Chapter 28
Durvla
Nearly a fortnight goes by, filled with days of dressmaking and evenings with various lessons from Kilkenny.
The horseback riding lessons precede self-defense and meditation sessions.
He’s as careful as can be, vigilant of my valuable hands, as he so mockingly puts it.
He insists that meditation is as important as learning to protect myself—mental strength boosts physical strength and may help steady those newborn foal legs, he’d said.
As suspicious as I am about Killjoy Kilkenny’s insistence on teaching me these things, they’ve become a surprisingly welcome distraction.
Doing something other than dressmaking keeps me from worrying too much about Taig and Osheen. About Osheen’s family. It keeps me from wallowing in the increasingly vivid nightmares that sap my energy on an almost nightly basis.
I’d take another lewd dream any day over the ones filled with fire and omens, demons, and darkness.
On a good night, I dream of warmer shores, sunshine, and sand beneath my toes.
I dream of lush forests and deep blue oceans.
Of sailing. Or flying. Clearly my subconscious is fed by my desire to get out of this place.
I use it as a driving force to complete Princess Carys’s dress, and I manage to balance a rapidly growing social life within the palace. My time with Princess Carys varies as the breakfast consultations grow shorter, but also less daunting.
It’s hard to believe that I’ve been here for nearly a month.
Brick by brick, my reservations about Mainlanders—at least these Mainlanders—are torn down.
I’ve grown accustomed to the way everyone speaks and lipreading is easier.
I find myself able to relax a little more, and my fear of being discovered as an Undesirable is pushed to the back of my mind.
Ellynne is an absolute sweetheart, consistently attentive, and so very open about her love life. Ostanha be damned, she’s open about everyone’s love life—everyone’s but Carys’s. She’s made it her mission to ensure everyone finds time for fun, as she puts it—as if she’s the god of love herself.
Lowri, on the other hand, is willing to speak when addressed, but otherwise reserved and secretive.
While Ellynne is the picture of punctuality and never late to any summons, despite whose bed she’s in—and she makes a point to tell us—Lowri is the opposite.
Always running late, always profusely apologetic.
Even Eefa has become a daily part of my life, often saving a slice of lemon cake for me.
She’s overtly flirtatious with Carys, while Callum secretly worships the ground Carys walks on.
Whether Carys sees that, I’m not sure. It likely doesn’t matter, since she’s to be married to a nobleman of high standing or another royal.
Still, the way Callum looks at her is heartwarming, yet heartbreaking.
Kilkenny is … Kilkenny. Too confusing to dwell on.
As much as I want to return to Cluain Baile, to my sweet boy, I know I will miss these surprisingly lovely people.
Who would have imagined that I’d come to actually like Mainlanders? Even more surprising, who would’ve imagined they’d like me?
Five days before the Feast, by some divine intervention, all I have left to do is embellish the bodice of Princess Carys’s dress with tiny gold beads. I’m rather proud of the dress. I hope the princess will love it.
As if I’ve summoned her, Princess Carys waltzes into my room. “Is it done?” she asks, but this time there’s no anger or hurried aggression directed at me. Only eagerness.
I beam at her. “Just a few more finishing touches, but yes.”
She comes to an abrupt stop, her eyes wide. “Yes?”
“I’m just sewing on a few more beads and that’s it. Do you want to try it on?”
“Is that even a question?” She walks farther into my room and pulls the string of the call bell.
I tear my focus away from it to Princess Carys. “I’m going to focus fully on this last bit for a moment, so I may not hear you. Just … one moment. Is that alright?”
“Yes, yes, go on.”
“Thank you.” I smile and pick up another bead, threading it onto my needle and securing it by sliding the needle into a stitch on the bodice.
Meanwhile, the princess is pacing back and forth like a predator on the prowl.
It’s distracting, but I force myself to add a few more beads until I’m satisfied with the appearance.
At last, I secure the final bead, sever the thread, and stick the needle into my pincushion before announcing, “Finished!”
At that moment, Ellynne strides in. “Is it dress fitting time?” she asks excitedly.
Princess Carys turns to her and responds in a way that makes Ellynne grin even wider. Something else is asked of her and Ellynne glances over her shoulder before saying, “… kitchen a moment ago … started without her though.”
It’s hard to make out all her words from the small distance, but I assume they’re talking about Lowri.
“Wonderful,” says Princess Carys, turning her back as Ellynne approaches. She pulls her dark, golden-streaked braid over her shoulder so that it settles against her hip.
“Have you ever cut your hair?” I blurt out, my nervousness dissolving my filter. I immediately regret it when two sets of eyes gawk at me. I shrink back into myself. “Sorry if that’s too personal …”
“It’s not,” says Princess Carys. “And yes. Once or twice in my life, but I can’t exactly remember when.”
“It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen dark hair with streaks like that.”
“It runs in the family. And I wouldn’t have been able to take care of this on my own. Ellynne is incredible.”
Ellynne is busy unbuttoning the back of the dress the princess is currently wearing, so I don’t make out her response, but the princess laughs.
Ellynne makes quick work of removing the gown and corset.
By the time Princess Carys is down to her gossamer chemise, Lowri slips into the room and practically runs to Ellynne’s side.
“I’ve sewn some extra fabric into the underlayer of the bodice, so you won’t need the chemise,” I tell Carys. “But you can keep it on for now just for—”
And the chemise is off. Tossed into Lowri’s hands like it’s no big deal. Lowri giggles and sets it aside with the rest of the princess’s clothes. My face must be red because the very naked, very unabashed Princess Carys smiles with slow amusement, “Durvla, are you blushing?”
I nearly trip over my feet as I approach.
Carys’s cheeky grin expands. “You don’t have tits of your own?”
The other two laugh, and I force a smile onto my face.
“For the love of Rhianu, Durvla,” says Carys. “People have been dressing me since I was a child. I’m not ashamed. And Ellynne would roam the corridors naked as a wee babe if we allowed it.”
“Clothing is so restrictive.” Ellynne shrugs.
They laugh and I relax into my smile.
“Lowri was like you not too long ago,” she says. “She was briefly the wife to a stuffy old duke before joining my service.”
Lowri nods shyly. At nineteen, she’s more than old enough to have been a wife, but it still surprises me. She smiles, but it doesn’t make it to her eyes.
The princess waves and I pull my gaze back to her. “Remember me?” she asks.
My pulse quickens. “Right,” I say past the tightness in my throat. “I’ll just … hand this over and let you ladies handle the dressing. Please be careful.” Gods, what if it rips, or the beads fall off, or it unravels completely?
What if she hates it?
With trembling hands, I place the dress in Ellynne’s arms and half-watch as she and Lowri help Princess Carys into it. Part of me cringes at the speed with which Ellynne pulls it up over Princess Carys’s narrow hips, the lace stretching. I bite my lip so hard that it stings. “Careful,” I murmur.
Ellynne glances at me, nodding in understanding. I hold my breath and count until dizziness presses into my awareness. Until I’ve made it to nearly forty-five and haven’t exhaled. When I do, it all comes out in a rush.
Then Ellynne and Lowri step away and the three of us stare at Princess Carys in her finished gown.
The fit is perfect, tapered at her tiny waist, extending subtly at her hips and then cascading downward.
The bodice hugs her torso, the black lace extending from the waist and overlaying the top half of the deep purple skirt in valleys and peaks.
The lace on the décolletage curves over her petite breasts, showing just a bit of cleavage without being overly revealing.
The back of the dress dips downward in a wide V that ends at her waist, leaving her back mostly exposed.
Princess Carys’s freckles stand out against her already pale face as she blanches. “What?” she asks as we stare at her.
Ellynne steps forward and I only make out one word: stunning.
Lowri bobs her head enthusiastically in agreement.
Lifting the skirts, Princess Carys hurries to the floor-length mirror.
The other two ladies follow while I remain rooted to the spot.
Deep breaths, I remind myself. I close my eyes, gathering my composure.
I finally convince myself to move as Princess Carys steps back from the mirror in apparent shock.
She edges forward again and leans closer as I approach.
She blinks once. Twice. She turns her head slowly to face me.
“Durvla …” She says. “Durvla, Durvla, Durvla, I knew you’d come through for me.
I knew it. I knew it! This is bloody brilliant.
Incredible!” She turns and spots the low back of her dress in the mirror.
Her jaw drops. “Oh, my gods, I’m going to knock them all dead!
Their heads will explode! Durvla, I adore this dress! ”
I turn her words over in my head again and again.
She adores the dress! My tension finally dissipates, though now I’m shaking, relief and excitement coursing through me.
My smile spreads so wide, my cheeks twitch in protest. “Is it the dress of your dreams?” I ask.
Princess Carys grins. “More than I could’ve ever dreamed. Look at this! Damn all the gods above and below. You are a goddess, Durvla.”
I’m so surprised at the statement that laughter bubbles out of me. If I were coordinated enough, I’d do a happy dance right now. Instead, I stand there like a fool.
Princess Carys steps toward me. Is she going to hug me? Her hands raise, her body leans in, but she stiffens and lays a hand on my shoulder instead. “You’ve gone above and beyond, Durvla. I owe you.”