His gaze lowered for a moment. “It hides too much.”
Penelope stilled, and Mingxi wondered if he had said too much.
Camille clapped again. “Off with it. Bring the green.”
Both apprentices froze and then scrambled.
Penelope changed behind the silk screen, assisted by quick, efficient hands. When she stepped out, Mingxi straightened. The gown was a deep forest green, rich as a midnight grove. Soft velvet overlaid with delicate gold-thread vines that curled like living magic. It fit Penelope’s waist cleanly, flared subtly at her hips, and framed her collarbones with a soft, scooped neckline that was elegant instead of immodest.
It made her look grounded. Alive. Rooted.
And dangerous.
Camille folded her arms in satisfaction. “There. That is the one.”
Penelope ran her fingers over the velvet. “It’s…beautiful.”
“No,” Camille corrected. “You are beautiful. The gown knows enough to stay out of your way.”
Penelope felt her cheeks warm. She turned toward Mingxi.
He kept his expression unreadable and hoped his eyes didn’t betray him. He worried he hadn’t suppressed his fox’s reaction quickly enough.
“It suits?” Penelope asked quietly.
He stepped closer, his voice low. “It does more than suit you.”
Her breath caught.
He gestured around the bodice—without touching, but close enough to make sure she felt the heat of his presence.
“The cut strengthens your frame. The neckline draws the eye upward—toward your expression, not your vulnerability. The color…” He paused, searching for exact precision. “The color grounds you. Green is protection in fox lore. Standing stone. Living shield.”
Penelope blinked. “I didn’t know that.”
“I did,” he said softly.
Camille smirked like she’d been expecting that response all along.
“And,” Mingxi added, regaining some of his composure, “practically speaking, green contrasts with the ward-light in the ballroom. You will be visible wherever you stand. Guardians will be able to track you instantly.”
Penelope seemed to let that settle, as if she understood the importance of protection, visibility, and presence. She straightened in the mirror.
“Yes,” she said. “This is the one.”
Camille clapped her hands triumphantly. “Excellent! We shall begin fittings immediately. Two ball gowns, one presentation cloak, one reception ensemble, and perhaps a surprise or two.”
She whirled away in a flurry of silk and pins.
Penelope looked to Mingxi again. “Was it really the best choice?”
His voice was quiet. “Nothing else came close.”
Camille DuVallon snapped her fan shut with the dramatic finality of a general ending a campaign. “That will do. Measurements taken, enchantments noted, fittings recorded. Your primary gown will arrive in seven days. Possibly six, if inspiration strikes me. Unlikely.”
Penelope blinked. “Seven days?”
“Yes,ma fille. Greatness takes time. Lesser dresses take hours.” Camille waved a jeweled hand at her apprentices. “And you will have nothing lesser.”
