“He’s right.” Olivianna studied the dress I’d been wearing for days with golden-brown eyes. “This was terribly last minute, so I’ve had to leave him at the bakery down the street from my shop. If I don’t hurry, he will be up all night with a stomachache. Pilma loves to spoil him with treats his tiny stomach isn’t ready for.” Tapping her chin, she asked, “Just where did you purchase that gown?”

Unsure what to say, I said nothing.

“Velvet and cotton.” She blinked. “Genius, but undoubtedly doomed if you keep wearing it.” With a thwunk, she plonked her tiny but heavy bag onto the dining table. It tilted even more in protest. “What’s your favorite color, Aster? I refuse to believe it’s custard and mauve.”

Scythe must have informed her of my name in a conversation I’d unfortunately missed.

I peered down at the colors of my gown, wondering what was wrong with them, all the while still trying to process what was happening.

“Well?” Olivianna prompted.

Scythe chewed his thumbnail, the action shocking and unlike him enough to keep my tongue tied. But when I forced it to work, I couldn’t find an answer. “I don’t know.”

The brilliant array of browns and copper in the dressmaker’s skirts moved with her like a waterfall under her command as she turned, measuring string in hand and her dark brows poised high. “You don’t know?”

Scythe was eyeing me warily again when I dared a glance at him. For help, maybe. I wasn’t sure. But staring at him, I blurted, “Green. Emerald green.”

Olivianna’s eyes flicked between us, and my cheeks flushed when she muttered under her breath, knowing full well that we could hear, “Of course it is.”

The wolf’s attention began to burn, but I refused to look at him. Instead, I combed my fingers through my hair, wondering if this seamstress had a brush in her little leather bag.

Not a moment after I surrendered and dropped the dusting cloth so that Olivianna could take my measurements, the door closed.

Olivianna cleared her throat, her words barely audible. “He’s been good to you?”

“Yes,” I said instantly. “Very.”

She hummed, moving the string across my hips and smiling. “Just checking.”

“Why would you need to?” I asked, keeping my tone light to show I was merely curious.

“Many wolves have known tempers or reputations for being selfish assholes,” she said, her voice hopefully still too low for Scythe to hear. “Then there are those like our fierce commander outside who are known to have both.”

“Both?” I blinked as her nose came within a few breaths from mine, her eyes wide as she measured my bust without even looking.

“Demons,” she hissed. “Multiple shadows at his back.”

My gaze tore from hers to swing to the door. “His eye?”