Torrent of Tears (Scourge Survivor Series Book 3)(9)
“Do you have a gown ready for your Sixth-day celebration?” Stitch asked.
“Yeah, a Vera Wang strapless—” I sighed. That dress was hanging in the Haven castle awaiting the bacchanalia ball that was scheduled to take place in six days. Not that anyone in my family seemed all that enthusiastic about it. I bit my lip and shook my head. At least here, my birthday was an event to be celebrated. “I have a beautiful dress in the other realm. Do you think I could send for it?”
Stitch shook his wispy, white head, looking mildly affronted. “I’m afraid not, Princess. A few years back Attalos went through a bad time. The city was sealed off from the other realms and the nobles forbade further import from the two realms. Attalos builds on its own foundation now.”
“Oh . . . I see.”
“Don’t let that sadden you, Princess, I have long finished the preparations for the other Eligibles and will dedicate my undivided attention to creating something spectacular for you. If you wish, of course? I would never overstep.”
As he pulled out the fabric swatches again and started to fidget and pat, I shook my head. “No. I’d love to see what you come up with. Should I come back for a fitting tomorrow?”
He lowered his eyes and wrung his hanky in weathered but nimble hands. “Could you give me two moonrises? I must send for a few things from the middle rings. I do apologize.”
“The middle rings?”
Stitch dabbed his forehead with his fabric hanky again. “My apologies, Princess. Attalos is laid out with the palace and water lands serving as the nucleus of our world and then the other Faery elemental lands expand in great rings. Next to water is earth, then wind and the outer ring is fire. It rests against the far edges of the cupola shield. I will have to get the permits to import what I need from earth and wind, but I am sure the result will be well worth it.”
“No worries. Two moonrises it is.” After Stitch and I exited our little funhouse of mirrors, I joined Freya where she’d propped herself on the counter by the door. She was peeking outside from behind the shade, obviously unamused by our little Project Runway.
I patted the pockets of my leathers as I folded them and slipped them into a woven bag I’d been given. “How should I pay you for my gown?”
Freya let out a horrified squeak.
Stitch shrugged. “I am in lifelong servitude, Princess. All I have is yours to take. There is no cost to you or anyone of the royal line.”
To take? Before I could respond, Freya grabbed my wrist.
“We have more important issues to address.” Freya pushed the door open and dragged me out behind her. “We’ll never get back before the Queen retires if we don’t get going.”
I barely snatched up the bag with my Haven clothes before she yanked me out the shop door. “Thank you, Stitch,” I called over my shoulder. “I appreciate your help.”
Freya stopped as if she’d hit an invisible barrier and whirled, her lips flapping a mile a minute. It took me a second to turn down the sound of the ocean again, but I got the gist of her rant. “—servitude, for goddess sake. You are an Eligible. Why don’t you get that?”
“He is a man who spent the better part of the past two hours with his shop closed so he could dress me. A quick thanks is the least I can offer him, especially since he won’t get paid. And since we’re on the subject, how is that right?”
Freya rolled her eyes and I had to stop myself from smacking her. That was getting real old, real fast. “What does it matter? He’s in—”
“—servitude. Yeah, I got that.” With my temper raising I felt the tension snap in the air of the courtyard around us. My instincts kicked into high gear and I reached for my knife. Right. Damn. I hated being light on steel. I glanced into my bag to ensure my battle-vest weapons were within reach.
Freya cast me a dirty look before turning a saccharine sweet smile toward an officer moving to join us amongst the now dense and unsettled crowd. “Master Constable Estes.”
“Princess Love.” The officer bowed as he stopped before us. Standing more built than any other man in the crowd, Estes reminded me of the warriors of home. Thick, dark hair pulled back in a queue, charming smile and biceps the size of my head. He wore a guard uniform, like the others, but his chest plate was brass instead of bronze and he wore a full, indigo cape instead of the colored banding strips across his shoulder brackets.
“What are you ladies doing here unattended?” Without waiting for our reply, he raised a long, gold whistle to his lips and after two short peeps and one long, two more soldiers cut through the throng of the crowd to join us. “Return the Princesses to the Palace. I don’t trust this mob and I wouldn’t want anything unforeseen to happen.”
Mob? It looked like a whole lotta normal people worked up about a guy getting his head lopped off. “Actually, I’d like to see what’s going on.”
“That isn’t possible, Princess. This is a military matter.”
I lifted my wrist to the Master Constable and called my brand. As the enchanted ink of Talon’s signature golden hawk prickled onto my skin his eyes widened. “I am a Talon warrior, a military enforcer in all realms. Don’t let the gown and heels fool you, Master Estes.”
I’m not sure the officer knew what to make of me, but he made a valiant effort to smile. “Be that as it may, I don’t think that under the circumstances, that is such a—”