Betty's POV.

Claire practically skipped the whole way down the stone steps, humming some upbeat tune like she was marching to war for fun.

I couldn’t help laughing. She really was the pure chaotic sunlight version of the high priestess.

We walked into the royal seamstress’s shop.

A quiet, elegant space filled with fabrics that shimmered like moonlight. 

The seamstress, an older woman with sharp eyes and a professionally neutral expression, took one look at Claire and sighed.

“Oh ...