A Clockwork Fairytale by Helen Scott Taylor

a soft rustle of fabric. Pushing aside the crinkly tissue paper, she spread the dress out. Melba’s mouth dropped open and her heart missed a beat. She didn’t want to like the dress, but the material was the color of a summer sky and as silky as rose petals.
    Smoothing her hand over the skirt, she watched light shimmer across the surface, changing the shade of blue. Despite the extravagant material, the dress was a simple style she liked with a fine lace trim around the bodice and the sleeves.
    In a fold of tissue paper underneath the dress, she found a pair of frilly drawers and a thin white underdress. She tugged off her breeches, jacket, and shirt and pulled on the underthings, then turned to look at herself in the mirror. She’d never had underclothes before. Master Maddox used to tell her drawers were only for nobs. She’d definitely come up in the world now she had frilly drawers. Carefully, she lifted the blue dress, stepped into it, and pushed her arms through the sleeves. She had hoped she could dress herself, but the tiny hooks on the back were out of reach.
    Holding the back closed, Melba pressed her tongue against the back of her teeth and examined herself in the mirror. Her hair had grown an inch or more and surrounded her face with a thick fringe of golden waves. The blue dress brought out the color of her eyes and now her pale skin was clean, the fine line of her golden eyebrows showed. She really did look like a girl now. A flurry of mixed emotions confused her. The dress was so pretty she couldn’t deny she liked the way it made her look, but at the same time, she didn’t want to be a girl. She prodded her swelling chest. Thank the Great Earth Jinn the bodice wasn’t tight. The thought of having to go before Master Turk with her bubbies bulging out made her want to hide.
    What would he think when he saw her in the dress? Would he be pleased that she looked like a girl? Would he think she was pretty? Her heart pattered and she snatched a breath. She flexed her fingers against the silky fabric and gathered her courage. “Master Turk,” she shouted in a quavering voice. “I’m ready.”

    ***

    When Melba called Turk’s name, he was sitting on the chair outside her room holding a wooden box of beauty preparations. Good sense screamed at him not to step inside her room while she was changing, let alone touch her to fasten her dress. She was no longer the skinny ragamuffin he’d brought home; she was a princess in the making. Why in the name of the Great Earth Jinn had he agreed to help her dress? He should have put his foot down and made her accept Gwinnie’s help. Yet one look at her big blue eyes and he found himself saying yes when he should be saying no.
    Grabbing a breath, he stood and opened her bedchamber door. She was staring at herself in the mirror. She swung around with a soft swish of silk and held out her arms at her sides. “What do you think?” she asked with a tentative smile.
    For a few seconds Turk forgot to breathe. He’d chosen the blue silk to match her eyes and the effect was stunning. Her mother had been a celebrated beauty and Melba resembled the pictures of the queen. Up till now, he’d thought of Mel as neither male nor female, but simply a project. He would never make that mistake again. With her soft golden curls, female curves, and delicate beauty, she was undeniably a young lady.
    Her grin faded and he realized he hadn’t responded to her question. “You look very… nice,” he said, his normally sharp wits struggling to find an appropriate adjective.
    She turned and presented her back to him. “You gonna do me up then?”
    “Of course.” He placed the beauty box on her dressing table and stared at the slice of milk-white skin and silky chemise visible through the gaping back of her dress. His fingers felt hot and clumsy as he flexed them. Nothing he’d experienced had prepared him to perform this simple task. During his time in the cloistered community of