Chapter Nine THE DRESS Alison
Chapter Nine
THE DRESS
Alison
Alison was grateful to have Rinka with her at her wedding dress appointment.
Rinka had spent the summer working with Lydiach, the green-haired fairy tailor who had made her gowns when “Lady” Rinka’s had been “thrown overboard” during the pirate takeover of the Wilderise ferry.
(In reality, Rinka’s trunk had arrived a few weeks later unscathed, but it certainly hadn’t been filled with the fine dresses the fairy tailor had made with the crown’s coin.)
Which is to say that she was much better equipped to discuss dresses than Alison, who only owned about three of them. Trousers just made more sense in the city when she was commuting, and they made more sense in the country working in the garden and riding on horseback.
But a wedding was not an exercise in practicality. “It’s your day,” said Lydiach, flitting around on tiny white wings carrying stacks of bridal magazines and bolts of silky fabrics. “Tell me what your wildest dreams are, and I’ll make them come to life.”
A bold statement, but Alison would expect nothing less from a fairy.
Although she knew that Lydiach and her family preferred life amongst the people, a life that meant largely abandoning public magic usage due to King Derkomai’s distaste for it, Rinka had shared with her a suspicion that her gowns couldn’t possibly have been made by such tiny hands in such a short time.
If Lydiach used a bit of the old magic in the privacy of her workshop, she’d receive no judgment from Alison.
But Alison had no idea what her wildest dreams were, or if she did, they hadn’t involved dresses that looked like they were made of whipped cream.
“Let’s start with this one,” said Rinka, flipping through the magazines. “Princess Chloe likes this one, and she has great taste.”
The gowns within were illustrated beautifully, but to Alison, they all looked rather similar. “Ah, the lace sleeves on this one are nice,” said Lydiach, pointing to a gown that looked to Alison like…well, a gown. “I have a lace like that. Let me find it for you.”
The fairy flitted off again.
“This fitted waist would be nice on you,” said Rinka. “You’re so thin, you’ll want the boning to give you some curves.”
“Mmhmm,” said Alison. She knew some of those words.
“What about a bias-cut satin?” said Lydiach, returning with the lace and handing it to Rinka to examine when Alison appeared uninterested. “That would accentuate her figure. Just a simple neckline—a scoop or a cowl neck, maybe.”
“With some satin flowers maybe like these,” said Rinka, flipping a few pages over.
“Or maybe the lace over the sleeves,” said Lydiach.
“That might be too fussy for her. What about a belt? Weyland could make her a buckle or a brooch,” said Rinka.
“That would really bring in the waist,” said Lydiach.
“Alison?”
Alison hadn’t heard a word they were saying.
“Alison, are you alright?” asked Rinka. “Sorry to talk so much jargon. Do you see anything that you like?”
“I’m just…I’m a little overwhelmed,” said Alison, pushing the magazines away, tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
There were so many decisions to make, and so many things Alison felt she was supposed to care about, but she didn’t know enough about it all to even have an opinion.
The only thing Alison really cared about was marrying Keir and having a nice time with their friends. All the rest of it? It was too much.
“Don’t apologize, sweet girl,” said Lydiach. “There’s no wrong way to have a wedding.”
“Let’s just talk,” said Rinka. “Why don’t we feel the fabrics? Do you like how any of them feel?”
Alison nodded. There were delicate silks and intricate laces, fuzzy velvets and rich jacquards, fluffy tulles and gauzy chiffons, and even some rough wools that Lydiach said would be good for a cloak in case the day was very cold.
Focusing on how the fabrics felt was easier than trying to decide everything all at once. “I like the feel of this lace,” said Alison. “And this one—”
“A fine chiffon,” said Lydiach. “Those are lovely, but they’re quite sheer. Would something like this do for the layer underneath?”
She handed Alison a very smooth silk. “Yes, that will do,” said Alison.
“How do you want to look?” asked Rinka. “Prim and proper, pretty and natural, or sultry and sexy?”
Alison laughed. “I don’t think sultry and sexy would do for a wedding.”
“It would for a fairy wedding,” said Lydiach. “You should’ve seen the humans’ faces at my cousin’s wedding. I thought one of the old ladies was going to die from shock.”
“Please invite me if any of your other relatives get married. I’d love to see that,” said Rinka. “So then prim and proper or pretty and natural?”
“Pretty and natural,” Alison said. “Maybe if I look sort of vaguely vegetal, like I grew out of the winter woods.”
“Oo, that’s an idea,” said Lydiach, flipping through the magazines again. She and Rinka pulled them forward a bit so Alison wouldn’t have to see. They pointed and murmured quietly to each other until both were nodding in unison. “I think we know just what to do. Do you trust us?”
“I do,” said Alison.
“I now pronounce you ‘wedding dress decided,’” said Rinka. “You may kiss your maid of honor and talented seamstress.”
Alison laughed and kissed Rinka on the cheek, thanking her for her help. She touched her finger to her lips and gently pressed it on the fairy’s cheek, careful not to topple the tiny woman over.
As they left the shop, Rinka turned to Alison. “Give me the list of things you haven’t decided and don’t really care about. I know you don’t want to burden Keir, but you don’t have to do this alone.”
“Well, there’s the reservations at the inn for my mother and her family. There’s the entertainment. Oh, and the food. And I suppose we also need to figure out if we’re having it in the church…”
“Pixie’s britches, Alison. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather elope?”