Page 82 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

“I will be right there!” Revelie called from the back room where she so often sat, sewing the latest gowns.

Emillie strode past the mannequin in the front window wearing a beautiful gown of sparkling sapphire and silver. Silhouettes moved past the window; lithe vampires and tall, imposing fae. Even a lycan stalked by alongside its high fae counterpart, likely on their way to setting up their stall for the night.

Yet despite the sheer number of figures moving about outside, the street appeared far less crowded than normal. The last time she had made her way into town almost a week ago, there had been nearly double the merchants…and half the soldiers.

It had been after the last Council meeting that the changes began. More and more soldiers arrived from the Hub, their uniforms a constant crimson swath in the background of her life. The guards around the Harlow Estate began speaking with them more often, and patrolling the lands alongside those employed directly by her father. Meanwhile, he appeared less and less pleased with their sudden appearance in their lives and grew distant because of it.

Emillie could not decipher whether or not she felt more at ease with the sudden involvement of the army in Laeton. Most did not pay her much mind, though she felt their eyes trailing her anytime she stepped out of her carriage. Without Ariadne around, she stuck to traveling in the way she felt most comfortable. While she loved her mare, Lily, she also did not thrive in the saddle the same way her sister always had.

“Emillie!” Revelie’s voice jolted through her thoughts.

Tearing her unfocused gaze from the storefront window, she turned to greet her friend. Madame Revelie Ives, the best seamstress in Laeton and one of the few Caersan women to own her own business, had been the Season’s Golden Rose several years prior to her and Ariadne’s debuts. If nothing else, it had impressed upon her how much her distaste for the Society had grown, and she left shortly thereafter to pursue her dream in fashion design.

Revelie’s kinky black hair was twisted back from her face with thin ribbons to where it haloed out around her head. Her deep brown skin seemed to glow under the store’s candlelight. When she moved, her sage green dress shimmered with each shift, so when she wrapped her arms around Emillie, it was like hugging a peridot gem.

“You are early,” Revelie said with a glance at the candle melting away the hours. “Is Camilla still joining us?”

“She should be here any minute.” Emillie gave her friend a sad smile. “I needed to get out of the manor. It has been suffocating.”

“I can only imagine.” The Caersan looked around, then peered out the front window. “Where is your guard?”

Emillie made a face. “Sul is taking care of the carriage. I asked him to give me space.”

As though she ever wanted that sullen man around. Just his presence made her skin crawl. There was something about the way he watched her that made her uneasy. As though he were watching her soul.

With a clipped nod in acknowledgment, Revelie spoke as she walked into the back room of her shop. “I feel I am very close to finishing your dress. Would you like to try it on while you are here today?”

A hot, hard lump formed in Emillie’s gut. Her dress. Her wedding dress. The one gown she did not look forward to wearing. Though, considering who her husband was to be and the agreements between them, she could not complain too much. Of the potential suitors, Alek Nightingale proved himself again and again.

Naturally, she would prefer to marry a woman. Given her current position, however, she had little choice but to continue with the engagement. As though her father would ever allow her to break it off after what happened between Ariadne and Loren. The last thing they needed was another scandal on their hands. She had worked too hard to ensure her future would be secure with Alek.

And he had yet to let her down when it came to protecting her.

“I would love to see how it looks,” Emillie said, swallowing back her discomfort at the thought.

All too aware of her feelings on the matter, Revelie gave her a tight smile before turning to the door as it swung open to let in Camilla.

All other thoughts left Emillie in a flash as the three of them exchanged embraces and talk turned to Camilla’s latest exploits. She gushed over the newest Rusan cook in her household. The woman had left Laeton a week prior, just as the soldiers began making their appearance around the town. She was, according to Camilla, the best dessert chef she had ever met and had no qualms with flirting with her anytime she visited the kitchen.

“Clementine’s specialty is créme brulée,” Camilla added with a knowing look to Revelie. “You absolutely must visit, doll, and I will have her make it for us.”

Revelie hummed her delight at the thought, having always enjoyed such delicacies. “I will certainly be doing that very soon. With the Season so close to ending, the orders are not in need of my constant attention.”

“Fantastic!” Camilla clapped her hands in delight and floated around the store to look at the different fabrics on display. She paused beside a velvet the color of red wine, running her fingers over the softness before turning back around to pierce Emillie with her russet eyes. “Lord Governor Nightingale’s ball was lovely.”

Warmth flushed across Emillie’s cheeks. “It was indeed.”

“Are you excited to be married?” Revelie asked, tilting her head to the side. “To at least receive more freedom to do as you wish, I mean.”

“Alek and I have come to an agreement,” Emillie said carefully, glancing over her shoulder to ensure the door had not opened again despite the small bell overhead not tinkling with warning.

Camilla’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “And does that include allowing you your vices?”

She nodded. “So long as I provide an heir eventually, he does not care with whom I spend my days.”

With a sigh of relief, Revelie said, “I am glad he has been so understanding.”

“Indeed.” Emillie bit her lip for a long time, the memory of that fiery red hair spotted through the crowd tugging at her. She looked at Camilla. “Do you remember Kyra from the Bistro?”

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