Page 183 of Disillusioned
“It’s her husband.” A boy wearing a mischievous grin emerged from the carriage and jogged up the shallow steps. He was a child, probably no older than fourteen. Curls of strawberry blond hair fell into his round face, which he dusted out of his fawn brown eyes as he stopped beside Herlinde. “Already done, Madame Herlinde? That was quick.”
“Not yet. Friedrich has misplaced our parcel.”
“I have not!”
Herlinde ignored her trunk’s adamant reply. “Your Majesty, this is one of my assistants, Ozzie. His brother is at home recovering from a violent illness he had the other night.”
Lilac held up a hand, pressing the other to her temple. “I’m sorry. I’m—wait. That trunk is yourhusband?”
Herlinde scoffed. “Myex-husband.”
“We are still married,” Friedrich spat.
“We haven’t gotten around to annulling it yet, but I for one was never eager to bring him king’s bench. I call him my ex-husband because he’s no longer a person.”
Lilac looked upon Friedrich in horror, somehow deeply bothered that something with such a disproportionately large mouth and tiny feet lacked eyes. She remembered Garin’s story at his feast. “You turned him into a chest?”
“No, he did it to himself in an unfortunate accident. I was forced to bring him along when we fled our homeland.”
“They do work well together, at least,” offered Ozzie.
“He helps me with my dress craft, I dust cobwebs off of him every few weeks. It is a fine business exchange.”
There was a choking sound then. Friedrich was coughing. He shuddered, his lid shutting then bouncing half open. He shut again—and whenhe opened a second time, the lid flung all the way back. Out flew a large bundle wrapped in cloth, secured with a thick white ribbon.
It landed right in Herlinde’s arms. “There we are!”
“Swell!” Ozzie grinned. “Is that Her Majesty’s wedding gown?”
“It is. A pair of lace gloves and a veil to match.” Herlinde handed the bundle to her eager assistant. “No one unfolds it or takes it out of its package until your wedding day. Understand?”
Lilac’s throat was dry, a surge of nerves and mixed feelings leaving a too-bitter taste in her mouth. “Herlinde, how were you able to craft this in time?”
“I’ve been doing this for many years. I come from a long line of haberdashers and dressmakers alike, gifted in Alteration and other minor branches of magic. We’ve helped everyone from royalty to neighboring townsfolk, and specialize in making others feel their very best on any occasion. Plus, a little magic doesn’t hurt.”
Lilac watched in awe as Herlinde rummaged again in the now-silent Friedrich. “I don’t know what to say. How much do I owe you?” John was nowhere to be seen outside. “I’ll have my treasurer contact you.”
“Nonsense.” Herlinde yanked out another bundle of material and unfolded it. “A dear friend of mine told me this belongs to you.”
Lilac made to object but trailed off. It was a wrinkled blue kirtle, the one she’d left in her cell in Garin’s bedchamber at the Sanguine Mine.
“Now that I’ve got your measurements jotted down at the shop, I can craft any fineries or armor you might need. Any at all, once we return from our coastal excursion out west, that is.” She winked at Lilac and laid the kirtle atop the bundle in Ozzie’s arms.
Out west.
Her kingdom’s most frequented ports were out of the northern towns. She supposed popular trading routes shifted every year; nothing about that was out of the ordinary. There could be some out west with the changing seasons, perhaps out of Brest or one of the bays. But warmer weather afforded a diversity of trade routes north this particular time of year, didn’t it? The reduced risk of sea ice at the docks made for optimal conditions.
And really, none of that mattered for someone ordering a wardrobe overhaul of enchanted garments from the Hemlock Haberdashery. The order must’ve been extensive if Herlinde was willing to hand all herpremade pieces to her friends and Marguerite, and accept nothing in exchange for a custom made wedding gown. Likely, they were aprivateclient hiring a contracted maritime merchant.
And what other naval trader not sanctioned by her or her father would boast various kinds of tender? Paper money was rare, a foreign commodity of distant kingdoms.
Lilac stared at Herlinde, then her trunk of a husband, several things clicking into place at once.
“Very well. No time shall be wasted.” Herlinde returned Lilac’s look with a friendly smile and craned her head. “Do you have anyone who could take these up for you?”
“We will.” They turned to see Yanna and Isabel emerging from the western corridor. Their hair escaped their buns in frazzled tendrils, their faces bright pink from the sun. “Her Grace sent us in to see if you needed help.”
“We have heard so much about you,” added Isabel before Yanna elbowed her.
