While Andy worked on the dress, Athena worked on me.
She had dragged me to a corner of the workshop that looked like a makeshift vanity, cluttered with glass jars of scented oils, silver-backed brushes, and tins of colorful pigments. She was a whirlwind of energy, humming to herself as she began unbraiding my hair, her fingers moving with a gentleness that surprised me.
"Athena," I warned, looking at her through the mirror. "Please don't turn me into a doll. I just want to look... like me. Only better."
"I’m not turning you into a doll," she promised, though the mischievous glint in her eye said otherwise. She took a dollop of a honey-scented salve and began working it into the faint, healing mark on my forehead where the bandage had been. "I’m turning you into a distraction. If my brot
