“Of course. Your mother and I grew up together. Thick as thieves, we were. I designed and sewed all the dresses in her trousseau. If you have them with you, I could make some alterations and bring them into this century if you’d like.”

“That sounds incredible.” While I wouldn’t mind a new dress or two, the thought of getting rid of my mother’s gowns makes my heart ache anew. Especially since everything else that belonged to her was destroyed. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s my pleasure. Now, let’s see what we can find for you in the meantime.” She breezes past us in a jingle of bracelets and starts grabbing bolts of fabric.

This is going to be fun.

* * *

In the soft peach wash of sunset, the city looks downright magical.

Bells chime in the distance, marking the end of another hour. Birds soar through the pink clouds, searching for someplace to lay their heads for the night.

Nia takes both my hands, spinning me around so that my skirts billow like a daffodil’s trumpet. “I told you that Madame Ella was a sorceress, didn’t I?”

I’m not even sure sorceress accurately describes what Madame Ella managed to do in just a few hours. Not only did she tailor this teal silk and lace masterpiece, but she also promised four more dresses in the next few weeks. After seeing her behind a sewing machine, there’s no doubt in my mind that she will be able to revive my mother’s gowns.

The price she charged for it all feels scandalously low, even by Gravale standards—not that I’m complaining.

“Thank you, Nia. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.” I yawn into my fist. I’m going to sleep like the dead tonight.

“You act as if the day is over when it’s only begun.”

“You have more plans?” From the gleam in her eye, I’m not sure whether to be nervous or excited.

“Of course I do. You’re not only here to shop for dresses, Kerris.” She tugs me back toward the city center. “You’re here to shop for a husband, and it just so happens that I know where to find the perfect one.”

3

“Small talk is overrated. Find someone with whom you can share the silence.”

Kerris Dawn, an observation

When Nia said we were going to a pub, I assumed she meant a snug little room with a turf fire, low stools crowded with men in wool caps, and an unhealthy dose of cigar smoke thickening the air.

Instead, The Black Rose is a spacious warehouse-turned-brewery, with twinkling fae lights stretching across the exposed-beam ceiling. Tables extend from within the space, spilling onto the streets so patrons can enjoy the balmy spring air over a frosty pint.

The best part is, there are men everywhere, each one more handsome than the one before.