Dyi stepped into the atelier clutching the twine handles of her shopping bag. A shy smile spread across her face, and her freckles darkened.

“How late am I?” she asked.

“Too late,” I replied, resting a dress down. “I’m about to lock up for the night.”

She rested her bag on the table near the entrance. “I brought more fabric. I just thought that lavender was not a good idea.”

It was awfully dark, too late to make any amends to her dress, despite the city bustling with life. Though the atelier was at the edge of the forest, even from here, I could see the lanterns crowding the sky, smell bread and cakes from nearby stalls, and hear the thrill of laughter warm the air.

The cedars, oaks, and conifers kept most of the atelier hidden, but I was also careful to ensure that the base of the forest also had hidden runes for the glamour I’d set in place. Only my clients could find it and enter.

The small light from the outside candle burned bright enough in the night. But nighttime was when I was most busy, closing the shop, not to sleep, but to listen.

Dyi looked at her reflection in the mirror. The soft pink of her dress blended into her complexion. While she was darker than her sister, Laila, Dyi was still as pale as a winter’s morning. Her cheeks were flushed with a vibrant red, her lips were always painted plum, making her skin even paler. I should say that it caught me by surprise that she’d forgone her favorite lipstick.

In that moment, my mind casually ran across Haddina and the stolen jewel that decorated her finger. How did she manage to steal that? Removing anything from the EzeNyera’s Palace was a feat that even I would not attempt. I could say that my morals wouldn’t allow me to steal—and it would be true—but even I could not steal from the EzeNyera’s Palace.

“I finished the blouse,” I said to Dyi absentmindedly.

She glanced at me. “Can I see it?”

“It should be on the cutting table.”

Dyi walked over to the table, her strides delicate and careful. I paid attention to the way she pursed her lips at the dress, her inspecting eyes taking in each seam with careful study. Her lips spread into a thin smile as she held the blouse up to her body. “Silk.” She spoke the word as though it were her first.

Her blue eyes traced the blouse, then up to me.

“Chiffon.” I returned her smile. The peach chiffon matched her complexion; I’d dyed it several times to get the shade perfect, and I’d surprised myself at how close I managed to get the color. It looked just like her skin: fresh and vibrant with the right amount of red to make it delicate.

“What would I wear it with?”

“A fuller skirt with a cinched waistband.”

“How soon can you make one?”

I arched my brow. “You want me to make one in time for the ball?”

“I want to wear this for the ball—”

“I am not a miracle worker, Dyi. It will take me at least five days to finish it, and the ball is tomorrow.”

Dyi squeezed her face, her nose wrinkling. “But…” A breathy sigh escaped her lips.

“I have another client’s dress I need to make for the ball, and she paid in advance.”

“I would have paid in advance, too, if I knew you worked based on payment.”

I dropped the dress I worked on next to me on the floor. With sudden movement, I scratched the sole of my boot against the hardwood flooring, and it squeaked. All around the atelier, work was never finished.

The ball had proven to be a busy time. After this, winter would set in, and the forest that was currently colored with plums and oranges and golds would dip into an endless white with the blue-green pines peeking out from bright snow.

Around this time of the year, beauty came in all sorts of shades; on the outside, life came to a sleepy halt. Inside the atelier, it would always be strewn with fabric scraps, yarn and threads, unfinished gowns, sketches pinned to the walls, and several dress forms lined up against the large, paneled window.

This ball should be able to garner enough coin to get me through the winter. So, in a way, Dyi was right. I was in no strategic position to deny her a fuller skirt, considering that such a skirt would be priced at nearly seventy gold coins.

Dyi came closer to me, setting her shopping bag next to my feet. She slowly pulled herself up, staring as though she caught a hint of what hid beneath the shadows cast by my hood.

My heart always raced at these moments—what if she saw my eyes? What would she think? What would she say?

Yet Dyi stepped away quickly, in an uncaring manner. Her fingers reached up to her collar, cupping the pendant that dangled beneath her neck. “How much would it cost?” she asked. “The prices in stores are usually very high. About ninety gold coins.”

A nervous chuckle escaped me. “I had planned to charge you seventy—”

“Good.” She dropped a bag of coins on the table. “Then I will pay for it now.”

“But Dyi—”

“I must have that skirt. I will even pay more if you can complete it by tonight.”

“You are asking me to weave power that you cannot guarantee I have. I am merely a tailor.”

Dyi arched her brow. “You gave Haddina a dress made of ice. You are most certainly some mage.” She pushed her face closer to me, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I know your secret.”

I laughed. “That is my secret, most definitely. I am a mage.”

Dyi’s face relaxed with a smile. If she only knew…

A mage, perhaps, might be able to make a dress of ice that won’t melt at the ball, but Haddina still had her ice dress. And a mage could not do that. 

Eidan was limited to its wielder. A mage could only wield so much power, and sustaining an ice dress would depend on their abilities and strength. 

Dyi believed I could make a fuller skirt in one night, and it prompted me to realize that she did not know how incapable a mage was. Of course, to make a skirt like that in one night would arouse the suspicion of actual mages, should there be any at the Autumn Ball.

If I risked making the skirt with eidan, I would send her to a ball in a skirt with my scent all over it; it would attract unnecessary, and needless to say, dangerous attention. 

“Dyi, I would love to make such a dress for you, but I am afraid it will take five days. I won’t get it done in time for the ball.”

“But you said you were a mage.”

“I was only making fun. The truth is, Haddina’s dress is not made of ice.” I laughed. “After all, not even mages can do such a thing. Haddina believes it is made of ice, but it is crystals.”

Dyi twisted her face. “The Ancient Gods can make a dress of ice.”

“Are you suggesting that I am some sort of Ancient God?”

She shook her head. “That would be rather silly. But it is not as though a dress of ice is far beyond the scope of the mortal realm. A god, even a young one, can make a dress of ice.”

I nodded in dutiful agreement. 

“Then I shall take what you have for the ball now, and we can work on the skirt for the Winter Solstice Ball.”

“I agree.”