Chapter 15 #2
“Right…” Before I can run with another question, a shrewd little man opens the door. The rounded spectacles, balanced precariously on the tip of his pink nose, nearly topple off when his eyes catch sight of Roe.
“Roe! What a pleasant surprise! I haven’t forgotten an appointment with our king today, have I? The damned holdfast order hasn’t been kind to this old man’s memory.”
“Oh, no Aeron, we don’t have an appointment. My friend here needs some new clothes, and I was hoping we could take advantage of your specialties,” Roe replies, highlighting her last word with a knowing glance.
“Anything for my favorite emissary! Please, please, come in,” Aeron says, clasping his little hands together. He steps aside to allow us both in.
Aeron’s shop is a whirlwind of fabric scraps and entangled thread.
Spools of every color clutter the shelves, interspersed by rolls upon rolls of lavish silks, velvets, and chiffon.
My breath catches as I take in the multitude of shades, all kaleidoscoping in an overwhelming menagerie I didn’t even know existed.
The tailor guides us around various cabinets and sewing stations until we reach a section of the shop shrouded behind a thick curtain.
“So, what can I do for you today, Miss…?” Aeron rummages through an overstuffed cabinet, pitching discarded supplies in every direction.
“Lindwen,” I reply. The mention of my surname draws a warning look from Roe, now seated across from me on a patchwork divan.
“She needs a few sets of trousers and tunics—appropriate for travel with additional inseam pockets for…concealed possessions,” Roe chimes in with a pointed look toward me that screams shut the fuck up, before I stab you.
Aeron raises a thick, bushy brow but says nothing. He simply retrieves a tape from the hutch beside us and taps my hand. “Hold out your arms, please, dear.”
I oblige his request, watching the old man hobble from one hand to the other, measuring my wingspan with a masterful eye. He mutters something to himself then shifts attention to my chest, hips, and leg lengths.
“So, you’re from Sea, then…” I deal Roe a cautious look. If we’re forced to work together, I’d like to learn more about the murderous little woman stiff and cross-legged opposite me. The enemy of my enemy is my friend or some bullshit like that.
“Yes,” is all she offers in response.
“I’ve never been, but I’ve heard it’s quite pleasant in the warm season,” I say. Aeron shuffles to his supply hutch on light feet, humming a whimsical tune to himself.
“It’s not,” she replies.
I fight the teeth now biting my tongue and mold a friendly smile over my lips. Roe picks at her jagged little nails, a cruel, indignant glower permanently cast in her features.
“But the western coast this time of year must be gorgeous. Cooler waters, white sand to match. Sounds divine to me—” Aeron jabs a pin through the scrap of black cotton he’s wrapped over my abdomen.
“If you could please stay as still as possible, dear,” he says, adjusting the spectacles back up his nose.
“S-sorry,” I reply, my cheeks blanching with a newfound wave of embarrassment.
Throughout my life I’ve received only second, third, maybe even fourth time hand-me-downs.
My tunics, patched and torn, never quite fit.
Nor did the trousers for that matter. Now, here I am, draped in the highest quality fabrics and leathers.
It isn’t just the silvery waves of hair sending reminders that I’m as much of an outsider as a stray dog.
Maybe my sudden…and infuriating, urge to make conversation isn’t just a strategic choice? Gods be good, I don’t seriously want to befriend the she-demon across from me, do I? No, it’s simply gathering intel, that’s all.
“So, do you ever get to return home?” I ask. My thumb fidgets at my palm as Aeron continues sculpting me in waves of midnight fabric.
“Look, courier…” Annoyance surges through the bright flecks of blue in Roe’s narrowed eyes.
“Just because I saved your ass one time doesn’t mean we’re the best of friends now.
I don’t trust you—not even a little bit—so give the small talk a rest and let Aeron work in peace.
The sooner we’re done here, the sooner you can return to your miserable little life back in Smoke or wherever the hells you’re truly from. ”
“Noted,” I snip, jaw clenching with the ruthless whip of Roe’s tone. Aeron’s fingers lapse around a pin, sending the sliver of metal clanking to the floor.
“Should I give you two a moment?” he asks before kneeling on stiff knees to retrieve it.
“No Aeron, my apologies. Please, continue your work,” Roe says, sliding from the divan. “I’ll be outside when you’ve finished.”
Later that evening, Jace knocks on my bedchamber door with my pack of weapons slung over his back.
“I’ve brought a gift,” he says, and the flicker of candlelight in his inky gaze almost seems genuine. I stiffen as he leans over the doorway, bracing himself on an outstretched arm. “Can I come in?” he asks, his lips spreading into a wicked smirk.
“No,” I snap and rip the pack from his grip. “I’m exhausted from the day and would like a few moments of quiet before I’m forced to withstand a two week journey with only you for company.”
He places a mocking hand across his heart and dips his chin. “I assure you Nova Lindwen, I’m an exceptional travel companion.”
“You’ve given me my weapons, why would you willingly place yourself alone in a room with me?” I scoff.
“Because I’m not afraid of you,” Jace replies, adjusting the ring. “And I know you won’t try anything you’ll regret.”