Milvara arrives to find Emlyn pacing, having given up on attempting to meditate. Seeing the normally calm Emlyn in such a state, Milvara stops, “Nia, whatever in the world is wrong? You’re pacing like a caged were-beast.”
“If I told you,” Emlyn says, “You’d think I was mad or the worst liar ever. Even with the Goddess to confirm what I say, many here at the temple don’t believe me. Hells, I almost don’t believe it, and I’ve lived it, so I can’t blame anyone else. Let’s say it’s been a tough day and leave it at that.”
“If that Benger has…” Before Milvara can finish, Emlyn is consumed with laughter.
“Oh, gods, no!” she gasps, “Not that kind of a tough day.” Calming a bit, Emlyn grins at Milvara, “Thank you, Milvara. I needed that.” Snorting, Emlyn adds, “I can handle the boys well enough. One way or another.”
Frowning, Milvara gestures for Emlyn to put on the chemise that will go under the dress, and Emlyn hurries to oblige. “You’re filling out again,” Milvara grumbles as she lets some of the darts back out.
“I’m starting to train again,” Emlyn says by way of explanation, “Walking around in the plate has been good for me. My strength is coming back. Yours is the second fitting I’ve been to today.”
Frowning up at her with a mouth full of pins, Milvara asks, “What other designer have you been seeing?”
Grinning, Emlyn shrugs and says, “Master Lokrag.” Rocking back on her heels,
Milvara looks at Emlyn, puzzled, “Lokrag? Are you sure? That sounds like an Orcish name. If there were an orcish couturière in Harito, I’m certain I’d have heard. What in the world is he fitting you for?”
“My armor,” Emlyn grins, “My induction ceremony is to be two days after the ball, right before the Temple closes, and we leave for the break. If you can make it, I’d love for you to attend.”
Emlyn is moving stiffly after having to stand perfectly still for so long during the fitting. Grimacing, she makes her way to see the dancing master, Soliel Shimmermint. Following the directions Vanya gave her, she hears music. She follows the music to a room where a large fae with delicate, iridescent, translucent wings is hovering around a couple who are attempting to perform some basic dance steps.
Spotting Emlyn in the doorway, the androgynous fae alights and walks over to her. Taking her hand, he leads her into a distant corner of the room.
“You must be Nia. Let me see what I have to work with,” Emlyn arrives stiff from her fitting, her muscles aching from hours of stillness. Master Soleil greets her with a flourish and pulls her into a waltz.
She keeps pace, but he stops abruptly. “Too stiff,” he says, frowning. “Stretch. I’ll be back.”
Emlyn drops into her usual pre-fight warm-up routine—lunges, splits, and flowing calisthenics. When Soleil returns, he watches her with raised brows. “If you can do that, you’re loose enough.” He signals the musicians and whirls her into another waltz. She follows with ease.
“It’s like sparring,” she said. “Only the goal is not to land a blow, but to avoid stepping on your feet.”
Laughing, Soleil coaches her through the formal steps. She masters them quickly, followed by the turns, then the spins. “How do you learn so fast?” he asks. Emlyn borrows his cane and demonstrates a sword sequence—fluid, precise, relentless. “Once you’ve memorized hundreds of combat forms, dance steps are easy.”
Grinning, Soleil nodded. “Tell your dressmaker you need a mock gown for practice. And find one of your oafish brothers-in-arms to dance with you. You’ll be dazzling.”
Smirking, Emlyn shakes her head, “Why would you punish me like that? The clerics just finished regenerating my toes. I don’t plan on dancing with them much.”
“Who are you planning to dance with?” With an enigmatic smile, Emlyn whispers her plan and the reasons for it in Master Soleil’s ear. His eyes get wide, and he grins at her appreciatively,
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“Then I shall have to see that you’re up to the task. Now let’s try another dance.” As he teaches her the formal court dances, she realizes that she’ll also need a fan and makes a mental note to ask Milvara about it.
After working feverishly, Milvara has Emlyn’s dress ready for its first proper fitting. Gone are the muslin templates and cheap imitations. This time, it’s the actual dress. Bundling everything into some trunks, she and her shop assistants load it all into the hired carriage to take them to the temple. It's taken quite a bit of time to get everything ready, but the effect should be pretty stunning. Milvara shopped for jewelry, but couldn’t find anything, so she approached Davilla.
Davilla went to Ember, who directed her to the temple’s silversmiths. The silversmith that the temple provided to create the headpiece and jewelry to accompany the dress was delighted to work on something that challenged the limits of his skills. He’s typically limited to working with sconces, censers, candlesticks, and other temple adornments. It’s not often that he gets to create jewelry, and he’s taken to the project with enthusiasm.
Dadmas has been a blessing, and his tiara design addresses the issue of her still-too-short hair neatly. The tiara, crafted from silver and moonstones, is crafted to sweep around her head like frost forming on glass—delicate chains and jeweled snowflakes chimed softly with each movement. He’s also made a necklace, bracelets, and earrings to complete the set.
This will be the first time that Emlyn gets to try on all the pieces at the same time. Milvara’s over the moons with excitement about seeing how everything will look together. All in all, the effect should make Emlyn look as if an Ice Fairy has decided to attend the ball. There will likely need to be adjustments made to either the dress or the jewelry to get it just right, but that’s what fittings are for.
Milvara and her assistants arrive at the temple and are greeted by Benger and his friends. “We’ve come to help carry all this in,” he grins, “I remember having to help Papa carry all of Mama’s things when she’d get a new ball gown.”
Milvara sighs with relief at seeing several strong young men and a hand cart to help move everything. The small dais for her to stand on, so that the hem can be adjusted, is placed on the cart first, and then trunks containing the dress in all its layers and Milvara’s equipment follow.
Everything is carted into Emlyn’s room, and Milvara throws open a trunk, setting up a screen so that Emlyn can dress in complete privacy. While Emlyn shrugs into the first chemise, a knock sounds, so Benger opens the door.
Dadmas is there, with a wooden box, grinning. “I’ve got the pieces ready so we can see how they look with the dress.”
Benger ushers him in. “She’s just getting into the dress now,” he says, waving at the screen.
“I can’t tell you how exciting it’s been,” Dadmas grins, “to get to do some proper silversmithing. I don’t get to design and make things like this very often. I might have gotten a bit carried away with it.”
He sets the box down carefully on Emlyn’s desk and opens the lid. Nestled inside is the tiara with its chains, the necklace, the earrings, and the bracelets. Benger takes in the ice crystal design and lets out a low whistle of appreciation. The spiky, fern-like crystalline pattern has been faithfully replicated in silver and set with stones in a way that makes it seem even more like ice.
“That’s amazing,” Benger compliments him, “It looks so much like ice that I half expect it to melt.”
Milvara takes a closer look at it and nods approvingly, “That’s a master work, if I’ve ever seen one. Given the budget you had to work with, it’s awe-inspiring. I’ll certainly be sending some commissions to you.”
Dadmas preens at the praise, “I think I would quite like that. Candlesticks are somewhat unappealing after this. I seem to have gotten some of my Da’s talent for carving gemstones. I took a lot of things that we’d taken off other pieces to upgrade them to more expensive stones and reworked them for this.”
Once Milvara’s assistants are done fussing over her and the dress, Emlyn steps out from behind the screens. Emlyn steps from behind the screen, her gown shimmering like a snowy forest in motion. The pine green bodice sparkles with crystals, and the layered mesh skirt sways like wind through icy branches. Milvara’s design had transformed her into a vision of winter magic.
Gasps and compliments follow. Saris sighs dramatically, “We’ll never get to dance with you now.”
Davilla beams, “You look like the Ice Fairy come to grace the ball.”
Benger helps her onto the platform as Milvara adjusts the hem, and Dadmas arrives with the jewelry—moonstones and icy jade carved into snowflakes and silver chimes.
Grinning, Saris approaches her dais, “We thought it best that we get our requests for a dance with you in now because once you arrive at the ball looking like that, none of us will stand a chance otherwise.”
Grinning back at him, Emlyn nods, “I’ll do what I can to save you a few dances then.”
“Your induction ceremony is just two days after the ball,” Benger reminds her, “Are you sure you’ll be ready?”
“If I can get through eight dances without all of you louts stepping on my feet,” Emlyn grins, “I’ll be ready.”
“I can’t wait for Mother to meet you,” Benger grins.
“I’m taking her home with me in the spring,” Madil says, jostling Benger, “You’ve been hogging her long enough as it is.”
“I’m calling midsummer,” Falnor says quietly.
“Damn it, Falnor,” Garmer grouses, “I wanted midsummer, but I suppose fall break will have to do.”
Hiltar steps up beside her, “We know you don’t have family, so we thought we’d share ours with you. I’ll take next mid-winter.”
“So, all of you have planned out my schedule, I see,” Emlyn says with a bit of a crack in her voice, “I can’t thank all of you enough for everything.” Fanning her face with both hands for a moment, she inhales deeply, overcome by emotions.
“You’ve all planned out my dance card,” Emlyn teases, voice cracking with emotion. “I can’t thank you enough.” Her friends have offered their families, their affection, and their support. She fans her face, overwhelmed.
Urlin breaks the moment with a grin. “Enough of this girly business. Time to get you back in fighting trim.”
Emlyn laughs. “If you think dancing has nothing to do with combat, you’re in for a surprise.”