby ones. Tight enough that it feels like you can’t breathe. A strong woman with proper genes could do many things in her corset, but the weak would faint by night’s end. Hence the purpose of the fainting couch.”
“This is one theory,” Cyrus muttered into his glass with a chuckle.
I turned my eyes away, resisting the urge to show my annoyance with her.
It was an insult for her to believe a designer such as myself, who had created over a hundred dresses for the Founder’s Day Ball in the last decade, didn’t know a thing about corsets.
“It’s a shame to know it was a woman who introduced it,” I finally said.
Viola raised a brow. “Why is this a shame?”
“Women should embrace their curves. Not cut them off.”
“Well, that’s an ignorant thing to say, coming from someone like you.”
My mouth parted in disbelief. “Someone like me?”
“Mother,” Cyrus warned, eyes navy.
“What? Adora has a perfect figure to match her flawless face. She has nothing to be self-conscious about. She has no idea what it’s like to be a woman who doesn’t feel comfortable in her skin. Take your sister, for instance ...” And she was right as shame filled me.
Cyrus stiffened in his chair. “Let’s not speak of those who aren’t here to defend themselves.” He raised his glass to his mouth. “Besides, the last thing Camora would want to be seen in is a dress.”
“I’m only speaking the truth, Cyrus, and do not remind me.” Viola cleared her throat and fixed her sour expression before returning to me. “Every woman should own one, no matter what shape she is. I can purchase whatever fabrics, wires, and ribbons you’ll need to make one for the announcement.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I have to decline,” I said to her. “No matter my shape, I wear my dresses. I don’t let my dresses wear me.”
I also thought it to be the same for scars.
After all, there were only ever two options. We could either wear our scars with dignity to tell the world where we’d come from and that we survived, or let these heavy things wear us.
I thought of Stone then, and the look on his face before I’d left.
Why must he slip into everything?
“Speaking of, how is mine coming along? The ball is only four weeks away, and aside from completing all the dresses, there is still so much to do with planning for the event. Each time I try to visit, Alice says you’ve closed yourself off in the room to work, but I don’t hear the machine running. What on earth could you possibly be doing all day? The Founders Day Ball will be here before we know it, and then the wedding …”
My body stiffened. I was desperate to change the subject. “We have plenty of time for that. I think there are more important matters to discuss.”
Viola peaked a brow. “Such as?”
I narrowed my gaze. “What is the news with Lena? Freddy in the Mourning is missing, and without his morning show, all we have to rely on is The Daily Hollow. I didn’t see her name in the obituary, and I couldn’t imagine the cruelty of keeping a young woman in a cell for almost two weeks.”
Cyrus’s eyes slid to her as well, curious.
Viola went quiet.
I continued, “Has anyone checked in on her? Her execution was supposed to happen a week ago, and there has been no mention of it. Unless something else has happened to her.” Were they keeping her death a secret from the coven? What else could they be hiding?
“Lena’s body has been offered to the balance,” she said matter-of-factly.
Cyrus cocked a brow. “Without a ceremony?”
“When did this happen?” I didn’t recall seeing smoke.
Viola smoothed her dress down her lap. “Augustine and I both agreed that this town has experienced too much death these past few weeks. So, he held a private ceremony.”
