“I can’t make lenses, but we do have frames. I’ll be right back with them.”
The moment she leaves the room, my breath can ease.
“Do you have to yelp each time?”
“I like to.”
“Well, it’s Vincenza’s problem to fix, not mine.” She continues working the cuffs on the dress—prefabricated.
“...Is there pricking in necromancy?”
“Plenty, for the fun spells.”
Absolutely nothing I hate more than needles in my skin. It’s made by the Ring to be whole. Not pierced and penetrated like a pincushion. Even… if I feel like a pincushion right now. And even with exceptions like holy piercings.
I should distract myself. “Do you know her?”
“Vincenza? Tons. She would always come in here with—“ Her hand suddenly freezes. “She always wanted bespoke dresses, short notice. For. Every. Single. Event. Great customer, and friend.”
“A past apprentice?”
“Yes. Their soul’s been scattered upon the Ring, its blessings upon them. Don’t go the way they did, now.”
“I’ll try.”
“It’ll be easier to try in a good dress.” She steps back, a delayed score of echoes following. “How’s that look? Does it feel alright? Vincenza chose the style, but the fit can be modified.”
I pick up the edges of the dress and slowly sway. The dark lace falls in shallow waves down my legs despite my attempts to control it.
Beautiful. Pure. Industrial brilliance.
There’s many dresses just like this one all around, but this one’s on me. No pinching. Somehow, no scratching either. Tolerable.
“I like it.” And I smile so that she believes me.
“Vincenza didn’tspecificallyrequest for this addition, but I could give you something to helpimproveyour natural chest,“ she offers.
“Uh, no thanks. That sounds uncomfortable.”
“No point in making you uncomfortable, dear. If you’re happy, then follow me to meet my brother.”
I step to follow her, trying hard not to catch the dress on my still rather unclean boots. The air feels thick, like I’m pushing people out of the way.
Chapter 5
Reflections
Ghastly pale skin. Dark eyes—and something to irritate the sclera into a cute red. Even my nails got treated to a little filing and black polish.
The only thing they couldn’t do was straighten my teeth, but he left a referral in my pocket to get an orthodontist in. I don’t actually plan on letting Vincenza know about that part.
They might stick a needle in me.
I keep on adjusting the empty frames they handed me, tight on my nose. The second referral in my pocket is for an optometrist to get me real lenses. Third one’s for a jeweler to put some rings on my fingers—I strongly begged against putting them anywhere else.
And the fourth referral’s for a hysterectomy. Not clear on how the tailor can refer something like that, or how it affects aesthetics, but I have it.
Regardless, I have a beautiful dress and the choice between four veryutilitariandiners. A pasta shop. A meat and pasta shop. A pasta, meat, and also some more pasta shop. And a bakery.
