Turning back to her open satchel, she flicked her hand, and a black wooden box floated up. Aeriservian, I realized, still not used to seeing magic used so casually. She gave a few more flicks of her wrist, and I tried not to flinch as the case popped open to release four thin strips of fabric that wrapped themselves around my breasts, stomach, hips, and right bicep. She gave another flick, and red pins shot toward my body, weaving themselves into the fabric to mark my sizes.
She said something in Rivellan, and I craned my neck to look at Dey.
“She said to relax,” Dey translated.
“You try relaxing with sharp metal bits flying at your body,” I shot back.
Resigning myself to my fate, I held painfully still to avoid getting stabbed.
“Is she almost done?” I asked after what felt like an hour but was likely only fifteen minutes. The seamstress had stopped focusing on me a while ago and just stood there, drawing on a piece of parchment with a thin charcoal stick.
“She is mocking up a sketch for you to approve. If you are pleased with it, then yes, you will be finished,” he replied.
Finally, the seamstress revealed her vision, and I choked back a gasp.
I always hated dresses. As far as clothing options went, they were uncomfortable and made me feel fragile, like dressing too feminine somehow changed me into a delicate flower who needed a strong man to save her.
I didn’t hate this dress, though. If the final product was anything like the sketch, then it would likely be the first dress I ever put on voluntarily.
“Did she say what color it will be?” I asked, tracing a finger down the drawing as I waited for her response.
“She said that for the lost princess of the Diamond Court, nothing would be acceptable save for undyed crescia silk,” Dey replied, and I caught a hint of reverence in his voice.
“Crescia silk?” I had spent a fair amount of time in the Sylvarium and never once saw a crescia spinning any webs.
“Crescia draw themselves into sort of a cocoon once they have bonded,” he explained. “They spend a short period of time inside and reemerge in their new form. They only produce the silk for the transformation so, as you can imagine, it is very rare.” He paused. “And beautiful.”
“But it has long sleeves,” I mused, continuing to take in every detail on the page. “Why would they use more silk than necessary if it’s so special?”
Dey cleared his throat, and I tore my eyes away from the drawing to look at him.
“King Verren thought that perhaps it would be better if… if perhaps we…” He looked so uncomfortable it was almost adorable.
“What, Dey? It’s a simple question.”
He blushed, his words barely discernible as they rushed out. “He felt perhaps we should not openly display your lack of manifested power.”
“Yeah, okay. I get that,” I agreed, turning back to the drawing.
“You are not upset by this, Princess?”
I shrugged. “No, why would I be? I think it’s a waste of the super rare silk, but I remember what happened in Civi Adasa.”
“I am pleased that you are not offended,” he said, sounding profoundly relieved.
I turned his words over in my head. Should I be offended? I guess it was a little strange. I highly doubted anyone would dare attack me here in the castle, so why hide my arms?
Unless… he was ashamed of me. Of the fact that I hadn’t manifested any powers.
“Are you well, Princess?” Dey asked, pausing by the door after escorting the seamstress out.
I waved a hand. “I’m fine. Go do whatever you gotta do. I’ll see you at dinner tonight.”
“Perhaps you will sit with me this time?”
He gave me a lopsided grin, and I plastered on a fake smile in return. “Sure, why not? Just make sure Josira has a place near me, ok?”
“Of course. I will see you tonight.”
