The Wolf King's Second Chance Mate

The Dressmaker's Favorite Customer

Lyria had been up for several hours when Aertis burst through the door to her cottage. She was reading an old copy of ‘Wolf Tales’, short stories meant as cautionary tales for young wolf pups. It contained classics like ‘The Wolfsbane Tale’ and ‘His Majesty’s Fur’, and also had her favorite story from her childhood, ‘The Wolf King and the Magic Moonlight’. Lyria liked to re-read the story sometimes, especially when she was stressed.

“Again?” Aertis asked Lyria as she stopped short inside the door, panting from the run over.

“You don’t have to ask every time I read it,” Lyria laughed, putting the book aside. She stood and stretched her arms to the ceiling. “You’re here to help me look presentable, right?”

Aertis nodded enthusiastically. “It’s all so exciting, isn’t it? A ball, the King’s delegates, and some wolves will even be chosen to go to the castle to meet the King! Not me, of course, I have Lyle. But do you think you’ll get to go? Oh, how exciting!”

Lyria felt a little annoyed rumble within her, the shadow of her wolf that sometimes came out even in her human form. She realized that Aertis didn’t know that Alpha Windmere had already decided she was going.

Forcing a smile, Lyria asked, “I don’t know, do you think you can dress me well enough to get me a shot?”

Aertis jumped up and down. “Yes, yes, of course! Let’s go!” With that, Aertis grabbed Lyria’s hand, pulling her toward the door. Lyria laughed and let her, pretending to struggle a bit as a joke before giving in. After they’d crossed the threshold into the front garden, Aertis dropped Lyria’s hand. “Race you!” She shouted over her shoulder, giggling.

“Aertis,” Lyria called out to Aertis’s quickly moving back, “Aertis! I don’t think Alpha Windmere would be too pleased if I fall and break my neck before the ball!” Aertis merely raised a hand, waving at Lyria as she sped up. Lyria laughed and broke out into a halfhearted trot, not trying to keep up with her friend.

Jogging along, Lyria kept a brisk pace, not enough to break a sweat. Ahead, Aertis moved just quickly enough to stay well ahead of Lyria, but never moved out of her line of sight. She weaved along on the streets, which soon narrowed and became more crowded with homes. The homes got bigger and more luxurious as they got closer to the town center, some even with two floors. As they emerged into the town square, the homes turned into shops, bustling with wolves doing their shopping and mulling about exchanging gossip. Lyria guessed that many were talking about the ball later, though some who were too old or too young were probably also discussing their evening plans. The new moon would be that night, and so no one would be able to shift. When the moon hung not in the sky, nor did wolves walk on the ground, as the saying went. Most wolves used the new moon as an opportunity to relax, often inviting friends and neighbors over for games of chess or moonless mayhem, a popular game for the wolf pups to play when there was no moonlight, which was similar to the game of hide and find. Lyria usually volunteered to patrol on new moon nights. She wasn’t much for socializing, although perhaps she would be if anyone besides Aertis ever invited her anywhere.

Up ahead, Aertis was ducking into the local tailor shop. Lyria sped up a little, dodging passing shoppers. She smiled softly as the bell to the tailor shop rang out as she entered. The tailor, Ghermen, was always kind to Lyria. He was much older, almost fifty by his own reckoning. He had two daughters, who had both found mates in other packs, and his wife had passed some years ago. He had taken a liking to Lyria, as she resembled his younger daughter. Though she was meant to have the last pick of cloth for any clothing she needed, he often secreted away some of the nicer material for her.

“Lyria,” she heard his voice call out from the back of the shop, which was always lit brightly at the front, from large windows. However, the back of the shop was always lit much more dimly, with candles that often burned low before Ghermen thought to change them. “Aertis says you’re in need of a dress for the ball that Alpha Windmere is planning tonight, eh?” He emerged slowly from the back, and Aertis was trailing behind him, carrying an armful of rich fabrics in varied wild, bright colors.

“That’s correct,” Lyria said. “Aertis here is trying to make me look presentable to meet the delegates of the King.”

“Ah, well, they’d be a fool not to pick a brilliant beauty like you,” Ghermen said. He had a measuring tape draped around his neck, but he didn’t move to use it. Lyria knew he had memorized the measurements of most of the pack many years ago. Instead, he began to riffle around the fabrics Aertis was holding, eventually pulling out a rich, velvety swatch of something in a pretty crimson color. It was not quite purple, a color worn only by nobility, but it was close.

“Ah yes,” he said, holding it up against her, “I think this is the one. The red will look nice with your hair,” he ruffled her dark blonde tresses and smiled. “Now, what are we thinking? Long sleeves? Wide cut at the waist? A second strip of fabric at the center of the bodice perhaps?”

He wasn’t speaking to her, but to Aertis. Lyria was relieved, since she understood only half of what he was saying. Aertis, however, was buzzing about excitedly.

“What about a lovely gold damask? At the center of the bodice. I’m thinking that perhaps the dress should come out at the waist gently. I know that the trend now is to wear large skirts and corset dresses, but Lyria’s figure would be dwarfed by a big skirt, don’t you think?”

“Hmmm, yes. Too right,” he said, eyeing Lyria. “Perhaps a shorter sleeve, as well.”

Aertis nodded. After a moment, Ghermen placed his hand gently on the small of Lyria’s back and ushered her to a small platform near the front right window of the storefront. She stepped up onto it and he began to bustle around and measure out bits of fabric. Once he had finished making little markings on the velvet using a small tool that looked something like a razor, he took the fabric in both hands and he walked toward the back of the shop.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said over his shoulder to the two young women. Lyria stepped down from the platform and took a seat on a small wooden chair with a red embroidered seat cushion. Aertis took a seat next to her, a small table with a large candle on it in between their two chairs.

They sat for a long while, occasionally chatting about the ball, or Aertis’s upcoming wedding. The wedding dress, a beautiful green dress with golden and white thread detailing, sat half finished behind a counter separating the back of the store from the front. The back half of the store was a workshop, set up with a table and cabinets full of thread in all different colors. There were also ribbons, chests of fabric, and several rows of fabric cutting razors in different shapes and sizes. Lyria had only been back there a handful of times, but most people were never allowed back there at all.

The candle continued to burn lower and lower, though the sun still shone brightly through the windows so it wasn’t entirely needed. After a long while, Ghermen came back across the shop, now holding a finished dress. It was stitched together with delicate gold thread and had short sleeves cut at the middle so that they fluttered out, exposing her shoulders. It was by far the most beautiful dress that Lyria had ever seen.

“Ghermen, I can’t possibly afford--” but he held up a hand, gently. “I would give you this dress for free, dear,” he said, with a small smile, “but I don’t have to. Alpha Windmere has informed me he will pay for a dress for you.”

“Oh, that’s so… nice of him,” Lyria said aloud, though on the inside she thought one dress was a small price to pay to be rid of her forever.

“Go on then, try it on,” he said, pushing it into her arms. When she held it firmly, bunched up in her embrace, he flapped his arms at her, ushering her toward a small room at one side of the store, blocked by curtains on two sides and the walls on the other two.

She pulled the curtain closed, then slipped out of the light, airy white dress she had put on that morning. She generally preferred to wear britches, but wore dresses in her free time because she already stood out too much. She wanted to blend in more with the rest of the pack, and most of the female wolves wore dresses, except the female Warriors when they were on duty.

Pulling the rich velvet down over her head, she took care not to bump the wall sconce containing two candles on the wall to her left. When the dress was on, she emerged, feeling unusually self-conscious.

“Wow,” Aertis said. “You look so beautiful.”

“Yeah, unlike how I usually look,” Lyria said in a joking tone that she knew didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“That’s not what I meant!” Aertis protested.

Chuckling, Ghermen said, “Lyria, could you please step onto the platform once more? I want to make some minor adjustments.”

“Of course,” Lyria said demurely, before stepping up onto the platform. She stood there as Ghermen buzzed and weaved around her with a small razor and a needle and thread. He made a few quick cuts and then added stitches here and there, at one point causing Aertis to say, “oooohhh” admiringly under her breath.

A few minutes later, when he had finished, he stood back and checked his work. Then he said, “yes, lovely. Let me get you a mirror.” He bustled off behind the counter once again, returning a moment later with a large, ornate mirror. He struggled with it a little, huffing a bit, but he waved Aertis away when she tried to help.

He set it down in front of Lyria. “Close your eyes, dear,” he said before stepping aside. She obliged, and heard him rustling about, adjusting the mirror. After a moment he said, “okay, open them,” and when she did, she found herself peering into her own eyes.

They traveled down her body as she took in the beautiful frame of her body in the dress. It accentuated her curves without leaving her feeling too exposed, and the red velvet billowed gently out from her waist. The sleeves were magnificent, rustling gently when she moved to expose a little bit of skin. The gold thread which had woven the dress together also lined the sleeves and the bottom, creating a delicate and subtle sparkle.

“It’s beautiful,” she gasped.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said as she stepped off the platform. She headed to the chair, which now housed her abandoned white dress. She grabbed it hastily, then slipped on her sturdy, practical shoes, embarrassed she didn’t have anything more delicate.

“Hey, hey,” Ghermen said, “where do you think you’re going? You’re not to leave the shop and traipse home in that dress, getting dirt and dust everywhere! Go change,” he gave her a disapproving stare, then added, “and I’ll get you some proper slippers to match.” He marched decisively away toward a small chest in which he kept delicate, fancy shoes.

Smiling at his crotchety behavior, Lyria slipped back into the changing room. However, she felt loath to take it off, suddenly. After a few minutes of running her hand over the soft, supple fabric, she slipped it over her head in one fell swoop as if she wouldn’t be able to bear taking it off slowly.

Once she had changed back into her plain dress, she emerged again, cradling the dress as if it was a priceless treasure.

“Perhaps this won’t be so bad,” she said begrudgingly. Aertis smiled victoriously at her.