4. Lissy #2
Luckily, I've worked on a few wedding dresses for minotaurs in my time. They're less rare to see in Starling Vale than orcs, and I know that they want soft and gentle as part of their traditions. That will work well as a contrast to the sturdy leather of the bodice that Ysolde is talking about.
"I think that would be beautiful," I say honestly.
Ysolde beams down at me.
"See?" Brynna says proudly. "I told you this was the place to go."
The door opens, and Torgan — because I know his name now as Torgan — comes in, huffing, carrying a little parcel for me. Like he ran the entire way between here and the spell shop.
Noemi came through for me, and I let out a sigh of relief.
"Took you long enough," Brynna mutters, even though I know that Torgan made near-record time getting there and back. I wonder if she overcharged him again, or if he told her the medicine is for me and she gave it to him for free, like she does for me.
"Starling Vale is… full of people," he says simply. He holds out the parcel to me, and I reach for it, but Brynna takes it in a huff before I can.
"Really, Torgan? Making the poor woman get up out of her chair to get her pain medicine?" She tsks and sits down next to me. "May I?" She indicates the teacup that sits on my desk.
"Sure," I croak, and I hate that I sound so out of it.
Brynna opens the parcel and taps some of the powdered pain medicine into it. "That should do it." She stirs it briefly, then picks up the teacup and hands it to me. "Try that."
I sip and immediately feel the relief from the potion. Nightshade? Some form of it? I can't remember at the moment, except that it's some sort of plant that, under unskilled hands, could kill me several times over. Not Noemi's work.
I already feel a hundred times better, and that's just with the first sip. I could kiss her for the relief. I should have thought of this instead of leather hangover curtains. What a silly idea.
"Did you get lost out there?" Ysolde teases, and I realize that both she and Brynna have been teasing Torgan this entire time while I've been savoring my tea.
"No, of course not," Torgan answers, sounding like a scolded child.
Brynna crosses her arms. "So you're just slow?"
"No."
I hide my smile in my teacup. Mmm, Noemi outdid herself with this. And now I can enjoy the banter between the siblings, something I'll have to get used to, especially as it seems like Ysolde is going to become a client.
"Can I get you all something to drink?" I ask.
"Oh, you shouldn’t,” Ysolde says, but I also see the disapproval in Brynna's eyes as she shakes her head.
"I'm all right now," I say, and it's true. I pull myself out of the chair, my headache now forgotten. I stand on steady feet. So far, so good. The contrast feels so good, I give myself a small chuckle.
"Now," I say, turning to Ysolde, "it's my turn to treat you like the bride you're meant to be."
The rest of my consultation with Ysolde goes the way it should — and I thankfully don't crash my head into the cabinet again.
I work through the specifics of Ysolde's wishes for her dress, with Brynna bringing in her input every so often, reminding Ysolde of the things she has wanted ever since they were little orcs.
Torgan, for his part, is silent the entire time, sitting in a chair by the window while he watches us.
I can feel his eyes on me the whole time I'm sketching out the dress, taking Ysolde's measurements, and going over fabric swatches with her.
He doesn't speak, unless Brynna says something to try to rile him up, which works a little more often than I would have thought.
But I can feel his gaze on me like it's a living thing, and I can't tell if it makes me feel uncomfortable. Exposed, maybe?
Or wanted.
Which is silly, because there's no way this orc lord would ever notice me — a human with a dress shop that's barely scraping by and no prospects to speak of.
And, most important of all, and something I need to remind myself: he looked at me like I was something stuck to the bottom of his shoe the first time we met at Noemi's.
I wonder which of these sisters he bought the anti-love potion for. Or if it's someone else entirely. They certainly don't seem to be under any spell, so maybe he had the sense not to give it to them.
An expensive purchase, but I'm glad he didn't make a bigger mistake.
After two hours of consultation and plenty of drawings and mess, mostly mine because my mind demands perfection from the dress, we land on a design that even I would admit is stunning and one-of-a-kind. And I am my harshest critic.
I hope I can bring it to life the way I want. The way Ysolde deserves.
"That should be it," I say, putting down my pencil and holding out my sketch for the sisters to see.
My sketch shows off a woman with Ysolde's long, willowy proportions, colored with her moss-green skin to show the contrast between her and the eggshell-white dress that's tight at the bodice and flowing around the shoulders and skirt.
The leather and the silks we've chosen are marked, with the combination of textures making as much of a statement about the union between an orc and a minotaur as any vows.
I've outdone myself, and I know it.
"I love it," Ysolde says proudly. "Torgan, come look at this!"
"I'm fine," he grumbles, and Ysolde frowns, a line creasing between her dark eyebrows. I can see that Brynna is about to burst into a string of retorts, and I decide to intervene.
If only to keep them from bickering again. Even if I did kind of like it.
You're welcome, Lord Oakenshade, I think darkly.
"Probably a good thing that he doesn't see it," I tease with a shrug, giving the sisters a wicked smile. "Who knows, he might spill the beans to your fiancé about it, and we can't have that."
"Torgan never could keep his big mouth shut," Brynna growls, to which I laugh.
"That is the problem with brothers, so I hear."
"Oh, no brothers?" Ysolde asks. "Sisters?"
I shake my head, feeling my cheeks warm. "Just me." Please don't make me go into the full story.
"Sometimes, being an only child sounds divine," Brynna says wistfully. "There are four of us girls, plus Torgan, so the poor guy never had a chance."
"A chance at what?" Torgan shoots back, and both sisters just roll their eyes. I can't help my smile.
"Sounds like family gatherings were eventful, at least."
"You have no idea," Brynna says. "But that's orc life for you."
"Well, this event promises to have a beautiful bride," I say, and Ysolde beams proudly.
This is one of my favorite things about my job — making the brides feel special.
"I'll have this ready next week." I tap the sketch.
"Can you come in next week at the same time for a fitting?
It will take a couple of fittings to get it just right, but I think the end result will be stunning. "
"As many as you need," Ysolde says, as we all get to our feet. "The wedding will be on the summer solstice, so as long as it's ready then."
I nod. "It will be."
"And I should bring Saskia here for her wedding dress," Brynna says. "She'd love it."
"Another in the family getting married?" I ask, surprised.
Ysolde indicates herself and Brynna. "Actually, three of us are." My throat tightens for a panicked moment before she nods to Brynna. "She's getting married as well."
So not Torgan. Why am I relieved? You idiot, Lissy.
"I'll come here next for my wedding. Hopefully without this brute." Brynna jabs her thumb behind her to indicate Torgan. "He's a mood killer."
"Only because your moods create trouble," Torgan says sulkily, and while the sisters laugh, I can tell that he's correct, at least some of the time. "What?"
"Nothing." Ysolde slides her arm into his. "Thank you for chaperoning us to Starling Vale, big brother. Hopefully, Ma can do it next time so you can go back to skinning a deer or whatever it is you savages do."
"I'm only savage when the occasion calls for it," Torgan says smoothly, his eyes meeting mine for a brief moment, and it feels like he's trying to explain himself to me in that moment.
Why, I don't know, and I don't want to look too much into it.
"All right." Brynna links up with Torgan's other arm. "Come. Let's go before Pa starts to worry too much about his line of credit in the human realm."
The orcs depart, heading out into the afternoon sun with the chaos of Main Street beyond them.
Starling Vale, for all its variety of inhabitants, seems to showcase the orc family as they stand head and shoulders above many of the villagers.
stand in the doorway and watch them disappear into the crowd.
When I go back inside, the shop feels too quiet, so I start cleaning.
It's nighttime before there's another knock on the door, just before I close up my shop.
I'm almost done cleaning and arranging, and I've just started preparing my workspace to begin Ysolde's dress from scratch in the morning.
I've been so alone up to this point, I could almost convince myself that the orcs were a dream, if not for the sketch on my worktable and the deposit of two gold pieces for the dress.
I open the door, and a human male stands there, giving me a wide grin.
It immediately feels wrong, like it's an imitation of how people genuinely smile.
His dark hair is slicked back, and while he would be considered good-looking by any standard, I'm so tired, and my pain medicine from earlier is starting to wear off.
So charm is certainly the last thing affecting me right now. Especially fake charm.
"Can I help you?"
"Are you Lisette Sunfell?" the man asks, his voice warm and chocolatey. Like he's practiced being this charming.
"I am." There is no way in hell I'm giving him my preferred name. "How can I help you?"
"This is a lovely shop you have here, Lisette." The man steps back and regards the storefront, completely ignoring my question.
"Thank you," I say slowly. "And it's Ms. Sunfell." That distance feels like something I need to establish and remind him of.