Page 134 of Across an Endless Sea

Kitarni nods. “Twenty-five years in hiding was enough to give some priests ideas above their station. I’ve dealt with most of them. The few who remain are just grouchy old high fae with elitist ideals. They have no real power.” She sighs. “None of that is your problem. My point is, I made a mistake with Caed. I know exactly how it feels to feel unqualified to speak up, and I will do everything in my power to help you find your voice when you need it.”

The stairs end, and Kitarni strides into my garden.

“Nicnevin, this is Mistress Poesy,” she says, and I wonder who she’s introducing until I look down and spot a familiar grey-furred brownie. “She’s an up-and-coming seamstress from—”

“Iondell,” I grin. “We’ve met, but how did you end up here?”

The seamstress from the small town in the spring court where I spent my first night in Faerie looks up from her bow and grins, displaying a wide mouth full of fangs. Her flat nose and expressive face have changed little since I last saw her, but now she’s wearing a soft, artfully embroidered dress with a pressed black apron over the front.

Brownies are naturally diminutive, but with Kitarni’s tall and willowy form beside her, she looks almost like a child—though she seems far older than both of us.

“Nicnevin, after your blessing, the high priestess sent for me to come to the city,” the brownie continues. “I’ve got a new shop in the inner city, right in the middle of Market Street, and I’ve been taking orders from the nobles while working on your commissions.”

I blink at her. “Commissions?”

“Jaromir told me you liked her work, so I extended an invitation,” Kitarni grins. “You’ll need an experienced seamstress to curate a proper wardrobe for your pilgrimage, anyway, and Mistress Poesy has just finished creating a gown for your coronation and several more for your travels through the courts.”

Poesy came from the far reaches of the Spring Court just to make me clothes? I smile, then grimace as I remember I can’t thank her. At least I’m in a position to help her back now.

“Have you got everything you need?” I ask. “A new shop must have been a lot of work…”

“I’m well looked after,” the brownie reassures me, dashing my plans. “I’ve had enough business to hire on apprentices. The city has so much more opportunity. My whole family is so grateful.”

I blush as she bows again, but Kitarni interrupts before I can quiz Poesy and find a way to repay her.

“Have you brought the coronation gown?” she asks, peeking past Poesy into the open room where my bed is.

“Of course,” Poesy replies, stepping back with a grin and ushering us both past. “It’s my best work. I used selkie silk and pearls from the Riverlands. The thread is…”

I’ve stopped listening, but that’s mostly because I’m struck dumb by the dress on the mannequin.

Layers of frothy silk form a skirt that falls to the ground in a dark violet train dotted with the glimmer of pearls and golden stitches. The bodice is embroidered with tiny roses and delicate skulls and will leave everything north of my cleavage bare save for the delicate off-the-shoulder sleeves made of wispy lace. I dismiss the scandalised mortal screaming about propriety to the back of my mind with a smile.

It’s like the night sky has been distilled into a dress, and I’m not going to waste the opportunity to wear it by worrying about prudish mortal ideals. Everything important is covered, after all.

“Nowthat,” Titania breathes, appearing out of thin air and brushing past me with a huge smile. “Is a dress worthy of a Nicnevin.”

“Pretty,” Maeve admits, circling the mannequin. “Completely impractical, of course, but—”

Titania taps her upside the head. “Nope. You’re not spoiling this.”

Maeve rubs her skull, smirking. “I was going to say it would suit Rose,” she protests.

“Where’s Mab?” I ask, grinning.

“Here,” she answers. “But I never had a coronation, so I have no idea if the dress is any good.”

I cock my head and turn back to Kitarni. “Mab never had a coronation?”

“Nicnevin Mab was formed at the creation of Faerie,” Kitarni replies. “There were no temples, no shrines.”

“And a whole lot of chaos,” Mab groans. “Thank the Goddess that Danu was more active in those early days.”

Poesy is watching me with a kind of wide-eyed fascination, and yet when the high priestess turns back to her, she dips her head.

“I made my vow of silence,” she promises. “None of the Nicnevin’s business will ever leave my lips.”

I bite my lip, wondering how many people in the palace have taken that vow.

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