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That reminder certainly served to cool Mehl’s ardor. Although the threat might appear lessened, logic and instinct both told him there was more to come. Toren was right. They might prefer to stay abed, but that would not see them prepared.

As in most things, it was now a waiting game.

Chapter44

Plans

The next week was the quickest—and the best—of Ria’s life. Each afternoon, she worked with Feref on setting up her tailoring workshop, and in the mornings, she either attended court or buried herself in the Mage’s Library beneath stacks of glorious books. She far preferred the second, but Toren looked downcast if she missed too many court sessions. He’d claimed that the sight of her standing at the front of the crowd lightened his days.

How could she resist that?

But she had been certain to attend on the day of Tes’s sentencing three days after her father’s. They’d had Tes wear her servant’s guise, the same one from the dining room, and given her a false name. As Toren had sentenced the woman to death for attacking the royal family and stabbing King Mehl, Ria had shivered at the cold, deadly anger in his voice. Tes had to be wondering if she would be executed in truth.

Now, only a week after Ria’s father had been thrown back in the dungeon, she stared out the window of her new workshop at the courtyard where tomorrow’s “execution” would be carried out. What if something went wrong? Neither Toren nor Mehl appeared to have any doubts about the mages who would help with the task, but it still had her stomach knotted with nerves. She couldn’t imagine how Tes felt.

Ria turned at the sound of a knock in time to see Feref enter and bow. “Your Grace, your first client has arrived.”

Whatever snobbery had afflicted the man when they first met had disappeared entirely as she’d directed him on how the workshop should be appointed. There wasn’t a single hint in his voice or manner that he disapproved of the royal consort performing fittings in a modified guest suite outside the family wing.

“Thank you, Feref,” Ria said with a smile.

His lips tilted upward, if only the slightest fraction, before he directed her client into the room. At the sight of Lady Gartren Hesslefyn, however, Ria had to suppress her own instant dislike. The woman was their—her—most demanding customer, and Ria had suffered more than one harsh word from the lady. Even the odd elbow a time or two, although the woman had claimed not to see Ria when she’d swung her arm back.

That wasn’t likely to happen again, at least. If it hadn’t been before, it was clear now that Toren would not take it easy on anyone who hurt her or Mehl. He wouldn’t have someone executed for a stray elbow, but he would happily send them to the dungeon. Ria had a feeling this lady wouldn’t be willing to risk that unpleasant fate.

Ria put on her best pretend smile as Lady Gartren halted in front of her, hesitated, then gave a reluctant curtsey. “There’s no need for that, Lady Gartren.”

A hint of anger flashed in the woman’s eyes at Ria’s use of her first name, but she forced her own fake-pleasant expression. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

The choked sound of the honorific nearly made Ria laugh, but fortunately, she was long accustomed to hiding those kinds of reactions. Especially during work—the wrong sound could prompt her father into a rage. But in this case, Ria wanted Gartren to leave pleased. If she were careful, she might start a trend amongst the noble ladies, but it would take balance to achieve.

She was counting on the cleverest courtiers to boast of having a dress created by the royal consort, in which case Ria’s talent might remain in demand. And maybe—just maybe—she could learn to wield a little power from that very thing. Only the favored would receive one of her designs, after all.

“I realize this is an unusual situation,” Ria said. “But no matter my current station, I would not have it said that I break my word. I know you’re counting on this gown for your engagement ball, so of course you were the first I thought to see.”

Lady Gartren relaxed at those simple hints of continued deference, though Ria considered it more politeness than anything. Well, perhaps a bit of her own cleverness, too. The lady was the second daughter of a duke and held no small amount of power at court.

“You have my thanks, then.” Lady Gartren glanced around the room with a hint more interest, but aside from a couple of displays, there weren't any dresses out here. Only fabric samples and patterns. “Was I not to try on my gown today?”

Ria gestured toward the door at the back. “Of course you are. There are maids ready to assist you in the other room, and then you’ll come out here for me to adjust. I’m afraid I’d have to bring bodyguards if I went back with you myself.”

The lady’s eyes widened as she noticed the pair of guards stationed by the door. “I see.”

It was a perk Ria enjoyed as much as she did the entire self-designed workshop. Once Lady Gartren stood on the platform in the center of the room, Ria began to circle her, tucking, shifting, and reshaping the fabric until it fit the lady to perfection. But each time Gartren’s voice turned waspish, her eyes tracked toward the bodyguards, and she snapped her mouth closed. No misplaced elbows, either.

Ah, what a glorious way to work! All design, no abuse.

Gartren had just left the other room after changing back into her day dress when another knock sounded on the door. Though Ria knew exactly who it was, she fixed her best puzzled look on her face and called for the person to enter. Feref, as planned, who bowed and extended a tray with an envelope atop.

“Forgive the interruption, Your Grace,” Feref said, no hint of awkwardness in his tone. “This missive was delivered to your former residence with some urgency.”

After thanking Feref, Ria lifted the envelope and broke open the seal at once. Lady Gartren’s eyes widened, for she’d surely expected Ria to wait until she’d left to read the note. And she would have, had the scene not been planned.

“Oh, my.” Ria placed her fingertips against her lips. “I should go speak to Toren and Mehl at once.”

Sly curiosity pinched the other woman’s smile. “I do hope it isn’t bad news, Your Grace.”

The bold, probing wretch,Ria grumbled to herself. But it was exactly what she’d expected.