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I slip behind the curtain she pointed to and quickly shuck off my clothes. She’ll need to do up the corset, but I pull the gown over my hips and loop my arms into the sheer, capped sleeves. The gold dust in them shimmers under the lights with each small movement. Cupping my chest, I step back into my heels and walk back out to the pedestal. Three-quarters of it is surrounded by mirrors, so you really get a full view of yourself. Sometimes that’s great, and other times I wish she’d cover them all up so I didn’t pick myself apart while she measures and cuts.

“That’s a beautiful color on you,” Mrs. Kleine says, walking behind me to look at my reflection. “Good with your skin tone. Make sure you’re wearing sun cream. Don’t want pink shoulders with this.”

“I’m very mindful of it. It’s a bit balmy today though.”

“Haven’t been outside since this morning. Full day here. But I see I’m not the only one who’s been busy.” She adjusts her purple-framed glasses as she tightens the corset. “Don’t hesitate, you or your mother, to reach out if you need anything done last minute.”

That’s all she has to say on the matter before launching into how her daughter’s baby shower went from the last time I saw her. My shoulders relax a fraction, grateful not to be pressed for information. She’s polite enough not to ask. In a job like hers, she probably holds more secrets than locks in a bank.

Each pull of the corset makes my breathing grow shallow. It’s a good thing I don’t need to talk much, because I don’t know how well I’d be able to.

“Feel good?” she says with a pat to my waist.

“As good as it’s ever going to feel to have your ribs squeezing into your organs.”

She bats a hand at me. “Hush, now. You’re used to them. Plus, look at your figure in that thing. Gorgeous. Better hope those cameras catch you in this one. And when you get asked who fixed it up, you tell them Mrs. Kleine. Got it?”

I smirk. “Got it.”

She taps my waist again before grabbing her pin cushion. “Good. Now let’s fix this length. Are those the heels you’ll be wearing?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Your mother taught you well.” She sits on her small rolling stool and begins on the multiple layers of fabric. Her back is rounded from years of leaning over her sewing machine. Despite her age, her hands are steady and fingers nimble as she deftly slips pin after pin into the hemline of the shimmery golden material of the dress. Only being five five, almost every single dress Mrs. Kleine has ever worked on for me has had to be hemmed at least an inch or two.

“That looks much better,” she muses. I reach a hand to help her stand and she takes a step back to get the full picture. “Yes, perfect. An inch and a quarter. I’ll have that done by the end of the week.”

I look the dress over in the mirror, not to double-check her work, but simply to admire it. Her work never needs fixing that she doesn’t find herself. I’ve noticed that she never asks her clients, or the seamstresses working under her, if they think something looks right. She simply just knows it is.

I’m a column of shimmering gold, with the underlayers of the dress a darker silk shade that allow the top sheer, glittering layer to shine. The sweetheart neckline dips slightly lower than previous gowns of mine, and with the help of the corset, my chest looks full and supple. For once.

My waist curves in, the style more of an A-line than a ballgown. I was worried it might not be grand enough for the celebration, but my mother supposedly checked in with Hilda’s ladies to ensure it was appropriate.

The bell chimes and a moment later, a familiar voice rings out. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

Aria Renford Caulfield, fourth in line for the throne, comes striding into the shop looking as elegant as if she were on a runway. The sole daughter of the King’s younger brother, and cousin to Lock and Beau.

“Aria!” I exclaim and rush toward her, leaving a muttering Mrs. Kleine in my wake. Aria grins as she throws her arms around me. I squeeze her tightly, then remember I’m covered in pins and hastily step back. “I didn’t prick you, did I?”

“Wouldn’t worry me if you did,” she says easily. With a dramatic sweep of her thick lashes, she looks me over from head to toe. “Gosh, this is radiant. You’re like a sunbeam. Mrs. Kleine, why haven’t you ever put me in something like this?”

Mrs. Kleine puts a hand on her robust hip. “Because you’ve never asked, girl.”

Only she can get away with referring to Aria as girl. Aria flicks her nose in the air. “Fine. Maybe you’ll let me borrow it one day.”

“You know you could just demand I give it to you and I’d hand it over,” I tease. “You know, just like you did with those pink pearl earrings I had at our winter formal.”

“In my defense, I was a brat! And only sixteen. I’d never pull rank on you now.” She winks and brushes her chestnut hair over her shoulder. “I assume this is for Harold’s birthday?”

“Yes, and please tell me you’re attending. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve dodged the last few big parties.”

She and I walk back over to Mrs. Kleine so she can finish up the last few measurements. Aria unfolds her tall, slender frame gracefully on the couch. “I am. I’ve run out of excuses and Father has demanded that I attend, lest I want to find myself on Aunt Hilda’s bad side.” If I’m not mistaken, I think she shudders a bit. “This one is mine”—she points to an emerald gown with large glittering gems across the bust—“although now I don’t think it will compare to yours.”

“I should’ve known that belonged to you.” Aria is always dressed in various shades of green. It’s her signature color, and one she only strays away from if the Queen is wearing it to an event. “And please, you don’t have to worry about any rivalry from me. I’m sure all the papers will be talking about you the following day.”

Aria is a staple in the fashion and style section of each media outlet. Known for being the most fashion forward and well-dressed royal, she is featured on countless best-dressed lists and has launched the careers of dozens of designers across the country.

“Well, not too fast with the newfound interest in you, Miss Penner. I saw⁠—”