Antebellum Awakening (The Network Series #2)(31)

“What is it?” I asked, running my fingertips along the seams. It felt much softer than silk to touch, but light like linen. I never wanted to take it off.

“It’s called linea. It originally came from the Eastern Network.”

Linea. I’d heard of it before. It was the strongest of fabrics and exquisitely expensive. I pulled my fingers away, frightened even to touch it. If it came from the East, it meant this material must have been over a century old. There hadn’t been any trade amongst the Networks since the Mansfeld Pact, a treaty that banned trade, interference, or the conducting of business across Network borders. We remained self-sufficient instead. Although there was an underground market for this sort of thing, the High Priestess would never wear material that had been obtained illegally.

“I can’t wear this,” I said, meeting Henrietta’s eyes in a panic. “I’ll destroy it. It must be over a hundred years old. I can’t even pour tea without spilling.”

“Or worse,” Leda called.

Camille stood on tiptoe and pulled a leaf fragment out of my hair. “She’s right, Henrietta,” Camille said. “Bianca’s a mess.”

Henrietta acted as if she hadn’t heard and pointed to my leather shoes, shooting a glance at the red-haired maid. The girl seized my ankle and removed the shoes immediately.

“Hey!” I clambered after her, nearly falling off the chair, but Henrietta pushed me back into place. “Those are mine! Papa made them for me.”

Henrietta cast a revolted look at the slippers. “Although I think they should be destroyed, I won’t throw them away. We’re just taking them off for the fitting so we can get a proper hem. The High Priestess chose this particular fabric from her stores just for you. You’ll wear it, and you’ll like it.”

“I’ll destroy it.”

“It’s a hardy material. Don’t worry. You’ll not get it so dirty that I can’t clean it up.”

Just you wait.

The maids continued to pin and re-pin the hem, tailed by the cloud of needles. When they poked me again near the ankle I let out a yelp, then growled at them.

“Abbee, the mirror, please,” Henrietta said.

One of the seamstresses left and reappeared with a long mirror drifting in behind her. Henrietta turned me toward it with a self-satisfied smirk.

“See?”

When I looked into the mirror to see the dress, the girl in the reflection startled me. The dress’s elegant sapphire color blended magnificently with my dark hair and gray eyes. Though unfinished, the curves of the unfinished material set off my girlish figure to give me an older, matured bearing.

Camille beamed.

“It’s not even done yet and you look beautiful, Bianca!” she cried, grabbing my hair and twisting it onto my head in various positions. “We could curl your hair and put it here, like this. Ooh, or this! It would be so pretty.”

“With a little work on that wild mane you should clean up well enough for the ball,” Henrietta murmured.

Their words slipped through my mind with all the permanence of a gust of wind. Whatever they said, I didn’t care. All I could see was my reflection, and what I saw made my heart’s dragon stir with a little cry of pain. I didn’t know why the powers started building when I ran my hand along the high waistline, enjoying the fabric’s silky touch. Not even I, the girl with blisters on her hands who loved to run in pants, could dispute the grace that a dress of this caliber lent to a forest-child like me.

Mama’s gray eyes whirred through my mind, seizing my chest in a sudden rush of angst. I gazed at myself in the mirror again, staring hard.

Just like Mama. I look just like Mama.

In a breath, the magic slipped away from my heart for just a second, leaving with a faint tingle before I reined it back in a moment later. The mirror split with a loud crack, creating an intricate web of edges from top to bottom. Only pieces of my hair and dress remained visible, showing in glimpses of blue and black.

“Oh dear!” Henrietta cried, startled. “Oh dear, dear, dear. What happened? I don’t know what happened. My lovely mirror! Abbee, this is your fault!”

“No!” the small redhead cried. “I wasn’t even touching it.”

Both Camille and Leda shot me sharp looks.

“Quite strange,” I said quickly. “I’m sure we can find you another one, Miss Henrietta. The gown is gorgeous. Thank you for working on it. Would you like me to take it off now?”

“Yes, I suppose,” she said, shooting Abbee a dark look. “Let’s be on our way now, girls. We have a mirror to fix and a few more dresses to finish. I think I know an incantation to reverse this. Camille, we’ll have your ivory gown finished in just a week or two.”

The garment flew over my head in a violent flap, almost knocking me off the chair and leaving me standing in my undergarments. It gathered itself together and fell in a drape across Henrietta’s shoulder.

“Well, merry part,” Henrietta said, her troubled gaze lingering on the mirror as it floated out of the room ahead of them.

“Thank you, Miss Henrietta,” I called, feeling a twinge of guilt over her mirror. The three women disappeared down the stairs.

“Oh, Bianca,” Camille cried, collapsing onto the couch behind her. “That dress was beautiful! You looked lovely. But why would you break that mirror?”