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The emerald silk hangs loosely around her, pinned away from one wrist. I bring a tentacle forward and curl it gently around the bare skin, giving her something steadier than the narrow wooden rail.

Valerie inhales at the contact. Her warmth registers immediately against my cooler skin, and her fingers settle cautiously along the ridged surface of the limb.

“Cold,” she murmurs, looking down at it. “You really are.”

“I did mention that.” I keep the hold loose, though she shows no sign of wanting me to move.

“You mentioned a lot of things yesterday.” Her thumb shifts slightly against the tentacle. “Some of them were distracting.”

I’m fairly certain she means the contract. I’m less certain I want to know which part distracted her most.

The first step remains too high for her to manage comfortably, so I bring a second tentacle around her waist. It settles over the emerald silk and takes enough of her weight to make the climb easy.

Valerie goes very still for a moment, then looks directly at me. Cassian reduced waist-tethering to a line in a contract, and the wording made it sound far more harmless than it really is.

“Ready?” I ask. Valerie nods, and I lift just enough to bring her level with the platform.

For a moment, her weight rests easily between the two tentacles. The warmth of her body reaches me through the thin silk; she is close enough that keeping her there would require almost no effort at all.

I set her down as soon as her feet clear the edge. The tentacle at her waist loosens first. The one around her wrist stays until she has found her balance.

The extra height leaves us almost eye to eye. Valerie looks down at the retreating tentacle, then back at me.

“You didn’t mention they were that dexterous,” she says. Her fingers flex once at her side, as though the sensation hasn’t quite left them.

“I assumed it was implied.” I draw both tentacles back. “You weren’t going to fall.”

That earns me a small smile before Eleni moves in with several hands full of pins. Whatever Valerie might have said next disappears beneath a fresh avalanche of silk.

“Hold still, Miss Priest,” Eleni says. “And you, Sigurd, try not to look so pleased with yourself. You’ve only managed to put a woman on a platform.”

“I’m aware of the scale of my achievement.” Valerie catches my eye over Eleni’s shoulder, and this time I don’t bother pretending I’m not amused.

Eleni circles the platform, pinning and adjusting until the emerald silk falls cleanly around Valerie’s legs. Then she steps back, studies the result, and immediately reaches for another length of fabric.

The emerald gown is only the beginning. Over the next two hours, Eleni works through silk, velvet, and fabrics that catch the light in ways I don’t have names for.

Valerie endures the fittings with more patience than I expected. By the time Eleni finally declares herself satisfied, garment bags cover half the seating area.

Outside, the rain has eased into a cool mist. Two assistants carry the garment bags to the car while my driver arranges them carefully in the trunk.

I warn him that the emerald silk catches easily near the zipper. He moves that bag to the top without comment and continues loading the rest.

Valerie stands beside the car in her own clothes again and watches the trunk fill. “I know I agreed to play the part, but that was surreal. I just stood there while a woman with six arms wrapped me in enough silk to fund my library for a decade.” She gestures toward the garment bags. “This isn’t a wardrobe. It’s armor.”

I glance at the neatly packed black bags. “Overpriced armor, but yes.”

Valerie turns toward me. “So the dresses aren’t supposed to make me look like Maren.”

“No.” I lean one shoulder against the car while the last bag disappears into the trunk. “My mother and the people around her are very good at finding weaknesses. If they decide your clothes are one, they’ll use them.”

Valerie’s brows draw together as she considers that. I nod toward the trunk before continuing.

“Eleni makes sure they have to look elsewhere.” I hold Valerie’s eyes. “They’re supposed to make sure nobody can dismiss you before you open your mouth.”

The tension around her mouth eases. “That I can work with. I’m much better with arguments than couture.”

“I noticed.” Her mouth curves, and I decide not to spoil the point by elaborating.