Page 105 of Cashmere Ruin

I take another look at my sketches. There’s lots of decent ideas there, but “decent” doesn’t win contests. There’s this one mermaid-inspired concept that I really like, but it would also involve hand-gluing about a trillion mother of pearl scales, something I have neither the budget nor the time nor the finger dexterity for.

Time and money. God, why does it all have to boil down to that?

Negative spiral.I shake my head and force myself to snap out of it. Dr. Knox has been very clear with me: when I get trapped in my own thoughts, I need to anchor myself to the present. The here and now, in the world outside my mind.

It doesn’t come easy, but it comes easier than most days today. And honestly? I think I know why.

Because I’mpissed.

Anne stole my work. Nora helped her. They stole my future once, but they couldn’t be happy with that. They had to do it again.

But I’ll be damned if I let them.

I’m not seventeen anymore. I’m not a scared little girl with nowhere to go and no one to help. I’m a grown woman now. I’m amom.

And I have a family.

If there’s a silver lining to this entire situation, it’s how good Matvey’s been to me. He’s been handling it so well. Letting Elias watch our daughter, keeping his cool in front of my wicked stepmother and stepsister, letting me fight my own battles.Listeningto me. Trusting me.

With this Matvey by my side, I feel like I can take on the world.

Speaking of…“Any thoughts from the peanut gallery?” I ask hopefully.

…

…

…

Crickets.

“Come on!” I pout. “We’re brainstorming. There’s no such thing as a bad idea here.”

I can practically feel Matvey’s skepticism fill the air. “You want us to give you advice?”

“Why not? You both dress snazzy.”

Matvey’s eyebrow rises. “‘Snazzy,’” he echoes.

“Yeah. You know, fancy. Sharp.”

I detect a hint of amusement on his lips. “Well, in case it slipped your mind, I’ll remind you I have tailors for that.”

How could I ever forget?I give a discreet cough and quickly change the subject. “Petra, save me. I know you have a fashion sense somewhere.”

“Sure.” She shrugs. “How about steel?”

“See? That’s exactly—sorry, what?”

“I don’t know. It’s durable. Interesting. It’s—What are you laughing at?”

Behind us, Matvey gives an equally discreet cough. “Nothing. Why not chainmail?”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.”

“With a nice helm to match. Thin eye slot so it can prevent arrows and spears from penetrating.”

“Still think there’s no such thing as bad ideas?” Petra deadpans.

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