Page 24

“I’m not sure splitting up is the wisest of moves.”

It was a token protest from Perri, they both knew it.

Alia, busy glaring at her reflection in the mirror, fighting the urge to fidget as her sister finished arranging her hair. Pinning the sides up in simple braids. Leaving the bulk to fall in heavy dark golden waves down to the middle of her back.

“You want to catch a glimpse of Levi, don’t you?”

“More than anything.”

“Well, he won’t be at the gathering this morning where each of the bridal candidates is expected to display a talent or aptitude.”

Alia’s gaze flicked to the morning schedule that had been slipped under their door at the crack of dawn. Talent? She highly doubted the aristos would be interested in watching her bring down a boar, and proceed to gut and skin it in record time. Pity.

Talent? Alia’s concerns that she was about to make an embarrassing public spectacle of herself were only minor when compared to Perri’s current state of mind. She looked pale, with dark heavy circles under her anxious blue eyes.

“It will be fine.”

Alia grabbing her sister’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Yes, I’m sure you’re right… what talent do you intend to exhibit?”

“I’m still trying to decide.”

Finished with Alia’s hair, Perri had moved on to smoothing down the hunter green collar of her sister’s jacket. Very similar in style to the one she’d worn the previous day, though with more elaborate gem work along the lapels. Which drew attention to the creamy expanse of Alia’s full bosom and the glaring pink ridged scar that slashed across her throat.

“You don’t intend to sing, do you?”

“Heavens, no.”

“Good. I mean, that’s sensible… you’re not known for your voice.”

There sounded a faint knock at the door, Perri flinging a pale blue scarf that matched her dress over her head before moving to answer it. Ushering in Deacon. Closing the door behind him, Perri pulled off the scarf and eyed him, the Lair had a master spy of their own. He was mute, in his late teens, with a mop of curly dark hair that hid intelligent watchful eyes. His nose long, and he was only just finally beginning to grow into it. Perri signed, enquiring about Deacon’s health, his accommodation and whether he was getting enough to eat. He was a growing boy, he never got enough to eat, and happily caught the apple Alia sent hurtling his way.

Once Deacon had assured them he was happy sleeping at the stables in Dominio’s stall, and that Master Molbee was ensuring he was fed, he began to update the sisters on all the news he’d managed to gather yesterday and this morning. It was a whirlwind of gossip. Prudently Deacon concentrated upon the bridal candidates, their entourages, the Royals and finally, Regal Soutner.

Deacon’s hands flashing like quicksilver. It was a torrent of whom was sleeping or flirting with whom. Secret trade agreements. Who owed who money. And lastly Regal, and his movements. It seems he had brought four loyal servants with him. A rough lot who enjoyed the dirty work their master oft required of them. Three were currently housed at a nearby ale house, carousing and awaiting instructions. The fourth acted as his valet and bodyguard, residing in Regal’s suite.

Levi, according to Deacon, was left to pretty much fend for himself. The lad resorting to stealing food off trays left outside suites. Spending the rest of his time ducking his father, the valet, and the other aristo children that had accompanied their families here, but were deemed too young to participate in royal events.

The only other big news Deacon had to impart was that all the candidates appeared to be in a tizzy, due to the announcement of a masked ball to be held tomorrow eve.

Perri was horrified by the news. Scrabbling on the dressing room table, turning over today’s hand printed schedule, noting the bold calligraphy lettering that had been added there that Alia had chosen to say nothing about.

“A masked ball! What are you going to wear?”

“A mask.”

“It’s a ball! According to the invite it’ll be the first time the bridal candidates are to be presented to the King and Queen. You need a dress.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t pack one of those. You said to leave everything up to you… did you pack me a dress?”

“No! And I don’t have enough material left to make you one.”

The sisters stared at each other in frustration before Deacon clapped his hands together, rolling his eyes for emphasis before signing.

“Why don’t you just go buy one?”

“He’s right. Pallene is a big city, it’s bound to have dressmakers, or at least a place I can find fabric. And you’ll need shoes. And a mask. But what about Levi? I was going to spend the day… following him.”

Deacon clicked his fingers.

“I have an idea.”

And that’s how Perri found herself twenty minutes later approaching her son. Her son! Darnation, her knees were trembling. Beyond certain she was about to throw up. Which would be most inconvenient, since she’d secured a pale blue scarf over her face that matched her dress. Her fingers creeping up to check if it was still pinned in place for what had to be the tenth time in the last five minutes. Deacon snatching her hand down and squeezing it hard, getting her attention.

“It will be fine.”

He signed.

“What if it’s not?”

She whispered back, barely able to get the words out.

“He will likely be more scared of you than you are of him. Just treat him like a patient who won’t take his medicine.”

They rounded the last pillar, and there he was, Levi, shoulders hunched, trying to look unobtrusive and small, all but hidden by a large climbing rose in full bloom that had been trained over this little used Palace entrance. Perri doubted many people would think to look back there, and as hiding places went it was a good one.

From this angle though, as they approached, she had an unobstructed view. Soaking him in all at once was heady stuff. His hair, so like hers now. It had been several shades lighter when he’d been a toddler. Now though it was too long, almost past his ears and badly cut. His face, she thought him beautiful, but too pinched and thin, his cheeks all but hollowed out. His clothes just barely fit, his wrists and ankles exposed by the threadbare black trousers and what had once been a cream shirt, but was now closer to yellow in colour. His ankle boots a sad mess, the leather pitted and worn, she doubted the soles would last much longer.

Perri wanted to dash forward, yank Levi into her arms and never let him go. Taking a deep breath, she locked her hands together, straightened her spine and channelled Master Healer Mary.

“You there, boy. Come out of there and make yourself useful. Yes, you. I see you. Here. Now.”

Levi sidled out of the shadows, his head swivelling constantly, looking perhaps either for the bullying aristo lads or his father’s brutish valet. His eyes. Look at them. They’d been paler when he was younger, closer to Regal’s colour but now they were dark blue, closer to Alia’s… and so full of fear, Perri’s heart ached for him.

“Yes, you’ll do. Come along, you can help me with my errands today… and earn a coin or two in the process.”

Levi still looked like he wanted to bolt.

“But first we’ll get some pastries and hot chocolate. Errands cannot be performed on an empty stomach I say.”

He almost gave himself a neck strain as his head spun around at the prospect of food. A hopeful yet wary look on his face.

“Lead the way, Deacon. You mentioned a teashop you saw yesterday near the high street with marvellous treats in the window.”

Deacon had done no such thing, but she had faith he would have scouted one out.

Thirty minutes later Perri pushed the last iced bun across the table in Levi’s direction. He’d already had three, but she’d caught his gaze constantly drifting towards it.

“You might as well have it.”.

“Um… but… Your Ladyship, you haven’t had any.”

“I found the hot chocolate quite filling enough.”

She’d unclasped three pins, and managed the occasional polite faux sip under her scarf. With Levi sitting across from her, wide eyed, his gaze constantly travelling around the tea parlour, as if he’d never seen the like before, it had made it impossible to choke down any liquid, so Perri had pretended.

It had been a hard fought battle not to pepper Levi with questions. Instead, she’d let him eat and drink, whilst she made a list of things she would need in regards to shopping today. Gods, so many spelling mistakes, it was almost impossible to read her own writing.

Looking at Levi now, she allowed herself an indulgent smile behind the veil. The rim of chocolate and frosting around him mouth made him look younger than twelve. Resisting the urge to do it for him, she handed over a napkin.

“Wipe your face, boy… I can’t keep calling you that, what’s your name?”

“Levi.”

“You may call me Lady Perri, and this is Deacon.”

“He can’t speak?”

“I speak fine.”

Deacon signed, then folded his napkin away precisely, watching the boy imitate him.

“He says he speaks fine.”

Perri advised.

“He uses sign language to communicate.”

“And you understand him?”

Levi’s eyes were wide, impressed.

“When I was younger, I had a friend who couldn’t hear.”

Suddenly Levi looked pale and scared again.

“What happened to him?”

“I… I don’t know. We were on a ship… and he just disappeared one day.”

Perri could tell from the deeply troubled expression on his face that her son knew exactly what had happened to his friend… Regal. Perhaps his father had just been bored. Or maybe the boy had in some way offended him. She wondered whether Levi had witnessed his father fling the child overboard, or just suspected. Either way, Perri loathed the haunted look in her son’s eyes.

“Come.”

Standing up abruptly, otherwise she was going to sweep Levi into her arms and never let him go, and wouldn’t that just scare the life out of him. Some mysterious woman who keeps her face covered absconding with him.

“Deacon, Alia and I need outfits for the ball. Dresses. Shoes. Masks. Lead the way.”

They exited the tea shop, following Deacon as he led them through the city streets. Her guide ignoring the signs pointing to the city market square, leading them instead to a narrow street that was cobbled and clean. The shops lining it had large windows, gilt lanterns, and enormous hanging baskets above their doorways dripping with colourful flowers.

Perri had money, but this group of shops screamed exclusive. Unsurprisingly there was a number of carriages already present, recognising the family crests of most of the bridal candidates. Servants milling about in satin livery, watching the horses and waiting to fetch packages.

Whilst their daughters were busy showcasing their talents at this morning’s scheduled gathering, their Mamas and sisters had made haste to the dressmakers and cobblers as soon as they’d read the masked ball invitation.

Damn, they were going to be last in line. Perhaps if they just found a fabric shop, Perri could fashion some outfits. Glancing Deacon’s way, about to instruct him to take them elsewhere, but he was pushing his way through the throng of servants, leaving little choice but to follow him. Levi trailing reluctantly in her wake.

Passing the biggest shop window yet, Perri paused, staring at the mannequin wearing a lush midnight navy confection of silk and gauze. Where the head should be there was nothing but a mass of feathers, a sparkling mask pinned to them. Oh, my. Now there was talent. Perri had no hope of creating two outfits even close to the calibre of such a creation, she just wasn’t that gifted. Deacon breaking the spell of the glamorous outfit by clapping his hands together to get her attention.

“Wait!”

But he’d already disappeared inside the shop. Heavens, the lad was mad if he thought who ever owned this establishment and had created that dress would have the time to help a latecomer such as herself in dire need of two dresses. One for an abnormally tall woman.

“Don’t you know who I am?”

“Money is no object.”

“I demand service. I was here first!”

“Mama, Evagene would look beyond divine in that dress in the window if it were done in a pastel shade. She must wear it, the Prince will fall in love with her immediately”

“My sister would look even better in it. And the Prince will immediately ask for her hand in marriage right then and there.”

So many ladies crowded in what was rather a large shop normally, that Perri had to fight the urge to cover her ears, they were just so very strident and loud. Instead, she latched hold of Levi’s wrist, as he was edging back towards the door. She didn’t blame him. She’d like to turn around and leave also, but there had to be a reason Deacon would bring them here, of all these shops.

A bell began to clang, cutting off the ladies in mid word. Perri couldn’t see who spoke, but she recognised their voice immediately.

“Gentle ladies, as I advised, I will only be working with one client and they have arrived. Please make your way to the exit in an orderly fashion. I hope you will return at some future date, when my appointment book is not already full.”

The head of every lady present swivelled to eye Perri. Loathing. Contempt. Disbelief. Outrage. They were just a few of the more mild emotions that flashed across their faces. Then the whispering started.

“Her?”

“Who is she?”

“It’s the wraith who haunts the Palace hallways.”

“It’s the tormented ghost seeking her long lost love.”

“I saw her yesterday, watching the quarry-hammer game.”

“Lady Gloomenthrall.”

The man who was forced to elbow his way through the throng of still hovering ladies was slim as a rake, and fastidiously outfitted in a dark purple satin jacket and matching trousers. His raven hair precisely cut, whilst gold rimmed glasses drew attention to dark flashing eyes. He was probably middle aged but had a mischievous smile that made him seem younger.

“It’s my honour to renew our acquaintance.”

He swept a low graceful bow.

“I am beyond humbled that you have chosen my establishment to bless with your patronage.”

Several ladies huffed in outrage. Several more looked like they were going to protest vigorously until one young lady broke the silence with a too loud whisper.

“Mama, we need to go now, whilst everyone’s distracted. Mettingers has a good reputation.”

The ladies panicked, all trying to head for the doors at once. Perri thanked the Deities above she still had a hold of Levi, otherwise he would have been trampled underfoot.

“Lastonne?”

The name sounded so loud in the sudden silence.

“Perri, my sweet.”

Lastonne straightened his glasses, eyeing Perri.

“Blue suits you.”

He made no reference to her veil, instead leaning forward to plant an effusive kiss where he presumed her cheek would be.

“Gads, it’s been forever.”

“Four years at least. You always had a very neat turn of stitch but I thought you would have gone into some type of healing work.”

“What can I say, I met a man. And before you know it, I was opening a little haberdashery shop, that just got bigger and bigger… and now I’m here.”

“The place looks wonderful. I’m so glad you’ve found your calling.”

Lastonne had come to them on a pilgrimage some eight years ago. The love of his life had just died. His own family long ago rejecting him because of his inclinations. He’d been depressed and defeated, trying to figure out if it was worthwhile continuing to live on, alone. They’d put him to work. And over time he’d formed friendships and healed, slowly. Eventually he’d left the Lair to try his luck in the big wide world.

“I’m so glad you could see it. When Deacon stopped by yesterday to say hello, I insisted he bring you on by. And how fortuitous. As soon as news of the masked ball broke, I knew you and Alia would be my only clients. You’re going to look stunning, the pair of you. I specialise in masks, you know.”

Lastonne waved a hand, drawing Perri’s gaze towards the nearest wall that was studded with sparkling evocative masks. Each a work of art in its own right.

“They’re gorgeous. Alia will no doubt look stunning in one of your creations. I have all her measurements right here. But don’t go to any trouble for me. I just need something simple.”

“You wound me. I don’t do simple. No… I will not hear a single protest. Now, let’s you and I go into the back so we can take some measurements and look at what I have in mind for you my darling girl. I’m afraid you boys will just have to amuse yourselves out here.”

Perri noted Levi’s gaze travel over all the rich fabrics and sparkles on display as if he’d never seen the like. Although given the sad state of his clothes, perhaps he’d never been in a tailor shop before. She was tempted to buy him some new clothes, but Regal or his servants would want to know where he’d gotten such items. Damn, wasn’t there anything she could do to help her son right now?

“We should order in a big lunch.”

She could feed him, that’s what she could do.

“Already done. I have several seamstresses who work for me and we eat together every day, family style.”

“Wonderful.”

Observing Deacon pull some knuckle bones from one of his pockets, holding them out to Levi, his head tilted in query. Soon the two boys were crouched together on the floor, focused on their game.

“And will I have a chance to meet this man of yours, who makes you glow when you mention him?”

“He’ll come by for lunch. Conveniently he works in the shop right next door.”

“The shoemaker?”

She recalled the gorgeous display windows they’d passed.

“That’s the one. Don’t worry, I already have him working on shoes for you and Alia.”

She thought of the ragged barely holding together shoes Levi was wearing, and fought back tears of anger. Blinking them away as a thought sparked. She’d just had a very clever idea of how to help Levi and ensure that Regal would be none the wiser.

But first, the reason she was here.

“The navy number in the window would be a perfect foil on Alia.”

“Undeniably.”

Lastonne agreed.

“But I’ll bet you money that every Mama who’s seen it is requesting a navy dress from their dressmaker right at this moment for themselves. Come see the sketch and fabric I’ve already picked out for Alia.”

Perri followed Lastonne through the busy workroom, where at least seven staff were industriously bent over foot propelled sewing machines, hard at work. They stopped at a massive upright desk, four lanterns overhead casting bright light down upon a large sketchbook.

“Oh, my. It’s beautiful.”

The design was stunning and the colour looked sinfully rich and decadent. “Crimson.”

Reaching over to caress a swatch of fabric Lastonne had draped over a waiting mannequin beside the desk. Samples of matching gauze, dyed feathers and an array of sparkling gems beside it on the table in readiness.

“I call the design – Blaze. None of those simpering pastels the other candidates are insisting upon for our glorious Beast. You approve?”

“Heartily.”

Alia was going to be breathtaking.

“And for you.”

Lastonne reached over, flipping the page.

“Black?”

But it was as far from sombre or widow weeds as a dress could be. If anything, the design screamed illicit boudoir wear, worn by the naughtiest, the most beautiful mistress a man could ever dream of having.

“It’s… it’s amazing. But too much. I couldn’t possibly.”

And Perri couldn’t. All that flesh on display? And that mask in the picture was nothing but pure fantasy. Everyone would point and either laugh or run in horror.

“You can and you will.”

Lastonne leaned over, whispering in her ear.

“I will create a mask just for you, fitted perfectly to your face. Let me do this for you, Perri. Trust me. I would never embarrass you or leave you open to ridicule. I’m very good at my craft. Even if it’s only for one night, allow yourself to walk amongst the aristos without the veil. Drink, eat, dance… flirt.”

Perri’s thoughts instantly went to Brandth. And the suggestion, no, invitation he’d issued last evening. This was the type of outfit a woman who indulged in casual affairs wore. Could Perri be that type of woman?

“What… what do you call it? This creation of yours.”

Lastonne smiled broadly, clearly knowing he’d just won the argument. “Wicked.”