Page 48 of Vale of Dreams

He scrubs his hand over his jaw, and I can hear him mumbling, “A tiny pig farmer. Runty. Interesting, interesting. What will he think of next?”

I toss my hair over my shoulder again. “The prince and I met last night, and we just hit it off. I showed him our apple grove, or what’s left of it. And it seems he found me intriguing.”

“Obviously, that’s not all you showed him,” snaps the white-haired woman.

Ranae shushes her.

Until now, all the servants have been the picture of politeness, but I’m clearly on the bad side of these two women.

Jasper nods, his eyes half-lidded, like he’s on the verge of falling asleep. “So, my new friend, do you like blackberry mead?”

“Never had it on the farm,” I say.

“Well, we need to get you some.” Jasper snaps his fingers again. “You, there, the blonde. Would you mind draping her in the midnight blue, the lake-mist silk? Shape the dress as we go, yeah? I want you to use the sheerest silk.”

He slides his mead onto the table and rests his elbows on his knees. He steeples his ringed fingers, then presses them against his mouth, staring at me. “I want the plunging neckline. I want her to look like a goddess. I want the silk to skim over her waist. Do you know what? Let’s do an empire waist. And make it backless.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” the white-haired woman says sharply.

Jasper closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. “I don’t give a fuck. Make it happen, Tilly.”

She shoots me a look of death, as though I’m responsible for Jasper being annoying.

His eyes snap open again. “The bra has to go. We’ll do a leg slit, yeah? Show off the strong farmer legs. They’re short but quite shapely. Like I always say, the prince has impeccable taste. Unusual taste. Use the star-woven silks, too, yes?”

“Do you know how much that costs?” seethes Tilly.

Jasper grimaces and inhales. “We don’t worry about cost at Perillos, not for a chief mistress. Not when you see the gift he bought for her.”

Gift?

He slouches back in the chair again and pours himself another glass of mead, chuckling to himself. “A pig farmer. That’s mad, isn't it? He’s always full of surprises.” He waggles his finger at me, grinning. “You just never know with him. That’s what makes him interesting, yeah? You think he’s going to marry Countess Arwenna Blythe. She’s the obvious choice for her beauty and vast fortune, but then boom. He brings home a pig farmer from Lauron who’s never had blackberry mead. Throws the whole marriage process into disarray. Madness, you know what I mean? But that’s Prince Talan, isn’t it? The man’s a genius. An absolute genius. Granted, you’re very pretty. I can see the logic in it. Anyone can find a pretty lady at court. But finding a lady squatting in the dirt of Lauron, pulling carrots with her bare hands? That takes a certain skill. You really never know what he’s up to, do you?”

No, but I intend to find out.

As he’s talking, Tilly is working her magic around me, whispering a spell that makes the dress stitch together on my body. The fabric feels gorgeous against my skin, a whisper of soft silk that falls gracefully over my hips, the sheer blue shimmering in the light. It almost feels like a warm liquid.

Tilly manages to fold the fabric over itself in just the right places so my underwear isn’t showing through the dress and my nipples are covered with layers of silk.

Jasper stares out the window, looking lost in thought. “No one ever knows what he’s going to do, which makes it hard to...” He trails off, but I already know what he was thinking.

It makes it hard to imitate him.

I have a feeling Jasper will be running out to find himself a girlfriend from a farm in Lauron.

As she works, Tilly glares at me like I murdered her firstborn. “He hasn’t just been with farmers. Seamstresses, too.”

I wonder what gifts he gave to Tilly.

“Could you twirl, darling?” Jasper narrows his eyes at me. “Yes. Yes. That’s the one, isn’t it? For the banquet. I tell you what, my farmer girl, all the other women are going to be outrageously jealous of you with this dress on. And we haven’t even got to the real showpiece yet.”

He picks up the black box from the table and opens it.

My jaw drops as I stare at the jewels gleaming before me—a necklace made of dozens of teardrop-shaped diamonds, which hang from delicate chains. The gems have a faint silver-blue sheen to them.

When I turn to see Tilly and Ranae, the vicious expressions on their faces tell me everything I need to know about what this means.

Ranae licks one of her sharp canines. The corrosive envy in the air is palpable, toxic.

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