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“Their gowns don’t appear to be this complicated.”

Lucy sighs. “That’s because there’s another layer to go atop all this.”

I drag my hand down my face. This is utterly ridiculous—all this effort and none of it will even be seen. Furthermore, it’s already heavier than what I wear to go out into the snow! Fully assembled, this gown seems to have the purpose of anchoring me to the ground. In my case, that might actually be considered useful, but why on earth must anyone else be weighed down like this?

When the process is done, Lucy steps back.

“Thank you, Lucy. You should take a long break. That was quite a feat.”

Her shoulders slump, and she tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Thank you. I hope it’s easier to take off.”

“Oh, if it’s too difficult, I’ll have Nina burn it off me.”

She smiles as she sends me off. Tonight, floating down the middle of the spiral staircase is not for fun—it is a necessity. Walking down these stairs wearing my weight in fabric can only lead to disaster. The combination of aggravation, pity, and awe for the women who propagate this is difficult to reconcile.

Lillian lights up when I enter the dining room—late, since getting dressed took infinitely longer than getting dressed ever should. “Arabella, you look stunning!”

“Thank you.” I sweep the layers of skirts underneath myself as I sit to find it’s more uncomfortable when seated. “I love it.” It’s not that it isn’t pretty, there is just so much of it. If a dress is going to be so insistent on covering as much skin as possible, why doesn’t it care about covering up my shape? It’s as tight as tight can be to ensure that isn’t lost under everything. A torso-length shackle has shoved my breasts up nearly to my chin, only for them to be covered up. Then it pinches in at my waist before ensuring my legs and hips are completely lost under a tent of a skirt. It couldn’t be more opposite our fashion if it tried.

Queen Anilla bubbles with joy over my appreciation of her gift. Nina keeps quiet about it, but her coy, tight-lipped smile tells me she’s compiling jests about it for later use.

I can scarcely eat for the lack of room allotted me by this ensemble, and if not for the power to control air, I might suffocate. Perhaps Lucy didn’t put this on correctly. I’ll have to ask Lillian about it in private. I survive dinner, though I’m still hungry by the end of it. Lucy can bring something to my chambers later. Although, the kitchens should be quiet, so I could just get something myself. Mary would never know.

All I want to do is get out of this dress, but I remain with the party into the parlor. I won’t survive months of this. It’s not possible. Jamys walks me in and asks if I’d like to play joko. I agree, and we sit down to it.

“You do look beautiful.” An unspoken hesitation lingers after his words.

“Are you certain?”

“I am. However, as much as I anticipated seeing you in Cerauno fashion, I must admit, I preferred you this afternoon.”

This afternoon—in a tunic and leggings, sitting on the floor of a cave. He is a surprising one at times. “That’s what you prefer? Not my Alchosian dresses?”

He keeps his eyes down as he places the pouch of white stones before me. “Those are also… lovely.” His cheeks color ever so slightly. Which of my dresses might he be picturing? They all reveal lengths of skin Cerauno undergarments probably keep covered.

“I wasn’t sure if you ever actually noticed.”

“I notice, Ara.”

It stirs something in me to think of him admiring me that way, but I’m not sure if the stirring is pleasant or uncomfortable. My entire torso being squeezed isn’t helping matters.

“Regardless,”—he places a stone on the board—“I did still prefer this afternoon.”

I could explore the topic further. Perhaps I should. But getting to know Jamys better is a slippery slope. If we have a relationship before we’re married, then a pre-wedding affair becomes something I’ll feel horribly guilty for. Instead, I turn my attention to the game, or rather, to losing the game, as I so often do.

“The recommended strategy is to secure the borders first,” Jamys says. “Then you can move into the center of the board.”

“But there is more space to concur here.”

“It’s harder to do, though.” He kindly doesn’t tease me about my whiny tone. “You’re more likely to win in small chunks.”

“Well, there isn’t anything I can do on that side now; you’ve got it all.”

“You need to fortify that side so I can’t expand my territory.”

I tap my teeth together as I look over the board. It’s a mosaic of black and white stones with plenty of options, but none seem useful.

A footman enters and goes to Mother. I miss what he says, but I pull the air to hear her say in a low voice, “Tell him to come in, please. He’s as good as family.”