Koyrstin was the daughter of an Ancient God.

She was crowned princess in the fourth year of her birth, and an entire ceremony had been thrown in her honor. Her father, a warlord and the Regional God of the House of Tayamaya, knew each of his subjects personally.

He was youthful and charming, a good friend of the EzeKasala, and rumored to be one of the five Seal Bearers. His daughter looked too much like him. Her skin glistened like dark obsidian, her hair was thick with ink-black coils, her waist was thin, and her hips were bountiful. She was a gorgeous specimen, and her frame paired perfectly with any gown I could possibly create.

Koyrstin sashayed into the atelier in a pale rose dress, a plunging neckline with deep cowls that framed the apple of her bust. The waistline was cinched, the skirt flowed alongside her thighs before bellowing out at her knees in ripples that pulled across the floor.

I smiled to myself as I admired my dress on her.

She had come to collect the other one. She raised her hand, her upper arm cradled with a beautiful gold band, encrusted with sapphire and emeralds. Her manicured fingers pointed toward me, and when she smiled, the dimples appeared.

“This dress is beautiful.” She twirled in front of the mirror. “And the party was a success. In this dress, I was the center of attention. Not once did he take his eyes off me.”

“He?”

She stopped twirling. “I am getting married. He proposed.” She rushed over to the sewing table, her elbows pressing into the white table, her eyes filled with wit.

If, in any case, she could have seen my eyes, she would have startled, but alas, Koyrstin was caught in her daydream. Her sighs were long and dainty, her breath a mere whisper.

Her fingers danced on the table as she recalled the memory of her proposal. “I walked into the ballroom,” she said, “and there he was in a dark wine coat, tapered trousers, and a silk undershirt. When I stepped onto the floor, every head turned—including his. He smiled at me, excused himself from his company, and introduced himself to me.” She shifted her gaze from the ceiling, then toward me. “We talked the entire night, and later, underneath the stars, he proposed. Isn’t it lovely? The anghi of my dreams asked for my hand in marriage.”

“A mere anghi?” I hand-sewed the finishing touches of her gown. “Your father will allow that?”

“Well,” she cleared her throat, “he’s not a mere anghi. He is a Bookkeeper—an anik, at least for now—but if he passes his test, he will be an erel. The hope is that he might join the Watchers’ Guild.”

“A Watcher then.”

Koyrstin nodded, a smile elevating her cheekbones.

“So, will you make my wedding dress?”

“You don’t have to ask. I would love to.” I was honored that she asked. I knew that in the city, many dressmakers specialized in weddings, but a lowly couturier like me would not even be considered to create a dress for the daughter of an Ancient One.

“Izzy,” Koyrstin called. “Everyone knows you by your dresses. I—I was wondering if you would accept an invitation to the wedding.”

“Who did you say your father was again?”

Koyrstin smiled sweetly, a small giggle escaping her lips in a single chirp. “Only the inevitable Japhaar.”

I knew Japhaar.

How I knew him would be a story for another time.

“I would love for you to make the dress with gold threads and Amaranthian silk. I know it is quite expensive, but I want this occasion to be one I can commit to memory forever. Imagine a winter wedding.” Koyrstin spun around in her dress, her curls bouncing against her face; I noticed the flecks of glitter in her hair, a beautiful sight.

I couldn’t go to her wedding.

I was trapped—metaphorically—in this tiny atelier, away in the forest, hidden from prying eyes. I dusted the threads off my trousers and picked up my shears. There were a few more things left for me to do before bidding Koyrstin a farewell.

“I can’t go to your wedding, but I do send my blessings.”

She frowned. “I understand.”

“But you can consider the dress a gift. My treat.”

Koyrstin shook her head. “Gold thread and Amaranthian silk are just too expensive. I cannot let you give that to me.”

“It’s okay. I’ll have plenty of time to source the silks and get the threads. I can’t go to the wedding, and you’ve never stiffed me on pay. This is the least I can do.”

Koyrstin’s face pulled taut, her eyes lowering in despair. “I really wanted you to come to the wedding. I really wanted you to meet my lover—and my father.”

I slipped the shears under the weight of the fabric, carefully trimming the frayed edges off the seams, watching as threads decorated my trousers with each snip.

Japhaar was many things—a Seal Bearer was one of them, which meant that he’d recognize me in an instant if I were to ever pull up to his daughter’s wedding. Perhaps Koyrstin spoke eloquently of me—of her dressmaker named Izzy—and it hadn’t aroused any suspicions, or else Japhaar would’ve followed her to the atelier.

Yet … here she was, all by herself, spinning around in her dress, asking me to make her a gown for her wedding.

I would be delighted to, but I had to be careful, limiting how much eidan I wielded, if I wielded any at all. The last thing I wanted was for an Ancient God to find this atelier in the dead of night, when the trees were still sleeping, when the stars whispered old secrets to each other in the velvet darkness of the sky.

“Izzy?” Koyrstin called.

“Yes?”

“I really would like you to come. My father expresses interest in meeting you. He wants you to make him a coat for the wedding. I know you’re extremely private, so I hadn’t told him how to find you, but he is very insistent, and I don’t think I can hold him off much longer.”

I pulled in a breath, then placed the shears on the table in front of me. “I can’t come to the wedding,” I said in a stoic voice, “but I can make arrangements to meet your father and take his measurements, if that’s what you desire.” How would this pan out? A loose breath slipped through my lips, and I realized that it had been cradled with worries—worrying, I was not used to.

I’d have to do several things before I could stand in front of Japhaar—my power being one of the things I had to disguise. I would manage with my eyes if Japhaar didn’t insist that I take off my cloak in his presence: the god was very meticulous, having an order that he wished everyone to succumb to, no matter how silly it was.

“How desperate is he?” I asked.

“Anxious,” she said. “He insisted on following me to the atelier today, but I was able to ward him off. I told him that the dress was a surprise for him, and so if he came, he risked spoiling the surprise.”

“I don’t want to meet him at the atelier.” It was the only chance I had to control how and when Japhaar would meet me.

Koyrstin nodded, understanding of the situation I was in.

She—none of my clients—had known every detail about me, except that I wished to be kept unseen, hidden within the forest. Dyi and Laila had believed that I was a runaway ex-convict whom palace guards searched for in order to take into custody. I’d met them through Koyrstin, who promised that they had secrets of their own, so as a form of trust, each of the sisters had let me in on a secret that no one knew as a promissory note that they’d keep mine.

Haddina, I’d met while shopping for fabric, and she’d genuinely thought that I was a mage. Even when I tried to dispel her silly beliefs, she held onto them. Haddina had a thing for mages: she’d always wanted to meet one, though mages were outlawed and hunted by Warriors, who would track and kill them.

I tried to shed that image from her mind, but her belief was what kept her from telling anyone about me.

Jonata had been a bit different than the rest. She was the one who introduced me to new clients, and she did. After all, Jonata was an outcast herself, though she refused to admit it. Most of her friends were females who had inherited new wealth; their beauty had caught the eye of a wealthy Noble God or a warlord, and that alone had afforded them the status they held. Before that, all Jonata’s friends, including Jonata, had been brothel workers or dancers.

I kept my eyes firmly on Koyrstin, waiting to hear what she would say, how she would respond. If I could get Japhaar to agree to my terms, I could evidently control the meeting.

The only place I could think of was the Valley of Bones, located in the misty cliffs of Ynacci: a five-day journey by flight, even for the fastest gods. Yet, the journey was only to the desert, not to the rocky cliffs, on which the god would need to walk on foot or take a cart, and either option would take weeks to complete.

But I needed to do it that way.

The Valley of Bones neutralized all powers and all magic, though it did very little to affect mine. It, however, was a safe haven, like a cloak that I could wear, and if I controlled my power well enough, I could hide it in the fog that covered the entire valley.

It would be a strange request, and perhaps it would arouse Japhaar’s suspicions of me, if he had any, but if he agreed to it, then I would know exactly where he stood.

“Koyrstin,” I called, having made up my mind. “Tell your father to meet me in the Valley of Bones five weeks from now.”

Koyrstin arched her brows. “The wedding—”

“I know. It’s in the winter, so we have about seven weeks.”

“But will you get my dress finished in time?” Her eyes narrowed. “And do you think that my father would agree to that? He’s among the most powerful gods in the realms. If I ever tell him this, he would think ill of you.”

“You have to trust me on this—and you have to convince your father that I can be trusted. If we don’t do it this way, he’ll always be suspicious of me.”

Koyrstin nodded. “I’ll try.”

“I’ll be expecting him.”