Chapter Thirty-Three Spread Your Wings

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Spread Your Wings

THE SEWING MACHINE whirs happily as I step on the pedal, feeding another seam beneath the needle. The rich velvet is slippery in my grasp, but I keep my grip firm.

"Make sure the tension of the stitches isn't too tight, mon coeur." The memory of Father's voice echoes in my head. "Velvet is a tricky fabric. If you try to tame it, it'll only work against you. You have to give it room to breathe."

I smile as I release the tension of the silk thread. I'm not Father—I don't have his Talent. But I do have his memory and his legacy. Every lesson he taught me, every time he guided my hand as I sewed, every hour we spent studying patterns. Father raised me on the knees of fashion and taught me everything he knew. But he did more than that.

He made sure I fell in love with the art.

Fixing his coat is like sewing my past to my future—the final mark of bringing back the grandeur of the House of Finley.

"Cleo, your guests are here," Anaella calls as she enters the room, her face beaming.

After almost a month, her scar is now a faded white trace. But its presence only adds to the strength of her natural beauty.

"Bring them in. I just have one last stitch." I step on the pedal once more, the needle responding as I push the fabric. I make sure the machine's lever is at the top before removing the coat and cutting the loop thread.

I grab the pen resting on the desk, staring at the open page in Father's book. The sketch of the coat is old and wrinkled, but his writing is still as clear as ever. I press the tip of the pen to the page, scribbling my own note with a steady hand: " Sep. 21st. Restoration is complete. "

My heart swells as I flip through the stained and withered pages. Each one of them is a precious memory, and the blank ones at the end await new memories that Anaella and I have already started creating.

"It looks perfect," Anaella says from the doorway. "As good as new."

Madame steps from behind her, entering the room with a quick stride. "We've already established what a gifted modiste Cleodora is. And so have the papers!" She waves a picture frame in front of me as Renée and Lirone join us.

"Hi, Cleo." Lirone smirks.

The color has returned to his face, and he has been gaining weight. The old torn coat he used to wear is nowhere in sight, replaced by a clean jacket that actually fits his size, and new leather shoes. Renée has her good hand resting on his shoulder, while her other one is still braced after her fall.

"We thought it would be nice for you to have the article framed and hanging above your desk," Renée says.

I stare at the headline, forcing my smile to remain intact as I read the words I've already memorized.

Shockwaves hit the city!

Lutèce's Nightingale revealed to be a gifted modiste and a police informant, responsible for the fall of the city's largest illicit market operation.

I have read the article too many times to count. It calls me a brave woman who risked her life to stop the stealing of Talents. The woman who prevented another widespread panic and made sure the lost gems were returned safely to their owners. Of course, there is no mention of me ever being a part of the operation that set out to steal them to begin with. No one even cares that I wasn't really related to Lady Adley.

To the world, I am a hero.

An entire section of the article is dedicated to my dress, my costume for The Enchantress. It's called a masterpiece, a gown that breathes life into whoever wears it, as if it were made of magic. And they call me "The gifted modiste without a Talent."

With such high praise, and with Josephine's fashion house closed, it's no wonder people have flooded our shop. Suddenly everyone wants a creation by the House of Finley.

"There was another arrest yesterday, did you hear?" Madame says as she hangs the framed article on a small hook on the wall. "Those thugs are not so loyal after all, it seems. With the right amount of pressure, they all started turning on each other."

"Unfortunately, they're still chasing that Dahlia woman." Renée shakes her head. "I really can't believe she wasn't there when it all happened."

My stomach tenses, and a bitter taste fills my mouth.

She was there.

I let her go.

The lingering connection between us was too much for me to fight. But I could never bring myself to speak that particular truth. Not that it matters. Dahlia's entire network has been exposed and ruined. And with all of society aware of her operation, rebuilding it would be practically impossible.

I shake the thoughts of Dahlia from my head.

All I can do now is focus on the future. On a life without her seductive ways and dark promises. A life of integrity that honors Father's legacy.

This is the reason I had everyone come today.

"We should start, before the shop opens." I clear my throat before turning to Lirone. "Are you sure you're feeling strong enough? "

He gives me his signature eye roll. "I've been all healed up for weeks. You guys are way too worried about it."

"You lost a lot of blood, mon petit monstre." Renée runs a hand through Lirone's thick blond curls, her motherly affections spilling out with each word. "You know we had to wait."

Lirone pouts, but he doesn't try to escape her touch. He has been living at Madame and Renée's home ever since he left the hospital. And I have a strong feeling that the arrangement will be permanent.

"Are you sure about this, Cleo?" Anaella takes my hand in hers. "You know that if you want to keep it, I'll support you."

"I don't think there's a soul in the city who wouldn't," Madame says. "Especially after they found out that old Lady Adley used to be one of the thieves. Not to mention that all the legal paperwork names you as the rightful heir."

I shake my head. "It's not my calling. Music isn't in my blood . . . not without the magic. But it is in Lirone's." I reach for the drawer in my desk. The ruby ring pulses when I pick it up, the magic singing in my veins. "Let's do it."

Lirone's eyes light up as he looks at the ring. "I'm ready."

Taking a thin silver knife from the desk, I carefully insert the blade under the prongs holding the gem and twist. The setting loosens without much of a fight. But disassembling the ring is the easy part. With a deep breath, I slice my palm, tracing the same original cut. This scar will stay with me forever, but now I can repurpose its memory. "The shinier the jewel, the bloodier the Talent," I say, echoing the words Dahlia spoke so long ago. But it isn't my blood that the stone craves anymore. I close my hand over the gem and the magic reacts at once, the ruby pulsing in time with my heart.

"Let me." Renée takes Lirone's palm in hers gently, and with a steady hand copies the cut I made on mine, only far deeper. He flinches but doesn't cry in pain.

My arm trembles as I pass the ruby to him, and his own blood coats the gem. At once my body quiets down, the static flow of magic evaporating and leaving me with a blessed calm. The absence of magic used to fill me with emptiness, but now I'm simply lighter, freer. I slip Father's empty ring over my finger and smile.

I am myself again.

"How do you feel?" Madame asks Lirone.

"I feel . . . like I want to sing!"

We all laugh.

It's all so right.

Anaella squeezes my good hand and whispers to me, "Father would be so proud. I am too."

A bell rings in the shop, drawing our attention.

"What time is it?" I ask. "My first appointment should be at ten."

"Still a few minutes. They can wait," Anaella says.

"You have so many clients," Madame notes. "You'll need help soon."

"I already have that covered," I say as I wrap a fresh bandage over the cut. Renée does the same for Lirone. "I've sent the doctor to care for Basset's sister. He wrote to me yesterday that she'll be ready to travel in a few weeks."

"Basset? Your old coachman who . . ."

"Died . . . yes." My heart clenches. "He was trying to care for his family. Now I will do that for him. Starting with training his sister—she will have a craft and a future."

Madame rests her hand on my shoulder and gives me a small squeeze. The bell rings again, impatiently.

"Maybe Véronique is early," Anaella says.

"You have Véronique coming in today?" Madame raises her brow. "Who would have thought I'd see the day she came to an establishment famous for its owners' lack of Talent. The world truly has gone wonderfully mad."

I chuckle as I walk to the front, all ready to ask Véronique to wait and then face her "charming" retorts. But it's not the diva standing by the door .

Heat rushes to my cheeks as Vicomte Lenoir walks in, waving a large scroll in his hand. His light forest-green silk vest glints in the morning sun, brightening the color of his eyes and contrasting his perfect, sun-kissed skin. I smile as I take in his messy hair and crooked tie—his disheveled look both familiar and inviting.

"Am I interrupting?" he asks. "I brought the new design ideas for the expansion."

"Perfect timing, actually," I say, as he spreads the paper over the counter, revealing a beautiful sketch of a modern, elegant shop that would put Josephine's store to shame.

"I believe we can remodel the entire building." His voice rings with excitement. "I'm already working on getting the permits." He pauses for a second, hesitant. "I also brought you these."

From behind his back, he pulls a bouquet of white roses, their sweet scent enveloping me.

"They're wonderful!" I say. "Thank you, my lord."

"My lord?" He cocks his eyebrow at me. "I thought I told you to call me Nuriel."

"Ugh, just kiss already!" Lirone whines from the back.

Laughter fills the air, but all I can see are Nuriel's magnetic green eyes as he leans in closer.

"Cleo, I think we'd better open. It's almost ten," Anaella says before our lips can meet.

I pull away from Nuriel reluctantly. "I'll be right back."

My smile is unwavering as I turn to the door. And as I flip the "Closed" sign to "Open," I feel as though I could fly.