The silk caressed Calypso's skin with deceptive gentleness—beautiful and exquisite, yet designed with the same purpose as a spider's web. She remained perfectly still on the elevated fitting platform while three seamstresses bustled around her with meticulous attention, like devoted workers serving their queen. The gown was undeniably magnificent, its fabric capturing and reflecting the volcanic light that poured through the chamber's crystal windows, thanks to threads of actual gold woven throughout.
"Please don't move, my lady," Mira whispered, her fingers working with practiced precision as she adjusted the neckline yet again. "The Duke has very... particular requirements for the cut."
