Rosemarie clicked her tongue as she tugged at the measuring tape, circling it around my waist. "Oh, would you look at this?" Her eyes lit up, looking at the measure and at me. "A figure like yours is a tailor's dream! Not too thin, not too broad, and those curves... Oh, Moon Goddess! You'll make even silk jealous," she said while her assistant was writing the measurements. She spread her hands as if something had made her feel delighted. "I swear, when you step into Lord Lucretius' birthday ball, half the women will cry, and the other half will faint!"
I scratched the back of my head, heat climbing my neck. "You exaggerate..."
I couldn't believe that I was having a conversation with someone who was considered the most prominent seamstress in the capital. Only those respected nobles and
