Chapter 10
Carys
“Are Grounders really being apprehended for petty theft?” I ask as I barge into Iywan’s study. He jumps so hard that he knocks over his inkwell. He yanks the parchment he was writing on away from the traveling ink and sets the jar upright again. I grimace—that was unfortunate.
“I’m not sure what you’re referring to, Princess,” he says as he takes a handkerchief from his robes to mop up the ink spillage.
I hold up the dress I’ve toted to his study. “A guard informed me that they took this dress from Cluain Baile and apprehended its maker. This isn’t treason, so there shouldn’t have been any grounds for an arrest.”
Iywan appears genuinely befuddled. “I was not aware.” He stands and walks over to a basin of water to wash the ink off his hand.
“Do you have the newest arrest and conscription records?”
“Yes.” He wipes his long fingers dry before consulting a hefty pile of documents on his massive desk. In silence, he thumbs through the pages. “May I ask why you’re interested in this particular case?” He doesn’t turn away from the paperwork.
“If she, indeed, made this dress, I’d like her in my service.”
Iywan pauses for half a heartbeat. “Wouldn’t you prefer a seasoned dressmaker from Barr na Cahar?”
“No. I’m tired of the shi—rubbish dresses from those dressmakers.”
He pulls out a sheet of paper and his eyes dart across the lines of text. “Her name is Durvla Garrick. A botanist from Cluain Baile. Her sentence is currently under review.”
My eyes widen, and Iywan sets the page down slowly.
“What is there to review? This dress could not have come from Barr na Cahar. Stylistically, it doesn’t fit the standards of recent fashion trends.
Therefore, if this botanist girl stole it, it had to be from her own people.
That is within their jurisdiction, not Mainland’s. ”
“The Grounders are incapable of executing justice—therefore crimes committed by a Grounder fall within the jurisdiction of Mainland if deemed punishable by the Forayers.”
He sounds like he’s just quoted that from a law book, and it’s utter shit.
“So now we’re giving glorified mercenaries permission to act as judges?
That’s madness. The raids are supposed to be for the purpose of keeping Erleya safe from the threat of Otherworldly activity.
As if there has been any proof of such a thing in centuries.
If there’s something in need of a review, it’s these archaic laws. ”
Iywan’s eyes close for a moment, his narrow chest expanding with a deep breath.
“Duly noted, Princess. However, the Forayers are not acting as judges. They’re arresting individuals based on a crime and bringing the prisoners to Paramount to receive their sentence.
It is likely that Durvla Garrick’s sentence will be a lifelong service to the Veilguards rather than a death sentence. ”
I gesture to the heavy knitted dress in my arms. “The Veilguards? For allegedly stealing a dress?” My voice echoes in the chamber.
I can almost hear Alys in my head, telling me not to fight fire with fire.
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. “Lord Iywan, I’d like you to look at this dress.
” I hold it up. “There are knitting needles still in it. Even if this woman stole it, what could she do with it? Stare at it?”
Iywan’s eyes move from the dress to my face.
He’s unimpressed, making me glance at the garment in my hand.
Just a moment ago, it appeared to be the greatest dress I’d ever seen.
Now it’s obvious that it is flawed, the material isn’t the highest quality—the wool is scratchy—the embroidery is nonuniform …
but what more can be expected from something created in the Grounds?
It’s not just beautiful and unique despite the flaws.
It’s beautiful and unique because it’s flawed.
It’s more interesting than the hundreds of dresses I’ve had made by renowned dressmakers.
If the creator behind this dress gets her hands on quality material, the result would be stunning. I just know it!
“What if we let her prove that it isn’t stolen?” I ask Iywan.
“This is not your responsibility, Princess.”
“For Rhianu’s sake,” I mumble, scrubbing my forehead with the heel of my hand. I huff out a breath and wrangle my temper. “I act on behalf of the reigning queen while she’s incapacitated, with your counsel, of course. Everything is my responsibility.”
Iywan falls silent under the weight of my words, his lips a thin line.
“Let me vouch for … this woman.” I can’t even remember her name and I’m willing to vouch for her.
My gut tells me it’s a good idea. “Let her prove it’s not theft.
Give her a pair of knitting needles and wool.
It’s that simple. I even have some in my bedchamber.
And if the bloody laws say she needs a sentence, then sentence her to royal servitude.
It wouldn’t be the first time that’s been done. ”
Iywan exhales heavily and runs his fingers over his neatly braided grey hair.
His reluctance is almost palpable as he lowers himself into the seat and takes a fresh sheet of paper.
“I will write up an order.” He dips his quill into the inkwell and begins rapidly writing.
“If she can prove that the dress is indeed her work, you may have her in your service.”
“Alright.” I try to keep the excitement out of my voice.
“Bear in mind that this woman is from the Grounds and will require lessons in etiquette, as well as how to dress the part. At the moment, I cannot dispatch additional servants to assist in her assimilation. We’re a tad short-staffed with the growing rebellion.
The necessity of your marriage is becoming glaringly obvious. ”
“That’s fine,” I say with a shrug, not entertaining his not-so-inconspicuous nod toward my impending marriage. I’m sure Ellynne and Lowri won’t mind helping the botanist with some etiquette.
A satisfying scratch of his signature at the end of the document nearly tugs a smile from me. I press my lips together to mask it, afraid that my enthusiasm might make him change his mind.
He folds the paper and tips a candle, dripping wax onto it to form a seal. He presses the signet of his ring into the wax as he turns his dark gaze to me. “Try not to make this a habit, Princess. You cannot always get what you desire.”
“I never said I could.” But I can get this one.
“We also must discuss the conditions of your marriage.”
My stomach sinks a little. Queens are expected to immediately produce an heir, to ensure the bloodline will thrive.
Without an heir, my reign would be at risk.
And since no marriage means no heir, remaining unwed also threatens my reign.
Somehow the expectation of begetting royal children frightens me even more than ascending the throne.
“I recall that the condition is: I get to choose my groom from your carefully handpicked list of suitors.”
His jaw tightens, a vein pulsing visibly in his temple. “Yes, provided you properly weigh the pros and cons and decide which union would be best for the kingdom.”
The dress gets heavier in my arms. I drape it over my shoulder and nod to Iywan. “I am aware of the importance of my choice.”
“I would hope so. You’ve been preparing for this since childhood. I trust you’ll make the right decision.”
My chest tightens and I clear my throat to loosen the tension. “Once I have my new dressmaker, I’ll be able to better focus on the conditions of my marriage.” So romantic. “Much gratitude to you, Lord Iywan.”
He stands and bows slightly before I offer him a pinched smile and get the hells out of his study as quickly as I can.