I STOOD IN the middle of the floor, trying not to move while three of Fiona’s people, two young women and a man in his midtwenties who looked a lot like her and Jun, sewed me into a practice gown. Jun, Fiona’s brother and enforcer, positioned himself in front of me. The real wedding dress would apparently come later and, according to them, I’d have to do at least two more fittings. I could barely contain my joy.

“Please stop grinding your teeth,” Fiona said. “It’s very distracting.”

“This one or this one?” Jun held up two squares of lace.

They tried to make me pick one out of twenty different samples. I told them I didn’t care, so they resorted to the process of elimination.

“Left.” The one on the right clearly had been stolen from some grandma’s coffee table. “Teddy Jo will be here any minute.”

“When he’s here, you can go,” Fiona told me.

A needle poked my thigh.

“Sorry, ex-Consort,” one of the seamstresses said.

I looked at Julie snickering in the corner. “Where is Curran?”

“Curran can’t be here,” Fiona said. “It’s bad luck for the groom to see the wedding dress before the wedding.”

“Who made that rule?”

“It’s tradition,” Fiona said.

“I don’t care about tradition.”

“Tradition is everything,” Fiona said.

“Julie, where is he?”

“He went out to check on the horses.”

“Really? He hates horses.”

Julie’s eyes sparkled. “He said it was very important for him to check that they were still there. And that he was also there and not here when you snapped.”

When I got out of this dress, I’d give him a piece of my mind.

“She keeps flexing.” The seamstress on the left said.

“How much difference is it making?” Fiona said.

“About an inch overall. She’s very muscular,” the man said.

“Stop talking about me like I’m not even here.”

The seamstress on the left pulled on the fabric. “If you want me to take up this slack and she flexes during the wedding, we’ll have a problem.”

“She’s a human,” Fiona said. “I don’t care how muscular she is, she isn’t going to rip it like the Incredible Hulk.”

“She won’t rip it, but it will skew this seam right here.”

Fiona frowned and tapped her pencil on her lips. “Let it go?”

The seamstress let go of the fabric and all five stared at my waist. Keep looking, it will do a trick.

Someone knocked. I turned.

“Do not move!” Fiona snapped.

Jun opened the door and Barabas stepped inside. He took in the scene and gave me a brilliant smile.

“Ah!” Fiona said. “Perfect. Unbiased opinion.” She marched over to me and pulled the fabric tight. “No slack?” She let go. “Or slack?”

“No slack,” Barabas said. “It gives her an almost hourglass figure. Kate, which way do you like it?”