2. TWO #3
Sneaking in certainly isn’t an option, nor can I waltz up and demand an audience in my current attire. Even if I reveal my identity, I can’t risk the guards turning me away, not with Zala’s shadows around. His network extends to every major town, and they could be anywhere or anyone.
I retreat into the thicket of shoppers, trying to figure out the next best place to gather information. Maybe I can find out which tavern the guards frequent and see how loose their tongues are.
A group of women rush past me, shoving me into a storefront selling inks. I steady the wobbling bottles. “My apologies,” I offer the seller.
I spin on my heels, assessing the chaotic street. Every dress shop has a long queue of women now. I join the nearest line, curious about the commotion.
A pair of sisters with matching golden locks stand in front of me. They chat about commissioning a new dress, arguing over who will utilize which hue.
My heart squeezes, tears stinging my eyes. My sisters and I had the same conversation leading up to the coronation, braiding each other’s hair as we argued over the latest designs.
Astrella always managed to find a tangent about the history of how a fabric was made or dyed or something equally boring.
I used to tease her for the amount of random information in her head, but now I long to hear her ramble on.
I would happily listen to her for hours if it gave me a chance to spend even one more moment together.
I wipe at a tear that escapes and tuck those emotions away, burying them safely in my fractured heart. I can’t afford to break down in the middle of the road and draw attention to myself. I recite their names again and let my oath of vengeance drown out my sorrow.
A younger girl cuts in front of me. She tugs on one of the blond’s sleeves, whining about why she can’t go to the ball. Is that why all these women are rushing to the dressmakers?
The sisters ignore her plea, scolding her to remain quiet and behave or they will send her home. She glares at their backs with impressive focus.
“Why aren’t you allowed at the ball?” I ask quietly.
She blinks up at me with furrowed brows, so I repeat my question. She glances at her sisters, but they are too engrossed in their design fantasies to notice. “I’m not old enough. Father said only adults are allowed at the ball, and I don’t turn eighteen for another three years.”
“That doesn’t seem fair. What kind of celebration doesn’t allow children?” She bristles at the word children. “I mean young women.”
“The ball is to celebrate the end of the war.” Leaning closer, her voice drops to a whisper. “But Father said it’s a ruse. That the ball is really a chance for the emperor to find a potential bride. That’s why even the lowborn are allowed.”
My laugh slips out before I can stop it. “You want to marry the emperor?”
Red blossoms on her fair cheeks. “Of course not! I just want to see what he looks like. And who knows when another ball like this will happen. I don’t want to miss out.”
“Gilly!” one of the sisters snaps.
Gilly turns, rushing forward to fill the gap that formed during our chat. Her sister casts a glance at my pants with wide eyes and whispers in her ear. Gilly doesn’t turn around again, but I got all the information I need.
I head toward the small fabric shop I passed on a side street, whose line is by some miracle nonexistent.
Their window displays silks and chiffons, luxurious fabrics that are delicate yet strong.
They take a master to embroider back home.
The amethysts on my coronation dress took the better part of a month to craft at least.
The lightness of my coin purse worries me until I walk through the front door and am greeted by rows of drapes. A chipper worker welcomes me, but I’m too stunned to respond.
The most expensive fabrics in Kalisham reduced to decor.
I select a bolt of green silk that matches my eyes. The price is comically less than a commissioned dress; I almost feel like a swindler. Between the fabric, supplies, and a new comb, I have enough coin left to cover one more night at the inn. Maybe two if I stretch my meals.
Thankfully, the ball is in three nights, and I will be long gone before the old woman comes asking for her money for the last day. After that, my future and finances will be up to the emperor—or what I can steal.
I settle on the small bed in my room and line my purchases up in front of me. I have one shot to make the emperor notice me among a sea of other women. After staring at the fabric for nearly an hour, I decide to stick with a simple wrap dress.
My skills with a needle aren’t strong enough to recreate a Velorian-style monstrosity anyway. I need to keep the sewing to a minimum; cutting the patterns and lightly burning their edges to a smooth finish are doable. Hopefully, my vision will come to life without too many setbacks.
The dress will make me stand out, but at that point, I need people to notice me, especially the emperor. In three days, Princess Mina Ardeshir will be in hiding no more.