I was expecting Haddina to walk into the atelier anytime soon. Unlike Laila, who always overpaid, Haddina was the opposite. She still owed me for the gown I made for last year’s Winter Festival, and she was supposed to stop by today for her Autumn Ball gown—and the payment.

Soon, the chimes rang, and the door rattled as Haddina stepped inside, her hands full of fabric pieces. She glanced at me and exclaimed, “I’m late!”

“You are,” I replied.

“Have you finished the dress?”

“Yes.” I got up from the khiata and opened the wardrobe to my right. Taffeta and lace spilled on the floor. Haddina’s dress hung on the rod along with other dresses that I’d finished.

“Is this it?” she asked.

I pulled it out, unveiling a large copper dress. The bodice was made of taffeta, and the skirts were made of layered beige tulle. The skirts opened out like a rose, full at the hem, but pulled in at the waist to create a pleasing shape.

Haddina’s eyes widened as she grabbed the dress from me. “Lovely. Simply lovely. How do you know me so well?”

“You’re my most frequent client.”

Her cheeks reddened. “Don’t flatter me.” She glanced at me, pressing the dress against her body. “If I walk into the ballroom wearing this, everyone will admire me. Do tell, am I the only one you sew for?”

I frowned. “Haddina, how would I turn a coin if I only sewed for you?”

She tipped her head to the side, eyes narrowing. “I am the only one wearing this.”

“I never make the same dress twice.” I picked up my fabric shears and returned to my khiata. Flicking it on, the machine hummed, and I raised the presser foot, slipping a layered cotton sleeve pattern under it.

“What do I owe you?” she asked.

I looked at her. “The dress costs thirty gold pieces.”

She grunted. “That’s a lot.”

“It is, but to source the copper threads took me many moons, and I was almost mauled to death by a goat.”

I lowered the presser foot and re-threaded the khiata, changing the white thread to a blue thread to match the cotton.

“A goat?” Her nose wrinkled.

Pressing the pedal down lightly, the needle began to move, gently pulling the fabric underneath as I stitched the sleeves together.

“Yes,” I responded. “Copper threads only sell on the Alamain Mountain, and I had to climb it—”

“Couldn’t you fly? Are you not a celestial with wings?”

I stopped sewing and glanced at her. “It’s glamoured, and the terrain is terrible. I doubt you would’ve gotten the copper threads yourself. Besides, flight isn’t always the best option. The mountains are foggy.”

Haddina stared at me blankly.

“You don’t believe a goat tried to kill me?” I grinned as I resumed sewing.

She said nothing.

I didn’t lie—not exactly. The goat did try to kill me. He’d been angry that I walked through the grass he was grazing on, and he charged at me. However, for Haddina, of course, I conveniently left out that the goat couldn’t kill me. I wasn’t exactly killable.

“I don’t think a goat would do that, Izzy. Perhaps injure you, but are those creatures capable of something so heinous?”

I shrugged as I repositioned the sleeve pattern. “I see you haven’t raised goats.” I ended with a backstitch and removed the sleeve from the machine. “Are you paying me?” I asked.

“I can’t afford to pay thirty gold pieces.”

“You’re a noble,” I reminded. “In any case, I have other cheaper dresses you can choose from—”

“Can I pay later?” She twirled her fingers together.

“You still owe me for the winter gown.”

Haddina arched her eyebrow. “I paid you that already.”

I sighed, slipping a scroll out of its holster before unraveling it for her to see. “I keep a tab on all my invoices.” I pointed to her name and the blank space beside it. “You still haven’t paid for the last dress.”

“I thought I did.”

“Haddina—”

“Okay, okay. How much does the last dress cost?”

I cleared my throat and got up from the machine. “Keep in mind that you wanted me to make this dress out of un-meltable ice.”

Haddina’s face drew taut. “That’s sorcery,” she said.

“So, now you understand why it will be expensive.”

Her expression was puzzled.

“That dress cost fifty gold pieces.”

“No one can make a dress of un-meltable ice,” she exclaimed.

“I did.”

Haddina readjusted the hem of her blouse. “Who are you?” she asked. “A god? A mage? Which celestial can weave ice that cannot melt?”

Pushing the scroll back into its holster, I said, “I have access to the best of the best.” That was as far as I was willing to take this conversation.

“So, then I owe you eighty gold pieces.” Her tone sounded defeated.

“I already eased payments on the last dress. I cannot do that again for you.”

“Perhaps it would be in your interest to know that I will be getting married to the EzeNyera next week.”

I stopped and turned toward her. Was she telling the truth? “You?”

She nodded, shyly, before extending her hand to show me the ring on her finger. I inspected it, almost refusing to believe that the EzeNyera would randomly marry a noble daughter from a lesser Noble House. Haddina wasn’t even Churan. But … the ring was real. The emerald stone glimmered in the light as she twisted her finger.

“I didn’t want to announce it prematurely, but I am getting married to EzeNyera as a wife. Once the marriage is final, I can pay for all my gowns.”

Still not believing her, I sat around the machine. “He actually proposed to you?”

“Not quite,” she replied. “Actually, He wants to secure my father’s land.”

“Your father isn’t Churan.”

“But he is Azharan.” Haddina cleared her throat. “The EzeNyera would get my hand in marriage, and my father will walk away with lots of coin. Either way, I’ll be able to afford to pay you after next week.”

“Your father has land. Why can’t you pay now?”

“I’ve already—” she threw her hands up in defeat. “It’s complicated. My father is in debt. Too much debt.”

I sighed. “If you can pay me after the marriage, I will credit this, but this is the last time I’m doing it for you.”

Haddina smiled. “I will be sure to pay you back.”