I groaned before I pulled my shirt over my head and unclipped the wrap over my breasts. She hung it up, tsking as she smoothed out the trousers and rubbed at the creases in the wool.

“Now let’s look at you.” Her eyes moved over my naked body, and she frowned when she saw the scar on my arm and the stitches in my leg. They weren’t my only marks. “Well, I suppose we can cover those. Turn.”

I reluctantly obeyed, giving her my back, and when I met Clove’s eyes over the curtain, he was smirking again. I flinched when her cold hands took my waist, running up the length of my ribs.

“All right,” she said.

She pushed out of the curtain and returned holding a roll of stiff white fabric with laces. I cringed. “Is that…?”

“Corset, my dear.” She smiled sweetly. “Arms up.”

I bit down onto my bottom lip to keep from cursing and turned again so she could fit it around me. She jerked at the laces until my sore ribs were screaming and I pressed my hands against the wall to steady myself.

“You’ve never worn a corset?” The woman’s tone turned up.

“No,” I snapped. My mother had never put me in one and I’d had no need for one on Jeval.

She fit the panniers around my waist next, tying the strings so the shape of the hoops bulged at each of my hips. Then she started on the silk, cutting and draping and pinning until the form of a frock took shape. It wasn’t until she pulled the curtain open that she turned me around and I saw what she was doing.

My reflection appeared in the gold-framed mirror and I sucked in a breath, stepping back.

The garment was fitted at the bodice, wrapping closed in the front so the skin between my breasts came to a sharp point beneath the folds of the fabric. The sleeves were no more than shredded blue silk waiting to be pinned, but the skirt was full, rippling like waves around me.

“I’ll need pockets,” I said, swallowing.

“Pockets?” she huffed. “Why on earth would you need pockets?”

I didn’t answer. I wasn’t going to tell her it was for my knife, or explain why I’d need one at a gala.

“Just do it,” Clove called from behind her.

“Wait here.” The woman sighed before she disappeared into the back of the shop.

Clove sat in the chair, taking in the sight of me. When he saw my face, he tried not to laugh.

“Enjoying yourself?” I muttered.

His mouth twisted up on one side again. “Your mother wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing that thing.”