Her camp shimmered at the edge of the clearing. Silks in deep plum and mustard fluttered between wagons painted in fading constellations. I found her seated at a little table carved from something ancient and smiling —and, before I spoke a word, she lifted her hand—long fingers heavy with rings—and began tracing a shape in the air. A spiral. A crescent. A secret sign. Then she sang—not in words, exactly, but in notes that curved around me like ribbon. The forest stilled. The lanterns leaned closer. And suddenly— The fabric I wore dissolved into seafoam mist.
In its place flowed the sexiest sea-green shirt-like tunic dress, called Lunelle made by Aura Designs cut just so. Crafted from the finest fabric I have ever felt—liquid, luminous, impossibly soft. It skimmed my waist like its shoulders, kissed the curve of my hips. I looked down, breath caught in my throat. Madame LaMour nodded. “Better. Now you resemble your longing.”
I dared to ask, “What else do I need?” She stood and moved toward a velvet-lined chest at her side. From it, she drew out a pair of opal earrings and a necklace made by Zuri called Spellbound that held a single opal drop—each stone alive with secret fire. Blues, blush, green lightning, soft moonlight—all shifting with the tilt of the air. She fastened the necklace around my throat. The opal settled at my collarbone like it belonged there. When she clasped the earrings into place, the forest seemed to lean nearer still, and a nightbird began to sing. I left the glen different than I had entered—sea green silk brushing my skin, opals catching starlight, and the dangerous suspicion that what I had been seeking was not love at all…
