Page 41 of The Demon of the Wood

“I’ve felt the same way, Melina. Are you happy here?”

She nodded. “Yes. Aife and Jorah are so kind and fuss about me like they’re my parents. Are you happy?”

No.

“Yes,” he said, forcing a smile. For all that mattered was that Melina was happy and safe. Kaemon would move mountains to ensure she was both of those things.

He bid her goodnight, leaving the tavern with a wave to Aife and Jorah, then he walked into the nearly empty streets of the town. The moon rose high over the city, casting silvery blue light over the cobblestones as he navigated the streets. A group of men stood outside a tavern, drinking and smoking as the place closed for the night. Kaemon watched them carefully, only for them to stop their revelries and stare at him, to look at him long and hard, as if they recognized him. He turned and kept walking. This was precisely why Melina didn’t need to be with him.

twenty-two

Melina

Springbeganspreadingacrossthe landscape, bits of flora popping up, green grass bright against piles of snow that refused to melt. Melina rubbed her arms against the persistent chill of the morning, knowing that it would warm soon enough as the sun rose higher and higher in the sky.

Patrons filed into the Tipsy Tavern, but Melina wasn’t working today. Not at the restaurant, at least. She waited on the porch, looking eagerly at each person who came up, the regulars greeting her, the few males who flirted with her stopping to chat. But she kept watch still. She had a new client today, the daughter of an Orc Lord, a little way out of town. She’d received the letter a few days back, requesting an appointment for a ball gown, the proposed price so high Melina thought she’d read it wrong.

“Is that truly what it says?” she had asked Aife, running down the stairs from the loft, waving the letter excitedly.

Aife’s eyes had been as large as the moon and confirmed that yes, she was being offered four hundred units to make a ball gown for the daughter of the Lord. But now she waited for the carriage to come and take her to the manor. She had a sneaking suspicion it had been a lark or meant for someone else.

She took the letter out and read over it again. The first line addressed her and the seal on the envelope convinced her of the sincerity. She folded it back and placed it in the satchel, smoothing her hair. She felt self-conscious about her appearance. She didn’t own anything fit for tea with a lord or lady, but she was not their equal, and surely, they would not send her away on account of her poverty. Not if she could convince them with her skill.

The carriage rolled up. It was a fine thing, and she clasped her hands in front of her to hide how they shook from nervousness. The coachman was a goblin wearing a velvet jacket of purple, with gold swirls stitched on the stiff shoulders. He helped her into the carriage, and she thanked him, settling in for the ride. It took a couple of hours to arrive, and she watched the scenery pass by outside. It was a shock that the roads were good enough to travel on. The carriage plodded along with only the anticipated bumps and rumbles.

The manor stood three stories tall and expanded wide on either side, wings coming off the right and left. A frozen pool rested in the middle of a circular drive and holly bushes lined the walkway. They were greeted by servants who led her into a sitting room.

“Would you like tea? Biscuits, miss?” the servant asked.

“I don’t need either,” she replied, waving her hand anxiously.

The servant smiled. “I will bring you both.”

She was gone before Melina could protest, so instead she sat in the parlor, twiddling her hands in her lap. Light filtered through the lightweight purple curtains, casting hued light about the room. The most elegant furniture she had ever beheld sat arranged in different sitting combinations throughout the large room. She could imagine a large party settling in here, some playing cards at the table in the corner, while other groups formed in the other areas and talked.

The door opened and in walked an orc male and younger female, both so well dressed she was certain they were the ones who had written her. She stood and curtsied, the movements stiff and wobbly, and she cursed her lack of manners.

“You must be Melina,” the female said, coming forward and taking both of Melina’s hands in her own.

“I am, and you must be Lia,” she said.

The female nodded. “Yes, and I am so happy you’re here. A few of my servants bought items you made and sold at the market, and when I saw the fine stitching, I knew you were the one to make my ball gown.”

From the shirts she’d made to sell at the market? Her head swam from the knowledge. That had been enough to impress this female?

“I must confess, Lia, that I have never made a ball gown before. I am confident in my ability to do it, but I should be honest with you.”

Lia took a step back, still holding her hands, bringing them up so she could look at the gown Melina wore. It was her finest one, a new amber colored dress with a cream corset. The sleeves were shaped like a bishop's sleeve, only with more room and a ribbon lacing in eyelets up to the shoulders, where a stiff triangle gave a sturdy shape to the shoulders.

“Did you make this?” Lia asked.

Melina nodded. “Yes, I did.”

Lia grinned. “Then I think you will do just fine. I have heard from several in Orc Haven that you are the finest seamstress on Nemus, and I believe it. Do you realize no one has a dress with this fashion you are wearing? It is so unique and fresh. I believe these sleeves alone will take off like a spark to a forest once the nobility sees it.”

Melina’s cheeks warmed, as did her chest. She hadn’t thought about the fact that no one wore the fashion she wore. She just enjoyed making new and exciting clothes. The females of Orc Haven had been complimenting her, often stopping her in the market and touching the sleeves, asking her how she made them. She always described it in detail, uninterested in keeping any of it a secret. A few other females had been wearing the same style within a month and she’d been so delighted she’d told Aife all about it. She wanted to tell Kaemon, but the brief moments they had when he visited were not enough for everything she wanted to relay to him.

“I would be honored to make your gown,” she said.

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