Chapter 16
After having her measurements taken, Ximena left. The moment she was gone, Azam’s excitement seemed to give way to dread as he realized the huge task that lay ahead of him. A week was a tight deadline even for an ordinary dress, but a wedding dress?
‘You can do it,’ she told him, squeezing his arm. ‘I know you can.’
He spent the next two days finishing up all his other orders, and paused all new orders until after the twenty-fourth. He needed to focus fully.
He was in the shop now, sitting at his desk, where he’d been glued for the past six hours. When Sonya had woken up that morning and come down for breakfast, there had already been a plate in the sink.
After she had breakfasted with Kiri and Dania, Sonya had popped into the shop. Azam had been deep in his work, two empty teacups beside him.
Now there were about three more empty cups of tea, provided by Sonya, who didn’t know how else she could help. The door dinged, and Sonya answered it, intercepting a customer at the door.
‘I’m so sorry, but Azam isn’t taking any new orders for a few days,’ she said, voice hushed. ‘Can you please return after the twenty-fourth?’
She felt awful turning customers away but, thankfully, they were all understanding. Azam only had five days before the trial.
He hadn’t bought the fabric yet—he was still piecing through the designs, and she could see that he was overwhelmed and on edge. There were dark rings under his eyes, and his appearance was slovenly, his hair a mess.
He groaned with frustration just as Sonya closed the door behind the retreating customer, and she turned to watch him rip a piece of paper out of his sketchbook, crumpling it up and throwing it across the room. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.
‘It’s useless,’ he lamented, dropping his face onto the table. ‘I can’t do it.’
The sewing machine started running, even though he wasn’t touching it, and spools of ribbons unraveled on his desk. Snatches of lace flitted in the air. His magic seemed to be malfunctioning, reaching for things he couldn’t quite control.
‘Oh dear,’ she said, going to his side. She touched his shoulder, but he made no sound, so she moved her hand to his face, turning his head so she could look at him properly. His expression was miserable.
‘Azam,’ she said gently. She cupped his cheek, and the sewing machine stopped. The ribbons fell to the floor, along with the lace. ‘I’m sure we’ll find something useful.’
‘Go ahead and look,’ he despaired.
She took his sketchbook, paging through it and the pieces spread across his desk. She folded the corner of some designs that had good elements, pointing them out to him. ‘The hem on this is nice,’ she said. ‘And I like the sleeves of this one!’
He sighed. ‘It can’t just be nice. It needs to be perfect.’
She thought back to what Ximena had said: she was taking a risk with Azam. She needed something groundbreaking.
Sonya looked through the sketchbook with that in mind, until she stumbled on a page that didn’t have a dress at all. She sucked in a breath, holding the sketchbook with one hand and touching the page with the other.
It was a sketch of her.
It looked to be from a few days before the opening. In it, she was sitting on the grass, hair a little windswept, reading. Her eyes were lidded, a small smile on her face. She looked so happy and at peace.
It was unlike any portrait she’d ever had made of her.
There was such care and attention and … something else.
It was like he really saw her, her spirit.
Royal portraits were meant to make them look regal and ethereal and grand, but in this, she didn’t look like a princess; she just looked like a girl. Like herself.
Azam saw what she was looking at and groaned, covering his face with his hands. ‘As if things couldn’t get worse,’ he muttered, embarrassed.
‘I love it!’ she said.
He removed his hands from his face, looking at her hesitantly. ‘Do you?’
‘Yes! I—’ She stopped when her gaze fell to the scar he had sketched beneath her jaw. Inadvertently, she frowned.
‘You hate it,’ he said, face downturned. ‘I’m sorry.’
He reached for the sketchbook, but she held on. ‘No!’ she said. ‘It’s just … it’s the scar. You noticed it.’ She pointed at the little indent under her jaw.
‘Sonya, I notice everything about you,’ he said. She grew quiet, and his gaze intensified, setting her skin ablaze. He cleared his throat. ‘What is it from?’
‘It looks so much worse than it was,’ she said, turning her neck to show him. ‘I got bitten by a bug and it got infected. I got sick very easily as a child.’ She touched the bump of the scar, exasperated.
Azam reached a hand out, index finger touching the raised skin. His other fingers grazed her throat, and she shivered.
‘I wish the scar had a better story—that it was from something more interesting,’ she said. The heroes in all her favorite novels had scars with interesting stories behind them.
‘Why?’ he asked. ‘You’re interesting enough.’
He seemed to relax, talking with her, and she knew what he needed. ‘Come on, up,’ she said. ‘You need a break. You’ve been at it since yesterday.’
‘No, I can’t,’ he said. ‘There isn’t enough time!’
‘You need to clear your mind! Let’s go down to the lake for a swim.’
He seemed tempted but then glanced back at his desk, the half-finished sketches and the many more crumpled pieces of paper.
‘Come on!’ she said. ‘Maybe you’ll be inspired, and you promised to teach me how to swim, remember?’
He released a long breath. ‘Alright.’
Azam led the way but he was very quiet, a stark difference to the last time they had gone to the lake. He was clearly agitated and tense—not his usual self—and she frowned.
‘What flower is that?’ she asked, pointing out a row of tall pink and orange flowers.
Azam looked. ‘Snapdragons,’ he replied.
‘Such a peculiar name,’ she said.
‘It’s because the flowers resemble the face of a dragon,’ Azam explained, picking one for her. He squeezed the flower laterally, then released, and it did rather look like a dragon opening and closing its mouth.
They continued on, and she pointed out a spotted toad, staring at them with big black eyes as they walked past.
‘Mr. Toad,’ Azam said, tipping an imaginary hat. Sonya laughed. She continued to point out different things as they walked, trying to get him to lighten up: flowers and mushrooms; and all the leaves that had returned to the trees; the flowers in bloom; the birds chirping.
Slowly, he relaxed, answering her questions, responding to her commentary, smiling knowingly as if he realized exactly what she was doing.
They made it to the lake, and the day was much warmer than it had been the last time. Sunshine glittered across the waves, and the waterfall was in full force, rather than a trickle.
‘You were right,’ she said, eyes wide with awe. ‘The waterfall is beautiful.’ The waters were smooth as they flowed down the rocks, not rushing forward, but serene and beautiful.
He smiled. ‘All that rain has paid off.’
He turned around and she did too as they took off their clothes. She had grown entirely comfortable around him, and she was surprised to find not even a drop of shyness remained. In contrast, she had the strange desire to let him see her, which was a new feeling.
Azam finished undressing first, and she heard the sound of him entering the water. She turned to glance at him, but he wasn’t looking in her direction, though she did see his ears were tinged pink.
Sonya waded into the water, and he finally turned to her. Droplets of water dripped from his eyelashes, rolling down his cheeks to his mouth. She wanted to follow their path with her finger.
‘Do you remember how to tread water?’ he asked.
Sonya blinked, clearing her salacious thoughts. ‘Um,’ she replied. ‘Maybe? But help me anyway.’
He approached and took her hands, slowly bringing her out until her feet were off the ground. She kicked them like he had taught her, managing well enough, but when he let go of her hands, she lost her balance. Her face slipped under, and she sputtered. ‘Azam!’
‘Hey, you’ve got this,’ he said, taking her hands again. ‘Just relax. You’ll bob down a little but then bounce back up, don’t worry.’
Taking a deep breath, she began treading the water again. He let go of one hand, and he was right; she did bob back up. Then he let go of her other hand, and it was scary, but he was there. She knew he would catch her if she went under, and she had to be brave.
And then she was doing it on her own!
‘I want to go to the waterfall,’ she said.
Azam laughed. ‘Don’t get ahead of yourself, it’s deeper out there,’ he said. ‘Let’s practice your backstroke first. It’s the easiest way and means you can keep breathing.’
He had taught her a bit of the technique last time, but now he taught her the motions again.
After some practice, she had it nailed down, and they swam over together.
He swam facing forward, not on his back, and stopped her when they were nearly there, since she couldn’t see with her face up to the sky.
The waterfall was even prettier up close. She gasped, delighted. The water was so smooth, like glass, making a soft trickling sound as it hit the lake. She touched her hand to the fall, running her fingers through the water. She looked at him with wonder.
‘It’s so beautiful,’ she said.
‘It is,’ he replied, but he was looking at her.
Sonya swam closer to the waterfall, tilting her face under. It felt like being caressed, the water soft against her cheeks, almost tickling her. Azam did the same beside her, until they both made it to the other side of the waterfall.
There was a small space in front of the rocks, dark and hushed.
She felt like she was encased in a safe little bubble.
The space was tight and their bodies were pressed close together.
Her heartbeat quickened, blood roaring in her ears.
Azam’s eyes darkened as he drew even closer to her, and she felt herself drawn to him, like a moth to a flame.
The water was cold but she felt heated through. His gaze moved down to her lips, his eyes hooded. She watched his throat move as he swallowed.
His lips parted, and she felt a wave of desire simmering through her. She had never been kissed before, but she wanted badly to feel his lips against hers, their bodies together.
His mouth hovered dangerously close to hers, close enough to taste. It was overwhelming, her body firing off different sensations, half of them exciting, half of them frightening.
‘I don’t—’
She didn’t know what to do, nor did she know how to articulate this. She felt embarrassed.
Azam made a strangled sound, then pulled away. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, dragging his gaze back to hers with some difficulty. Then he looked away.
She didn’t know what he was apologizing for. Disappointment ran through her, her body aching. Did he think she meant to say that she didn’t want to?
But she did want to! She desperately wanted to.
But Azam was no longer looking at her, and the moment had passed. Perhaps it was for the best. He was already so stressed with Ximena’s dress, and she didn’t want to complicate things further.
They swam back and sat on the shore, just watching the waves, the sun warm on their skin. It was peaceful, serene.
‘This has always been one of my favorite spots, but now especially so,’ he said, looking out at the glittering waters of the lake, the flowing waterfall.
Then, with a gasp, he sat up. His face was alight, his brown eyes wide. ‘I’ve got it!’