Page 61 of The Curse of a Kingdom
“I did.” His eyes softened on her, and that alone killed some of her self-doubt, her anger toward Devon appeasing. “We can talk about it later, alone.”
“Next!” A shrill voice came from inside the shop, startling her out of her stupor.
“Nava.” Arkimedes bowed, his eyes never leaving hers, before he too strode off from the entrance of the seamstress shop. “Fael, Leela.”
“Your Highness,” both of them said in unison, bowing, and Nava realized that once again, she had not adhered to the formality surrounding them.
Arkimedes walked past the carriage and toward the shops where Devon awaited him, and she trailed their retreating shapes that disappeared in the streets of town.
“Oh, you are here.” A woman’s voice flowed to her as Nava came into the shop, the scents here much stronger. A tall, slim brunette walked to her with light feet and a raised chin. She wore a wine-colored gown that fell like a cascade of gems and shiny threads toward the soft ground. Her scowl was so deep it could give Violet a run for her money.
“Good afternoon,” Nava said, waving a hand.
The shop wasn’t large, the ceilings not as tall as she had expected, but the windows were open, letting in the warm breeze of the morning. Rolls of fabric of all the colors of the rainbow lined the walls. Golden gowns lined the display in front of the store. Draped over mannequins were all kinds of different outfits Nava had never seen before. Wide skirts and narrow bodices.
Gorgeous dresses, dyed with rich pigments. Patterns, textures—this time her heart was racing, not due to forgotten memories, but because she was excited to be here.
Never had Nava stepped inside such a fancy seamstress shop before. The one in Willowbrook made and mended clothes that were simple and utilitarian for the most part. She couldn’t have afforded to be in a place like this, even in passing.
Well-preserved rugs covered the floors, and in the center of the room, there was a fitting stand and a wooden mirror next to it.
The woman’s umber eyes scoured down Nava’s body, making her squirm. “It will be hard work to get a gown made in such a rush.”
“I’m sorry, I just arrived in town not that long ago.”
The woman glowered and headed to the center of the room, waving her hand toward the stand. “Come this way now, human.”
She followed Marni with long strides while her blood heated inside her veins. “My name is Nava, not ‘human.’”
Marni scoffed, dismissing Nava’s words. “It doesn’t matter. I will never remember.”
It was her turn to frown. If the woman wanted to upset her with her words, she had another thing coming since Nava had had an internship of hostility with Violet last year.
She shrugged. “Suit yourself.” And she stood on the pedestal as the seamstress looked her over.
“Your kind is always one to have such wide hips, not the most appealing.”
Nava cleared her throat, swallowing her spike in annoyance. “Good news, it seems you make your gowns to overcompensate for the lack of curves. Maybe mine doesn’t need as much padding.”
Why had she decided to say it out loudbeforethe fae made her gown? Marni’s glare told her she would be paying for it later.
The fae walked off to the wall that held mounted rolls of fabric, coming back with a roll of the most garish canary-yellow fabric Nava had seen. It shimmered under the light, iridescent colors as she unrolled it unceremoniously over the ground.
“Isn’t that a bit loud?” Nava asked, and the brown eyes of the seamstress met hers with a wicked light behind her pupils.
“I’m afraid I ran out of all the other yellow or gold fabric. It is pretty late to get anything brought in since the ball is tomorrow.” She smiled.
Nava studied the wall with the rolls of fabric, where at least a dozen of other yellow and gold rolls leaned against the wall. “There are a few more over there.” She pointed in the direction.
The fae didn’t even move a muscle to turn around. “Those are for . . . higher-class individuals, dear, not for you.” So much for this woman following Arkimedes’s command of taking care of her.
Nava frowned but pressed her lips together, unwilling to let Marni enjoy getting a rise out of her. She needed the dress; the king had demanded that she get it from this cruel woman.
She pictured her mother’s image in her mind and closed her eyes, calling for her strength.
“Do not let them see you affected by their words. Ignoring them is the best kind of retaliation,” her mother had once told her, though right now it didn’t feel that way.
“Ow.” She jumped when the prick of a pin dug into her skin.
