She rolled her eyes, leading me out into the hall. “Rumor has it, last time you saw the Queen, you sat on the sofa right beside her!”
“What’s wrong with that? She told me to sit and I sat.”
“She is the Queen! You were not meant to sit in the same chair as her.”
“Well, that would be a really stupid reason to execute someone.”
Lyriel was smirking at me as a maid rushed ahead to hold the door open, and we carefully carried the precious dress into a room across the hall.
The Queen’s fitting room was the workshop’s opposite: not a sprawling creative chaos, but a small, exquisite space built for one purpose: making its occupant feel like the center of the universe. Three silver-inlaid mirrors formed a half-circle, ready to catch every angle. I wanted to sink into the deep plum velvet on the cushioned benches. Even the light was magical, coming from everywhere at once, warm and soft. It was the kind of light designed to make fabric, and the person wearing it, look perfect.
“Whoever designed this room understood lighting.” I arranged the skirts while Lyriel hooked the hanger over the rack.
“The Queen designed this room.”
We arranged the gown on the rack and fussed over it, smoothing the fabric, adjusting the constellation work on the bodice and making sure the layers of the skirt fell in the correct gradient. Lyriel, who was never more than arm’s reach from sewing supplies, produced a small kit of pins and needles from somewhere on her person and set it on the bench.
Then we waited. I missed my phone. This was one of those times where a little game of candy crush would go a long way. If I’d had it with me instead of leaving it on that bathroom counter, I probably could have found a magical way to charge it by now. Were there fae with electricity powers?
Queen Delsynarea entered without announcement or fanfare, making me feel privy to the tiniest glimpse of her inner life. Lyriel jumped to her feet and bowed deeply. I followed, a beat behind, and I was certain the Queen had noticed. She wore a simple morning dress the color of burnt copper, her silver-streaked auburn hair pinned loosely at the nape of her neck.
Two handmaidens rushed in and took posts at the back.
Our eyes met. I took a frightened step back and tripped over the bench, landing feet-up on the floor.
“I said not to do something stupid,” Lyriel hissed.
The Queen snickered and offered me a hand. “If you’re going to fall ass over heels in front of us, we suggest you avoid wearing a skirt. I have seen your underthings.”
“You’re lucky I was wearing underthings.” I snapped my mouth shut. “I mean, very vast apologies, Your Majesty. The sort of apologies that make you not want to execute me at all.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Is that one of the options today?”
“No! I mean, um, here is your gown, Your Majesty!” I did jazz hands at the gown.
“Oh.” The Queen stepped closer to the gown, her attention captured. The handmaidens, however, were not distracted. They glared at me with the coordinated intensity of a drill team, and I flattened myself against the wall, making a silent vow to fuse with the plaster before I tripped again.
Lyriel straightened. For all her confidence in the workshop, she looked surprisingly nervous when presenting her work to the Queen.
Moving to the gown, the Queen touched the edge of the bodice with one finger, tracing a constellation. “This is the Crown of Aelthyrl.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Lyriel said.
“And this—” She traced another. “The Weaver’s Thread. You’ve mapped the summer sky.”
“The summer sky as it will appear over the palace on the night of the solstice ball, Your Majesty. The constellations are positioned for that specific date and hour.”
The Queen looked up at Lyriel, smiling. “Whose idea was the color variation on the skirt?”
“That was Pip, Your Majesty.”
Two sets of fae eyes turned to me and I immediately wished I could melt into one of the plum velvet cushions. “It was mostly Lyriel,” I said. “I showed her a technique called ombré. Where the color fades, like a gradient.”
“He suggested the gradient, designed the color sequence, and selected the silver-white fabric for the hem,” Lyriel said. “I stitched it. The vision was his.”
The Queen studied me for a moment. “You have a good eye, Pippin Crane. We have never worn anything quite like it before.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I said, then cleared my throat. “Um, is that a good thing?”
