The Couturier
You never know who’s going to walk into the atelier.
A nobleman’s wife, a soon-to-be Royal, the daughter of an Ancient God, and an aingeal who just came into a huge inheritance from her late father.
Celipha is filled with clientele that never runs dry, and every female in the Empire knows that if she wants a dress fitted to her exact specifications or if she wants to stand out at a ball, she should go to the little shop hidden in the forest.
They call him Izzy: the couturier who doesn’t need to measure and doesn’t need to drape. He cuts the pattern, and the dress is perfect. No one’s ever seen his face, and no one knows where he comes from.
And he’d like to keep it that way.
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