Ouch. She didn’t even call it training.
Later that afternoon, we headed straight for her shop.
‘This one would look great on you,’ Emily mused, mostly to herself, lifting a green dress off the rack. Smoothing out the creases as she ran her fingers over the fabric with such fondness that I almost felt guilty for not liking it. Her designs weren’t just clothes to her; they were pieces of art.
‘I’m not sure.’ I eyed the low neckline and shivered. ‘I need something a bit less revealing.’
She grunted, rifling through what looked like hundreds of dresses. ‘Isn’t that precisely the problem you have with your power, too?’
I didn’t answer.
She wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t about to admit it. I moved toward the back of the boutique, scanning for something that actually felt like me. Eventually, I found a deep burgundy gown with long sleeves, a modest neckline, and a loose fit. It ticked every box.
Horror flickered across Emily’s face. Leaning in, she whispered, ‘Ava. Please step away from maternity wear. Unless there’s something you’d like to announce?’
I sighed quietly. The girl clearly knew her craft; she earned the right to judge my taste.
The boutique buzzed around us, assistants sewing, stitching, and measuring with precise coordination.
‘Alright,’ I said, crossing my arms. ‘Show me your idea of modesty, and I’ll let you know if I can survive it.’
Dress after dress, and still nothing felt right. Most of the gowns seemed designed with one goal in mind: maximum cleavage. It was like the entire Fogoyan fashion industry existed solely to display breasts.
‘Is subtlety banned in thiskingdom?’ I asked dryly.
‘Among the people you’ll meet, modesty’s considered a personality flaw,’ she replied. ‘How about this?’
She handed me a midnight-blue silk gown, smooth as water beneath my fingers. The neckline dipped lower than I’d have liked, but it wasn’t as scandalous as some of her other selections.
‘It’s beautiful,’ I admitted, unable to look away.
‘At last we agree. Try it on.’
The dress clung to every curve, snug and unyielding. When I caught my reflection, surprise flickered through me. Maybe, just maybe, stepping out of my comfort zone was worth it.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Avari
Armed with a full night’s rest and enough hunger to conquer whatever the cooks had prepared for me, I headed toward my favourite room in the castle. The aroma of sweet treats and fried vegetables wafted in the corridor, and my stomach made its opinion very apparent.
‘Princess Ava!’ The little girl jumped down from the table and ran to greet me. ‘We’ve been waiting for you!’
Shit. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Isla—I must have overslept…’
‘You didn’t,’ Emily sighed, sipping from a steaming mug full of coffee. ‘I made a huge parenting mistake yesterday by telling her we’d be joining you for breakfast. She was up at five.’
That would explain her bloodshot eyes. Poor woman looked ready to dive headfirst into her coffee.
‘Ava, what do you usually have for yours?’ Isla asked, piling her plate high with pancakes, berries, and a generous helping of honey.
‘Bread,’ River replied for me, tone solemn, almost disapproving. ‘Or will she surprise us today?’
A sly grin tugged at his mouth as I sat beside him and said, ‘Maybe I will—though I’m not as adventurous as Isla. Plain versus wholemeal. Tough choice,’ I joked, reaching for the bread but veering towards cereal at the last moment. ‘Is Michael busy again?’
River nodded before promising ominously, ‘He is, as will we be, later.’
Shooting me an insightful glance, I understood the point he was trying to make instantly. He’d begun gathering as much information about my mother as possible.
