She shoves the dress at my chest, forcing me to take it. “This arrived for you this morning. Try it on.”

“I will later.” When she isn’t in a strop.

“Do it now so that we can take it back if it doesn’t fit. We need to collect our dresses for the festival.”

Fine. I’ll try it on to appease her. Hopefully a walk into town will brighten her sour mood.

I bring the gown upstairs to where the others I’ve yet to alter sit in a stack beside my wardrobe. Sure enough, the skirt on this one is too long as well. What’s going on?

Nia enters my room without knocking, wearing a buttery yellow dress and a frown. “Madame Ella must be sending you someone else’s dresses.”

“I know.” The first dress she sent was tailored to perfection, but all the others have been too big. I return the dress to the box and grab two of the others I’ve yet to alter. If she wants the rest of them back, I’ll bring them another time.

With the parcels split between us, Nia and I make our way to Market Square. The sun warms my face and the air swirls with the delicious smells of spring and sugar.

Nia walks at a clip, seeming content to ignore me.

I despise the tension between us but don’t know how to make it better. She will forgive me for sneaking around behind her back eventually, right? She must.

If only she could see what I see.

If Ever didn’t have that hunt, I’d bring her with me across the bridge tonight. Perhaps when he returns, I’ll introduce them…whenever that may be.

When we reach Madame Ella’s shop, the place is as empty as it was the day I first arrived in Rosehill. The only sounds are our slippers on the marble floor and the hum of a sewing machine.

Nia and I set the boxes on the countertop next to the till, and Nia presses the bell.

The hum stops, followed by the click of heels. Madame Ella appears from behind a curtain, her cherry hair loose around her shoulders. “Welcome, welcome. So good to see you both again.”

At least someone is happy to see me today.

“Your Beltane gowns are finally finished and, Kerris, I have three of your mother’s dresses altered. Give me a moment to pack them up—” Her gaze falls to the boxes we brought, and her brow furrows. “Was there something wrong with the dress I sent?”

“I’m afraid the skirts are all too long.”

“We thought perhaps they were meant for someone else,” Nia chimes in, leaning a hip against the counter.

Madame Ella’s bracelets jangle as she slides the ribbon off the top box. “How is that possible? When I removed the ruffled panels, I didn’t change the length.”