Page 184 of Salt Between the Wolves

Eira stared at them in mild horror while the seamstress looked delighted, the servants looked delighted, and even the housekeeper seemed pleased.

Eira alone remained unconvinced.

"You make it sound like a military operation."

"It is a military operation," the seamstress replied.

The servants immediately nodded in agreement.

Traitors.

One by one, the garments emerged from their protective wrappings: deep blue wool, soft grey fabric, dark green trimmed with silver stitching, and a lighter dress the color of sea glass.

There was not a single piece of white fabric among them.

The realization caught her unexpectedly, and for several moments she simply stood there looking at the dresses.

The seamstress noticed.

"You don't like them?"

"No."

The woman visibly deflated.

Eira regretted the answer immediately.

"I mean—"

She reached toward the dark green dress.

"I like them."

The seamstress relaxed at once.

"Oh, good."

"You sounded as though I had murdered someone."

"I spent three nights sewing."

"Ah."

"Exactly."

An hour later, Eira found herself standing before a mirror while two servants circled her like particularly determined vultures.

The green dress fit perfectly, skimming her figure without restricting movement, and the sleeves actually allowed her to lift her arms, which felt like a remarkable innovation.

One servant adjusted a fold near her shoulder while the other stepped back and tilted her head.

"Oh."

Eira narrowed her eyes.

"What?"

The servant smiled.