“You’re not the only one who has found favour with
the royals,” she purred, and pulled up her grey sleeve to reveal a bracelet of gold filigree.
“Roulaini goldwork,” Marta said, her voice flat. “What did you have to steal to get that? Or was it your reward for giving Creel’s shoes to that horrid brat of a princess?”
“Shardas,” I whispered.
“A magnificent animal, from what I have heard,” Larkin agreed. “Did you know, Marta, that it takes only a few hours to get from the New Palace to Rath Forest, as the dragon flies? Or so dear Princess Amalia has just told me.”
Without thinking I picked up the long shears sitting on the table beside me and, grabbing one of Larkin’s braids before she could flinch away, I cut it off, very neatly, at the nape of her neck.
“What are you doing?” Derda had come back and looked at me like I’d lost my mind.
Looking at the plait in my hand, I thought perhaps I had. I dropped the hair and the shears on the table.
“I quit,” I said in a voice that was surely too calm to be my own.
“Caxon’s bones, girl,” Derda said, hurrying to put her arm around Larkin’s shoulders. The crippled girl was clutching at her shorn hair and weeping. “What have you done?”
“She deserved it,” Marta said staunchly.
“I didn’t do anything!” Larkin said, glaring at us through her tears.
“I will not work side by side with a spy and a traitor,” I said in that same calm voice.
“Mind your tongue! That’s a serious accusation,” Derda snapped.
“It’s the truth.” I thought of Shardas and bile rose in my throat. “It’s the truth.” I glared back at Larkin.
“Larkin has worked for me for ten years, since she was only a slip of a girl,” Derda said in a high, angry voice. “And you, you country bumpkin, come here and in two months you set out to ruin me!”
Without replying, I went to the large clothes press where the gowns in progress were kept. I pulled out the gold gown and wrapped it in cheesecloth. Marta had followed me, and she pulled out a basket full of the roses that I had cut off the gown.
“They’re yours,” she pointed out, her expression daring anyone to argue with her. “Maybe we can find a use for them sometime. And these are yours, too.” She hefted the basket of embroidery silks she had purchased from Derda and the paper-wrapped packet of candles Ihad bought.
Nodding, I went up the narrow stairs to the small room I had shared with Marta and Alle. I packed my small bundle of things: my belt loom, my book, my old country gown and sandals, a wooden comb, a set of whalebone knitting needles, and Luka’s pearls. It was a pitiful summation of my life, made even more pitiful by the fact that it fitted easily into the basket of discarded roses, with room for the candles as well. Marta put my
carefully folded and wrapped gown in the other basket, with the embroidery silks, and walked with me to the door of the shop.
“Where will you go?”
“Ulfrid’s inn,” I replied, having just that moment thought of it. The sun was setting, and guardsmen would soon begin enforcing the curfew.
“Finish the gown there,” Marta said, her voice barely above a whisper. Derda was standing a few paces away, glaring. “Go to the Merchants’ Ball, like you planned. I still want to be your partner. You have a true gift.” And she gave me a quick hug.
“Thank you,” I said, feeling awkward, and not just because I had a heavy basket hanging from each hand. I looked over her shoulder at Derda, but could think of nothing to say. I turned on my heel and left.
Ulfrid took me in without a word. Over tea and spiced biscuits I told her everything: the theft of the slippers, the decision to go to the Merchants’ Ball, Larkin’s betrayal, the fear that something had happened to Shardas.
“Who was this?” Ulfrid looked confused at this last detail.
“A friend. A very dear friend. Amalia must want him for … something. I don’t know what. But Larkin helped her to find him. She’s been to his home, or else Amalia has told her about his home. Something terrible has happened to him, I just know it.”
“First this princess took your slippers, then she took your friend?” Ulfrid was still perplexed. “This is strange indeed.”
“Can we send a message to Luka?”
“Yes. I will ask him to come here tonight, and you
can tell him in person. But for now, I will have a girl show you to your room.”
“So I can stay?”
Ulfrid, in her taciturn way, didn’t bother to answer. She just pushed through the swinging doors into the kitchen, sending a maid out to lead me upstairs. Eyeing me oddly, the serving maid took me to the little room I had occupied almost two months ago, when I had first come to the King’s Seat. I thanked her as I put my things down on the narrow bed.
“What’s that?” She pointed to the gold satin roses spilling out of one of the baskets.
I made a face. “Oh, these?” I picked one up and held it out to her. “This gown that I’m remaking for the Merchants’ Ball had all these ugly roses on it.”
“Is this satin?” She stroked the rose with an admiring finger. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt real satin before.”
“Yes, it is.” I looked at it, thinking that it was too big for her to wear in her hair. Or anywhere else, for that matter. Except … “Here, let me see that again.”
Taking the flower, I pulled a little pair of sewing scissors out of my basket and cut the threads that gathered the satin together. I tugged, and the rose unravelled into a long strip of cloth, folded in half lengthwise.
“I thought so,” I said with satisfaction.
She looked at me with wide eyes. “Why did you do that?”
“There’s enough here to put a border all around your apron,” I told her, gesturing at the long white
apron she wore. “It will go very well with your gown.” All of Ulfrid’s serving maids wore a rich shade of brown.
“Oh, thank you.” She bit her lip. “But I’ve been saving for my dowry. I really don’t think – I mean, that’s very kind of you, but –”
I held up a hand to forestall her. “I understand.” Then an idea struck me. “Well, I’ll need to pay Ulfrid for my room and board somehow. I’ll see if she won’t let me decorate all your aprons in exchange.”
Ulfrid agreed to this, but warned me not to be too generous. “You have only a few weeks to get ready for the Merchants’ Ball,” she reminded me that evening.
I was sitting in the kitchen eating a bowl of chicken stew. The serving maids rushed in and out, carrying trays of food and drink. Whenever the swinging doors opened, a rush of sound came from the main room. Gemma, the fat cook, handed me a slice of bread and cheese with one hand, and used a spoon to whack a slow-moving maid on the rump with the other.
“But this is the only way I can think of to pay you,” I told Ulfrid. “I already owe you for the night I spent months ago, and for taking me to see Derda.”
Ulfrid grunted. “Nothing to that,” she said. “Favours owed, favours paid.” She cut herself a slice of cheese. “I’m not saying that you shouldn’t pay me this time, just that you need to work on your own dress first. Plenty of time after the ball to pay me.” And she went into the main room to see to her patrons.
“Assuming I have any money after the Merchants’ Ball,” I said under my breath.
I had spent the day sewing. The hem of the velvet overskirt was so riddled with holes from the removal of the roses that it had started to tear beneath my needle. I had finally cut it off, hemmed it a hand’s-width shorter, and frantically resketched my design to allow for the abbreviated overskirt. I was pleased with the way the satin underskirts now showed below the velvet, but it had set me back several hours while I trimmed and hemmed and drew. When I had been at Derda’s I had concentrated on the bodice, practising my stitches and experimenting with colours along the neckline and down the sleeves. Now I was ready to begin the most difficult part – the skirt – and my fingers felt stiff and clumsy. My whole future rode on this, and I didn’t know if I was ready.
“Hello, hello!” The swinging doors flew open to reveal Prince Luka, grinning broadly. “Ulfrid sent a message saying that you were here.” He plopped down on a bench across the table from me.
“Luka!” I reached across and clasped both his hands. “It’s so good to see you!” He squeezed my hands in reply, smiling at me.
“Your Highness.” With great formality, Gemma presented the prince with a plate of rolls, soup and cheese, forcing me to let go of him and retreat to my side of the table.
“Ah, thank you, Gemma!” He scarfed down a roll as though he hadn’t eaten all day.
With much less decorum, the cook threw a cheese roll to Tobin, who caught it deftly. He sat on a tall stool in the corner, and a serving maid handed him a mug of ale and a plate of fried onions and sausages.
“We can’t stay very long,” Luka said. He tugged at the collar of his blue velvet coat. “There’s a state dinner tonight, y’see. But Ulfrid said you had something important to tell me.”
“That’s right.” I pushed aside my own meal. “I’m sorry if you’re missing a betrothal feast or something like that, but –”
“I wish,” Luka snorted. “I could miss one of those without batting an eye. This is much worse: Amalia’s father showed up yesterday.”
“What? The Roulaini king?”
He nodded. “King Prilian arrived at the palace bright and early with his guards and his luggage and said that he just couldn’t stand to be separated from his darling daughter a day longer.”
I goggled at him as he downed another roll.
“The whole palace is in an uproar,” he said through his mouthful. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard. The kitchens are working day and night to prepare feasts to celebrate, but nobody has the stomach to eat them.”
“Why not?” My voice was hardly a whisper. This, added to my news, made me feel cold all over.
Luka’s expression darkened. “Something’s going on. Amalia and her father spent most of yesterday and today holed up in her apartments. According to them, they’re
having some touching father-daughter talks, but it’s obvious there’s more to it than that.” He shook his head. “Prilian brought two complete regiments with him as protection, all armed to the teeth and wearing full battle armour. We’ve had to move some of the King’s Guard into the city to make room for the Roulaini men in the barracks. And let me tell you, that doesn’t sit well with Father’s master-of-arms. Father says it’s a show of good faith to let the Roulaini have more men at hand than we do, but I can tell that it makes him uneasy. Frankly, it makes
me
uneasy.”
“Oh, no,” I whispered.
“Creel? What is it?” Luka pushed aside his mug and took my hands again.
“The reason why I quit Derda’s, why I came here,” I said, hardly able to think. “Larkin has a bracelet Amalia gave her. Amalia’s done something to Sh—” I caught myself, swallowed. “Amalia is up to something. I’m not sure how, but somehow my slippers are involved, and something else.” I bit the inside of my cheek, not sure what to say. “I think Amalia may have hurt a friend of mine.”
“What?” Luka rose from his bench, still holding my hands across the table. Tobin got down off his stool and came over, concerned. “Who? Marta?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tobin gesturing with his hands. I shook my head. “Marta’s fine. It’s … another friend. He doesn’t live in the King’s Seat. Larkin has been helping Amalia, more than just giving her my shoes. My friend … he has a great treasure, hidden away, and Larkin somehow knew about it. I think Amalia has
been there, to his … house, and I think she may have harmed him.”
“I don’t understand.” Luka squeezed my hands even tighter. “Who is your friend?”
“He’s a –” Tears pricked my eyelids. “He’s a sort of hermit, you wouldn’t know him.” But I couldn’t think that Amalia would care two figs for Shardas’s windows. She must have wanted him for himself, then. But why? Because he could fly her wherever she wanted to go?
The cook opened the door to one of the huge ovens, and the heat washed over us, making my forehead bead with sweat. Heat. Dragonfire. It could destroy fields, burn people to ash, perhaps even melt the stones of a palace …
“Creel?” Luka was patting my hand to draw me out of my reverie. “Creel? Are you all right?”
“I don’t know what Amalia is planning,” I said, blinking to clear my vision. “But whatever it is, it’s not good. You should go back to the palace and tell your father.”
Luka nodded. “Thank you. So Larkin is helping her? Maybe someone should ask her some questions.” He and Tobin shared a look.
I felt a guilty little surge of satisfaction, to think of Larkin being arrested for treason. To my surprise, Luka came around the table and gave me a tight hug. “I’m sorry about your friend,” he said. “I hope that he’s all right.”
“Thank you.” I hugged him back. “I hope this is all a lot of nothing. Just Amalia being … Amalia.” We both tried to laugh, but it sounded false.
Tobin and the prince left, and I returned to my
room. I began the altered design of the skirt, my fingers shaking. It wasn’t just Amalia being Amalia, I knew. Why would she want to hurt Shardas? And her father’s sudden arrival was no coincidence.
Luka did not return to Ulfrid’s. Two days later I received a note saying that things were too tense at the palace for him to slip away, but again he wished me the best at the Merchants’ Ball. I put the note in the little box with my pearls and his other letter, and went back to work.
All day long and into the night I stitched away on my gown. The pictures were taking shape, the creased and hole-pricked velvet taking on new life. Whenever the colour of the embroidery threads started to swim and swirl, I would set it aside and do a little “regular sewing”: putting gold satin borders on the aprons of Ulfrid’s serving maids.
For three weeks all I could do was pray and sew and hope that I would finish my gown in time for the Merchants’ Ball. If there still was a Merchants’ Ball this year.
We might just be having a war instead.
Everyone was staring at me. I could feel their eyes running over me, over every inch of my gown and every braid of my intricately bound hair. If I had managed to eat anything at all that day, I’m sure I would have thrown it up then and there.