Oh, good! You’re just in time!” Melpomene rushed them inside, her small wings fluttering with excitement and causing her to hover more than walk. “Hurry, hurry! We don’t have much time!”

“Take off those rags at once,” the designer said. “I need you to put this on.”

She pushed an enormous bundle of cerulean fabric into Amber’s arms, then turned away again to fuss with something on her work bench.

“Um.” Amber looked around her at the empty store and at the fabric in her arms. “Is there a changing room?”

“Don’t be silly,” Melpomene scoffed. “Just get changed. Hurry now! We have less than an hour before the party!”

Amber glanced at Atropos who, with an apologetic smile, turned his back to her. Amber, embarrassed but not seeing another option, began taking off the plain clothing she’d gotten from the computer and then tried to figure out how to put on the blue dress.

When she eventually found the neck hole and pulled it on over her head, she gasped in awe at the sight of it.

“Oh, Melpomene, it’s beautiful!” she said, awed.

The long gown was a sculptural masterpiece composed of overlapping butterfly wings. Bright blue green edged in deep black, sparkling with beadwork done in crystal and sapphire, so fine and subtle as to be almost invisible, mimicking the scales of true wings. The skirt fell in elegant petals, wingtips that brushed the floor and fluttered like she might take off at any moment, then swept up over the bodice in an asymmetrical neckline that curved gracefully around Amber’s throat.

“Ah, fantastic,” Melpomene said, turning back to look. “I guessed well. I’m very rarely wrong, you know. Still, some tweaking is needed.”

Atropos started to turn around to look and Melpomene brandished a fabric swatch at him to stop him.

“Shoo, shoo! You can see it when it’s done!” she declared. “I don’t care how ferocious you are!”

Atropos let himself be herded away, going to meander around the front of the store as Melpomene got to work adjusting the hemline and the fit, adding more beading in places, taking it away in others, and adding finishing touches, like the long, dark blue chiffon scarf that attached at the shoulder and wrists and trailed behind her like the suggestion of wings.

Finally, Amber showed her the things they’d gotten from the market, and Melpomene chose the shoes and jewelry that would best match the gown, then did her hair and makeup as well.

“What sort of designer would I be if I couldn’t do my own styling?” she declared loftily when Amber expressed surprise at this. For more than an hour, Amber let Melpomene work on her, feeling a bit silly about the whole thing. Amber knew how plain she was. No amount of makeup or fancy dresses would fix that. She still vividly remembered the time when she was eight or nine and her mother had dressed her up for Christmas in an avalanche of ruffles and bows and lip gloss and her uncle had laughed and called her a painted pig. She’d never really regained an interest in makeup.

Finally, the designer stepped back, put down her tools, and nodded in satisfaction.

“There,” she said. “Perfect. And quite impressive, I think, considering the time restraints. Now if I’d had a few days warning—”

“She looks incredible,” Atropos said, appearing from the front of the store with a smile. “Stunning.”

“Thank you,” Amber said, pink with embarrassment. “But you don’t need to flatter me. It’s just the dress. Melpomene is amazing.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Melpomene replied, summoning a full-length mirror with a wave of her hand. “I am amazing, but the purpose of clothing is to enhance what is already there. The dress is beautiful because you are in it.”

Amber stared, wide-eyed, at the girl in the mirror. She almost didn’t recognize herself. She’d dressed up before, but she always tended to choose clothes that were loose and boxy and simple. She didn’t think she had anything to show off, so she’d tried to hide it instead.

Wearing something so form-fitting, hugging and accentuating the curves of her breasts and hips before it flared into the beautiful full skirt, felt both embarrassing and exhilarating all at once. Melpomene had pinned her hair up in elaborate whorls that echoed the graceful sweep of the wings on the dress.

The makeup made her eyes look startlingly large and captivating. Though she’d always thought of them as boring brown, here they were illuminated in shades of mahogany and gold. She felt, for the first time in her life, genuinely beautiful, and she didn’t know what to do with that feeling.

“You will be the most lovely being in the ship tonight,” Atropos said, taking her hand. “I am honored to accompany you.”

“Not just yet, you aren’t,” Melpomene replied, grabbing him by the wing and tugging him away. “Did you think I would not have something prepared for you as well? We must get you dressed!”

She dragged him off toward her workbench, and Amber stepped away to give him privacy. A little while later, he emerged, dressed in almost the same shade of blue she was wearing, which set off the orange in his wings. In shape, it clearly referenced the coat and cravat of seventeenth-century France, but with long, robe-like draping made to trail dramatically while he was in the air.

“You look like something out of a fairy tale,” Amber said earnestly, too stunned to be self-conscious.

“Then we suit each other more than usual,” Atropos replied, taking her arm. “Although, to be frank, I feel a bit foolish. I do not usually dress this vibrantly.”

“You should!” Amber smiled at him, her predicament momentarily forgotten.

“She is right,” Melpomene chimed in. “A little color suits you. You cannot be so grim all the time.”

A strange chime sounded, like struck crystal, and Atropos looked back toward the entrance.

“We should go,” he said. “The party is beginning.”

* * *

The party took place on one of the largest balconies near the bottom of the sphere with compelling views of the garden. The balcony itself overflowed with hanging plants and flowers. Fountains and crystal sculptures stood among heaps and mountains of flowers in more colors than Amber could easily name.

She was dazzled by the lush delicate beauty of it all, and most of all, by the Lepidopterix that moved among that regal décor, each one luminous in color, wings shimmering with every graceful movement.

They could not approach any way but ostentatiously, descending a glass staircase down to the edge of the balcony. Atropos supported her by the hand and flew beside her, the tails of his suit trailing dramatically while hers flowed down the glass like a waterfall of silk. Amber squeezed his hand tighter as she saw the people below freezing to look up at them, murmuring behind their hands.

“Just stay close to me,” he said. “Everything will be fine.”

They alighted on the balcony and the crowd parted to give them space, staring openly. For a moment, there was silence except for the whispers. A couple of Sara Longwings, iridescent blue-black, were the first to break the silence, edging closer to look Amber over.

“Is that really a human?” One of them asked, ostensibly to Atropos, though they didn’t look at him or seem to expect an answer.

“It’s so drab compared to the ones in the films,” the other said with a pout.

“All the pretty blue silk in the world can’t make up for that unfortunate hair,” said the first with a scoff.

A susurrus of laughter from the watching crowd followed this, and Amber felt her brief excitement drain out of her like a popped balloon.

“There must be something special about it for Flight Leader to have picked it for his brother,” another Lepidopterix said, moving closer, followed by others.

“Maybe it is more brightly colored on the inside?”

“Maybe it can do tricks?”

“Yes, do a trick, human!”

Amber, uneasy, pressed closer to Atropos. A sudden angry buzz disrupted the reaching crowd as a wind stirred Amber’s hair. Atropos’s wings stood out from his back, vibrating with a sudden violent tension. The look on his face was one of such cold rage that even Amber was frightened for a moment.

The crowd dispersed quickly, eyeing him as though he were a tiger that walked unleashed among them. Amber, despite her worry, was relieved. She hadn’t expected that reaction from the other Lepidopterix. She’d expected them to be interested, but not like that, so grabby and thoughtless, like she was an object or a pet. They’d spent their whole lives imitating her culture, watching her media. Could they still not recognize that she was a person?

Closer to the center of the balcony, a quintet with human string instruments and a few other instruments that Amber didn’t recognize were playing music. It was high and strange and delicate, seeming to wind through the air like a flowering vine or a butterfly caught in a breeze. Around and above them, the party guests were dancing.

They took to the air, circling one another in an elaborate, fluttering waltz, one supporting the other in the air entirely from time to time. It had only a faint resemblance to the dancing Amber was familiar with. If the human art had evolved to take place along an extra vertical plane, she thought it might look something like this. It was beautiful to watch, at any rate.

“Would you like to dance?” Atropos asked her, smiling at her as she watched the dancers.

“I’m not sure I can,” Amber admitted. “I can’t fly. I’m not even that good at human dancing.”

“I can carry you,” Atropos promised, pulling her closer. “Trust me.”

Amber wasn’t so sure, but she abandoned her shoes on the dance floor anyway, stepping carefully onto the tops of his feet, worried she was hurting him. But he hardly seemed to notice, taking her hand and her waist and opening his wings.

They were much larger and much more powerful fully open than Amber had expected. A flurry of wind caught her hair and her skirts as he lifted them into the air, seeming not in the least bit troubled by the extra weight. They could not perform the darting, complex dance of the others around them, only revolving through the air close to one another.

But Amber, held close to his warm chest, dizzy as they turned and fell through the sky, thought this was probably preferable. She smiled as he lifted her higher, her happiness beginning to return after that unsettling moment in the crowd. The other dancers and the people below still eyed them strangely, but it was easier to bear when Atropos was holding her this close.

There was a pause in the music, and Amber became aware of a sudden spike in the murmurs of the crowd. Atropos looked away, and she followed his gaze to the front of the balcony, where Flight Leader Actian was landing, his vast green wings fluttering to a stop and folding behind him. He was dressed even more beautifully than Atropos in an almost military style, green edged in gold.

Behind him, descending a glass stair that unfolded before them and dissolved behind them, came three aliens that were most definitely not Lepidopterix.

The first was tall and thin and bipedal, with an arrow-shaped head and large compound eyes surrounded by a ruff of yellow and black fuzz. It had three pairs of arms which moved hypnotically about its shiny black thorax, which tapered into a frighteningly thin waist. If Atropos and his people were related to the butterflies and moths of Earth, this being seemed like what happened if you added wasps and bees to the mix. Translucent wings fluttered against its back, but they seemed too small to actually be effective for flight.

The second was much larger and broader and, she thought at first, quadrupedal, until it reached the bottom of the glass stair and sat up and she realized it was more of a centaur. Its hind legs were thick and trunk-like, allowing it to adopt a temporarily bipedal gait, aided by a thick saurian tail for balancing.

Its forelimbs were extraordinarily long arms with a second elbow joint which ended in a three-fingered hand, each finger and the thumb capped with a broad curved nail that together formed something like a hoof. Its neck was long and almost as thick as its torso, ending a blunt head with a pointed, spade-like nose with double-slitted nostrils.

The third looked like nothing so much as a large grey rock trailing ghostly, jellyfish-like fronds from its soft purple underbelly. As it walked, it unfolded numerous spindly legs, red and not much thicker than a pencil, feeling its way forward with tiny claws. As soon as its weight had been shifted off a leg, the leg folded back up into the main mass again and was replaced by another.

Atropos carried Amber back to the ground and went to meet his brother. Amber, staring at the new aliens with frank amazement, stayed close beside him.

"Ah, Atropos," Actian said with a smile when he saw them, turning to the aliens. "May I present my clutch brother, Atropos? This is Vespula of the Hymenopteran, representative of the Apocritic Queen."

He gestured to the wasp thing, which rustled its wings and clicked at them.

"This is Captain Ixion of the Magnesian, leading the Foloi privateer fleet."

He gestured to the centaur creature, which bowed its long torso respectfully.

"And Colony Zoa, Immortal of the Hexacorallia."

The rock alien did not acknowledge the introduction as far as Amber could tell, though maybe some gesture was lost in the constant shifting adjustment of its many tiny limbs.

"It is an honor," Atropos replied, sweeping his wings back as he bowed. When he straightened up, he was looking at Actian with a concerned frown. "I assume they are your guests for the auction?"

"They have arrived a bit early," Actian explained. "I invited them to indulge themselves in the comforts of our ship for a time as we discuss the particulars of our partnership."

"I see," Atropos said.

"Is this the animal?" the wasp thing, Vespula of the Hymenopteran, said. Or rather, it clicked its mouth parts and buzzed its wings and emitted a strange, acrid smell, and the computer translated, surprising Amber as it broadcast the words into her mind in a soothing monotone.

Vespula reached for her, grabbing her by the arm almost before she realized what was happening. Its six strange hands ran over her with businesslike speed and indifference.

"It seems far too small and delicate to bear many eggs. And once they hatched, the larva would hardly be able to feed for a day before it expired."

Amber made a frightened noise, horrified as much by that mental image as by the invasive hands. In the next instant, Atropos had yanked her away, his wings fanning wide in warning. The Hymenopteran raised its wings as well with a dangerous sounding buzz. Actian stepped in quickly.

"That is one of the same species, yes," he said. "But it is a pet for my brother, not decent breeding stock. I will show you our prime specimens after the party."

"And they are sturdier?" Vespula asked suspiciously.

"Of course," Actian assured him. "We have several larger morphs that I'm certain will please you."

The Hymenopteran settled down, though it still eyed Atropos with hostility.

"I don't mind the small ones," Captain Ixian, the centaur creature, said in a low, deep rumble, leaning closer to her, though it didn't reach for her, respectful of Atropos's arm still around her shoulders protectively. "It looks soft. I could break it without even trying."

Ixian loomed nearer until Amber could feel its warm breath on her face. It had an almost seal-like face, with wet, dark eyes.

"What do you say, little one?" it asked. "Would you like to be mine? I would give you clothes and toys and kisses, and any other thing you desired."

"This one is taken," Atropos said brusquely, a small hiss in his voice.

"There will be humans of far better quality at the auction, Captain, " Actian assured him with a chuckle. "There's no reason to rush for a low-grade specimen like that. Come, let me show you all the buffet."

Actian hurried them away, and Amber shuddered, finally loosening her grip on his hand.

"You can't let him give humans to any of those people," she said, pale with fear at the thought. "Did you hear what that wasp wanted to do?"

Atropos hummed in acknowledgement, looking slightly worried.

"Let us try to enjoy the evening," he said, leading her away.