“If you don’t want to buy a book, I know where we can borrow some,” Alle muttered out of the corner of her mouth as I dawdled over the used books. The bookseller was glaring at us, no doubt wondering if we were ever going to stop touching the books and actually purchase one. “Neneh, the pastry apprentice across the way, has loads of books. She’ll loan you one.”
“Lovely,” I said, and we walked away giggling at the bookseller’s sour expression.
“I’ll take you over today, if you like. I’ve been dying to read this new romance about a goose girl who –” Alle grabbed my arm, freezing in mid-sentence. “Oh. Good day, Your Royal Highnesses,” she squeaked.
I tore my attention away from the next booth, which was displaying some strange spiny fruit, and saw that Prince Luka and his brother, Crown Prince Milun, were standing in front of us.
Much to my embarrassment, I found myself blushing and had to clear my throat twice before I could talk. “Hello, Luka, Tobin,” I said. I gave a little bob to the crown prince, since he and I had never been formally introduced. “Your Royal Highness.”
The crown prince gazed at me in amazement. “So this is the same girl?”
My blush faded as I looked from one brother to the other. “I beg your pardon, Your Royal Highness?”
Luka laughed. “You’re becoming quite famous around the palace. First as the would-be assassin of small, pampered dogs, then as the evil girl who refused to give her shoes to the poor, shoe-deprived princess. Amalia is more certain than ever that you are in the pay of some anti-Roulaini group.”
“Oh, dear,” I groaned. I didn’t really care what Amalia thought of me, but what Luka thought? That was a different matter entirely.
“Don’t worry about it.” Luka patted me on the arm, making Alle gasp at the familiarity of his gesture. “We’ve tried time and again to explain to her that in Feravel we can’t force anyone to give up their property, but I’m not sure she believes us.” He shrugged. “We’ll keep trying.
“Forgive my manners,” he said abruptly. “This is my brother, the Crown Prince Milun, or Miles as we all call him. Miles, this is Creel Carlbrun and …?”
“Oh, I beg your pardon!” I took Alle’s elbow and guided her forward. She had been hanging back behind me with her jaw down around her feet. “This is my friend Alle, who also works in Madame Derda’s shop.”
“A pleasure to meet you both,” Miles said with a stiff little bow.
“This is my bodyguard, Tobin,” Luka added, seeing Alle’s questioning look. Tobin grinned.
“Er, how nice,” Alle stammered.
“Luka, you’re frightening her,” I teased the prince.
“I know, it’s because I’m so commanding and kingly,” he teased back. “Would you ladies care for some starfruit?” He nudged Miles with an elbow.
“Er, yes. Some refreshment.” Miles held up four fingers to the fruit seller, and purchased four of the strange spiny things.
“Thank you,” I said, accepting the exotic fruit with delight. “But what about Tobin?”
Miles looked confused.
“Doesn’t he want one?”
“Tobin? But he’s just a bodyguard,” Miles said dismissively.
“And Alle and I are just shopgirls,” I said as politely as I could. “And yet you bought one for me.”
“Well, er, you –”
Tobin smiled at me and shook his head, then moved his hands in a strange, fluttering way.
“Tobin says ‘thank you’,” Luka said in his cheerful way. “But starfruit makes him break out in a rash.”
“Blech. That doesn’t sound very pleasant,” I said.
Tobin made a face and nodded.
“And you thought he was already scary-looking,” Luka said as he tossed his fruit high and then caught it on the back of one hand. He rolled the spiny thing up his arm and across his shoulders, then down into his other hand. Alle and I applauded while Tobin rolled his eyes and Miles studiously peeled his fruit with a knife.
“I hope you two aren’t getting up to any trouble,” Marta said, at her most flirtatious as she joined us. “Our mistress will be very displeased if you have been fresh with any young men in the –” Marta broke off and went into a deep curtsy. “Your Highnesses.”
“And this is Marta,” I said, doing my best to keep a straight face.
Prince Miles looked around and frowned at the booths. “Lukie, why are we here? I doubt I will find anything to please Amalia in this market.”
I was taken aback by his tone. Didn’t he realise that this market was barely within our means?
“Why, Miles,” Luka said, “I was doing you a favour by bringing you here! It would be impossible to find anything grand enough for Amalia at the shops around the palace. I thought that instead you could get her something simple yet heartfelt.”
And with the rest of us in tow, Prince Luka made his way over to the booth with the glaring bookseller. He searched through the displayed books for a moment and then held up one, bound in calfskin, that was almost as thick as it was tall. He flashed his brother a triumphant smile.
“Aha! The Compleat History of the Indigenous Peoples of Northern Feravel,” he read off the spine. “Just the thing! As we are now her people, I think it would be very appropriate for her to acquaint herself with our, er, indigenous northern peoples.” Luka managed to keep a straight face for another heartbeat, then he burst out laughing.
Miles bristled a little at Luka’s teasing, but gave the book a thoughtful look. “Amalia is interested in Feravelan history,” he said, taking the book to flip through its pages.
“Really?” I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my voice. I would have thought that Amalia would prefer novels with lots of romance and clothing descriptions, if she read at all.
“I need to purchase a suitable bride-gift for the princess,” Miles said. “And she is always hounding me with questions about our history.” He wrinkled his nose at the book. “I’m not sure this is quite the thing, though.”
Luka grinned and took the book back. “Well, if you won’t get it for her, I will. I think it’s the perfect gift for my future sister-in-law.” He gave me a wink. “You have plenty of time to find something else. Let’s take these three delightful girls to a bun shop and buy them tea and sweets.” He turned and started away.
“Luka! Wait!” I caught his arm, laughing. “You forgot to pay for your Compleat History of the North, or whatever it’s called.”
“Why, so I did!” He put a hand to his belt pouch.
“Oh, Your Highness, please,” the bookseller protested. He was all unctuous smiles now that his customers were royalty. “Please accept it as a gift, I insist.”
“Oh, no, dear fellow. A fine book like this must be paid for.” And Luka tossed him a silver coin. Half my month’s wages, or what they would be when I was done paying for my shopgown. The bookseller’s eyes gleamed.
“That’s too much,” I hissed out of the corner of my mouth.
Hearing me, the merchant glared evilly in my direction.
“Very well,” Luka said in his breezy way. “Will that be enough to pay for a fine book for each of these three lovely ladies?”
The man gave a grudging nod.
I selected a pretty little edition of The Lay of Irial, an epic poem about the maiden Irial, who learned wisdom from a dragon only to have her suitor slay the dragon by accident. It was bound in calfskin, like The Compleat History, but ornamented with scrollwork that gave me an idea for an embroidery pattern. Alle took an adventure novel, and Marta, to everyone’s surprise, chose a history of Lady Marita, the first apostle of the Triune Gods.
“What?” She was blushing at our stares. “I was named for her.”
Luka and I laughed and talked our way through lunch at a nearby bun shop. Eventually Alle and Marta conquered some of their awe and joined in, but Miles’s stiffness made it hard for them to forget he was the future king. After lunch we whiled away the rest of the afternoon looking at more booths.
The Great Fair was just getting under way, and there was hardly a street that wasn’t lined with people from all over Feravel and beyond, hawking their wares. By the eve of the Merchants’ Ball, the climax of the fair, the city would be bursting at the seams.
We all suggested increasingly outrageous items for Miles to give to Amalia as a bride-gift. He seemed to like one of my ideas, though. In a shop that sold strands of pastel-hued freshwater pearls, I recommended that he buy a few strands and a clasp to hold them together. The pearls were locally caught, and it had been the fashion since my grandmother’s time to wear multiple strands twisted together and held in place with clasps made of native jasper, which was more pink than red.
Miles gave me a nod of thanks and considered several strands with care before declaring that he would have to think on it, and come back again. The shopkeeper also gave me a grateful look, and promised me a real bargain on my next purchase, if the prince should grace his shop again. I thanked the man gravely, all the while thinking that if I ever did have money to throw around, I still wouldn’t buy a necklace. I’d buy silk. Or a pair of slippers that didn’t make my feet itch.
The two princes and Tobin walked us back to Derda’s, where she met us at the door, all smiles and offers of tea. Luka and Miles refused with polite bows, and went on their way. Giggling and gossiping, we made our way up the stairs to our bedroom. Larkin was already asleep in her little room. As the oldest apprentice she had her own room across the hall. It was hardly bigger than a closet, but at least she didn’t have to fight anyone over the blankets.
I stripped down to my shift, hanging my old gown next to my new pink one. We snuggled into bed to read our new books. It was hours before I blew out the candle and we all wiggled into comfortable positions and went to sleep.
When I woke the next morning, there was a hideous ball gown of very expensive satin and velvet laid across the room’s lone chair.
And, although I didn’t notice at first, my blue slippers were gone.
A Gown Fit for a Princess
“What is that?” Marta wrinkled her nose in disgust when she saw the gown.
“Gah! I have no idea,” I said.
Alle just groaned and put the pillow over her head.
I lifted the strange gown and surveyed it. It was made of heavy velvet and satin, both in the same shade of antique gold. That in itself wasn’t so bad. What was bad was that the seamstress who had made it appeared to have gone mad when decorating the gown.
It had a wide low neck, fitted bodice, and long tight sleeves. The skirt was full, and there were six layers to it: the uppermost of velvet, and the five underneath in satin.
But then there were the roses.
And the great swathes of satin that swooped between each fist-sized flower.
Alle took the pillow off her face, looked at the gown again, and groaned. “I thought I was having a nightmare,” she said, her voice muffled by the pillow once more. “That’s the ugliest gown I’ve ever seen.”
“I agree,” Marta said, lifting a sleeve to inspect the small rosettes that marched in a line from shoulder to wrist. “Who would wear such a thing?”
In addition to the line of rosettes along the sleeve, they also trimmed the cuffs and neckline, and a wide satin sash was draped from the left shoulder to the right hip, beginning and ending with a rose that was very nearly the size of a cabbage.
Larkin appeared in the doorway.
I held out the gown to her. “Have you ever seen the like? Isn’t it hideous?”
Larkin frowned at me. “It’s a dress suitable for a princess,” she declared.
“The princess of what?” Marta’s curls shook as she tossed her head and laughed.
“The Princess of Roulain,” she retorted.
I dropped it back on to the chair as though it had burned my fingers. “I know that Derda is making one of her bridal tour costumes,” I said, my eyes still on the dress. “But what is a ball gown of hers doing in our bedroom?”
“The Princess Amalia has generously given it to you,” Larkin told me.
I was instantly on guard. Amalia was not the generous type. “Why?”
“Because she is great and noble,” she said, her mouth twisted at my unworthiness.
“You’ve never actually met the Princess of Roulain, that much is plain,” Alle jeered, climbing out of bed at last. “She would never give anyone a gown out of the goodness of her heart. She doesn’t have a heart.”
And that was when I realised that my slippers were gone. For a moment I could only stare at the empty space on the floor where they had been. I suddenly knew exactly why the princess had had the generosity to give me a gown. She could afford to give away a gown, especially one as hideous as this.
But I couldn’t afford to lose my slippers.
My stomach was somewhere down by my bare feet, and my heart was beating so slowly that I was sure my blood would congeal in my veins. It wasn’t until Marta jogged my arm that I realised I hadn’t blinked in several minutes.
“Creel? You’re white as a statue. What’s wrong?”
“She took my slippers. The princess took my slippers.” Then I dragged my eyes from the floor to meet Larkin’s innocent gaze. “No, not the princess. You. You took my slippers and gave them to her.”
Grabbing Larkin’s shoulders, I shook her hard. She writhed away, but I snatched at one of her braids and yanked it. She screamed and Derda came flying out of her own bedroom to see what the commotion was about.
“What is the meaning of this?”
“She stole my slippers!” I let go of the braid long enough to take hold of her shoulders and shake her again.
“Let go of her!” Derda herself hauled me away from Larkin, who was blubbering and slapping at me.
“When a member of a royal house asks for something, you give it to her,” Larkin screeched. “You never should have refused her your slippers. She was more than generous to let you have that old gown!”
Derda released my arm and stared at Larkin, her hands on her hips. “Is Creel’s accusation true? You gave Princess Amalia Creel’s slippers?”
“Of course I did. I do not deceive my betters!” Larkin attempted to straighten her gown. It was a grey gown, her best. Or at least it had been: I had torn it when I snatched her by the shoulders. The bodice would need clever stitching, if not replacing, I noticed with satisfaction. “You don’t deserve the duchess’s patronage,” she added. “You have no respect!”
“So, you made a liar of me?” Derda’s eyes were slits.
Larkin quailed. “No, mistress! I merely told the princess that there had been a mistake, that Creel hadn’t understood which slippers Her Highness was asking after.” Then she straightened and glared at me. “I would never complain about serving a princess, like you and Marta. I think it’s an honour.” She tried to smooth her braids, which were tied with new silver ribbons.
My eyes narrowed. There were no ribbons like that in the shop’s supplies. I wondered what else Amalia had given her. “Those were my slippers,” I said, wanting to reach out and grab her by the throat. “You had no right –”
“I have every right to seek the patronage of whomever I choose,” Larkin retorted. “I’m not a slave.”
“Even her patronage?” Marta was indignant. “You know how horrible Amalia is!”
I felt as though a piece of me were missing. Waves of panic and rage and sorrow kept washing over me. It was almost as bad as when Mother and Father had died. “Larkin,” I said with as much patience as I could muster. “I don’t care if you serve Amalia or the Lord of Death himself. They weren’t your slippers to trade. You have to get them back. Now.”
“I can’t do that.” She shook her head adamantly. “She gave her word that you would receive a gown as payment and I gave my word that I would bring them to her. The deal has been made.”
I turned to Derda. “You have to get my slippers back, please. Princess Amalia will listen to you. You’re making one of the gowns for her bridal t
our. Please?”
But Derda shook her head. “Are you mad? We’ve already lied to her once, and she knows it full well. If I try to get those slippers back, Princess Amalia could claim that I’m working with the anti-Roulaini faction that opposes the wedding. I don’t fancy spending ten years in the dungeons because of a pair of shoes.”
All I could do was stand there, clutching my hair and staring from Larkin to Derda in despair. I had bargained with a dragon for those shoes, and now they were gone. I had always known, deep inside, that there was more to the blue slippers than met the eye. They meant something, to the dragons at least.
To the dragons, and to one very spoiled princess.
“What am I going to do?” I whispered the question to myself, but Derda answered.
“You’re going to buy yourself another pair of shoes, and then you’re going to get back to work,” she said in her most brisk voice. “I’m sorry that this happened, but it’s over now, and there will be no more fighting or crying or screaming about it. Is that clear?”
I nodded, dumbfounded. I couldn’t think of what else to do.
“Good. Now, don’t you have a pair of brogues or something to wear?”
“Some old sandals,” I mumbled.
“Hmmm. Marta, take her to a shoemaker and find her some shoes suitable for the shop. Larkin, you will pay half the cost.”
“Only half?” Marta looked outraged. “But, Derda –”
“I said half! Larkin did trade with the princess for the gown, so Creel has been paid for the shoes.”
“Then I shouldn’t have to pay half,” Larkin protested.
“You’ll pay half because I’ve lost face and Creel’s lost her only decent shoes,” Derda shrilled. “Larkin, clean yourself up. Alle, get to work. Marta, Creel, get some shoes and be back as soon as you can.”
Marta and I dressed in silence and made our way out of the shop and down the street. We headed for the same market square where we had spent such a pleasant afternoon the day before. Everything looked different now, in the morning light. Paler and sharper. The paving stones were hard and treacherous beneath the worn soles of my sandals.
Dragonskin Slippers Page 12