28

I WORKED GREEN SILK VINES INTO THE SHAWL, IMBUING EACH stitch with the dark sparkle I pulled from the air, until just before Alice arrived the next morning. I ran outdoors, was sick, and had cleaned myself up and stopped sweating before she walked in the door. I promptly sent her out for tea.

“It’s looking very pretty,” Penny said about the shawl when she came in.

I nodded weakly. I hated looking at it already.

I directed Penny in cutting out a muslin for Annette’s gown, and planned the next steps in Madame Pliny’s court gown with Alice. I tasked her with placing the boning in the bodice, and indicated to Emmi that she was allowed to watch Alice finish the innards of the structured bodice as long as she finished sorting all the scrap bins in time. She agreed eagerly.

And I worked on Viola’s day gown, the pink confection I had designed when my only concern was my business and my creations. It was a beautiful piece, but the clean lines and perfect pleating that would have made me happy in the past didn’t affect me now.

Instead, I started working a protection charm into the seams on the bodice and the curved hem of the skirt.

I made quick progress, even with the extra work of charm weaving, and was exhausted and famished by the time our lunch hour arrived. Working curses before the others arrived and then charm casting all morning taxed me more than I had guessed. I practically stumbled into the front room, scrounging for a scrap of croissant from breakfast.

I nearly ran into Theodor.

“I’ve been waiting for you. You need a bell on the door or something.”

I sat down, hard, on the bench in the corner, breathing harder than I should have from surprise alone.

“Are you all right?” Theodor dropped to one knee next to me. “You’re pale—are you ill?”

“No, I’m just—I need to eat,” I stammered. “Casting charms, it takes a physical toll.” I blinked—now I was sweating. How undignified.

“Perfect. I have a picnic in the carriage. I’ll bring something in, and then we can go.”

I pressed my lips together to hold my annoyance in. Theodor couldn’t interrupt our daily schedule whenever he wanted to. It was easy to forget, when we were talking or, I flushed thinking of it, kissing, that he was noble. But this particular entitlement, that I’d drop everything whenever he asked, struck a sour chord in me. “Go? Theodor, I can’t just go off with you—I have work to attend to. All afternoon.”

“Not looking like that, you don’t.” Alice stood in the doorway of the studio, hands on her hips. Any more maternal and she would have started clucking. She shouldn’t have had to watch over me, I reminded myself. She was younger than me, and my employee. But I let her bring me a cup of water anyway.

“Listen to Mama Hen,” Penny added in a shout from the studio. “I’ve never seen you work like this. You can’t keep up.”

“Maybe you should hire a third person,” Alice said, a little too pointedly. “I mean, in addition to Emmi. She’s a help, but—” She cut herself off before she said anything that could hurt feelings or, more likely, call into question my wisdom in hiring an untrained Pellian girl. I wanted to argue, and to chastise her for talking about business in front of a guest, but she was probably right.

“I’ll consider it,” I answered.

“No badgering her now,” Theodor said. I softened a little—he was spoiled, certainly, but he was also sympathetic. “She’s taking a long lunch. Right?”

Penny and Alice agreed amiably enough, and Emmi was staring, mouth open, at Theodor’s house crest and ceremonial sword that marked him as a noble. I groaned. “Make sure you finish the projects written up on the board first,” I reminded them. “Wrap the finished orders. And cut more shifts.” I had to stitch together the princesses’ underthings. I would complete the commission as though it was unrelated to my contract with Pyord—indeed, he had as much as said that the queen’s commission was our bargain and no more. Annette was kind, and the princesses were children. They didn’t deserve to be swept up in Pyord’s schemes, and I could offer a small amount of protection.

“We know,” Alice said, rolling her eyes. “Now scat.”

Practically shoved out the door by my employees and wrapped in my cloak by Theodor, I found myself in the carriage, still faint and sweating and embarrassed, but at least with a pastry in one hand. I glanced outside—no hooded figures or strange men loitering around my door today. Pyord must have given his man the day off.

“You can’t keep doing this,” I protested weakly between bites. What was this pastry made of—the angelic stuff butter became when it died and went to heaven? It melted on my tongue. And the lemon curd filling—I was nearly blinded with citrusy bliss.

“It’s so convincing when you’re almost purring eating that pastry.”

“You know what I mean,” I said, licking my fingers. “Or maybe you don’t. Do you?”

He bit a lip, thinking. “I do interrupt your workday,” he said. “Perhaps I shouldn’t do that?”

His surprise was in earnest, and I bit back some annoyance. Though I was sure he didn’t mean it maliciously, there was an ugly expectation that I was available at his bidding, waiting for him between his obligations. I didn’t have council meetings and formal events on my calendar, but my work was constant, and persistently pressing. “Yes, it is a bit problematic,” I said. “I know you’re very important and assisting in running a country,” I added, burying any bitterness at his assumptions behind a veil of humor, “but I’m quite tied up running a shop and earning enough to eat.”

Theodor’s ears reddened as he realized his mistake. He would not have expected his fellow dukes and counts, or even ladies like Viola, to be free at any hour of the day. Nobles arranged their schedules in advance and sent invitations and messages via their liveried servants. Though I lacked the servants, I still had obligations. “I suppose I owe you an apology.”

I accepted with a gracious nod. “It’s nothing we can’t remedy. Perhaps you could send a note first. If we plan ahead, I can rearrange my work and assign Penny and Alice their tasks, and make sure Emmi has enough to do, and I shan’t get behind.”

“So you’re saying you want to keep seeing me,” Theodor said with a rakish grin. “Brilliant, my persistence is paying off.”

I realized what I’d said—that I wanted to make seeing Theodor a priority. I blushed—very well, then, I did. “Yes, your charisma is quite effective,” I said. I hoped Pyord didn’t have a way to twist my connection with Theodor into his plan, too.

We arrived at the greenhouse, just as I had expected, and Theodor helped me from the carriage. I couldn’t help but enjoy the feel of his hand under my glove, supporting me. Inside, in the center of the garden, a table and two chairs had been placed by the little fountain.

He held the chair for me, and I smoothed a freshly ironed napkin on my lap. Theodor poured two glasses of pink wine, and lifted his glass. I raised my glass to his. The crystal made a satisfying clink. “What’s the celebration? The Red Caps have surrendered all their pamphlets and pitchforks?”

“Hardly,” Theodor said. “If this threat were coming from a foreign nation, we would have at least attempted negotiations long ago. But with our people? The council is apparently at a loss.”

I stared at the bubbles rising in my glass. The pink beverage looked far more optimistic than I felt. “Maybe they don’t want to seem weak.”

“They’re going to seem much weaker when they can’t put down a rebellion,” Theodor replied.

“You—you don’t think they can subdue the Red Caps?”

“I don’t mean it to sound so dramatic. They will, even if it’s allowed to continue on the course it’s set on now. And that course will likely be bloody and undermine our authority with the people even as we try to shore it up. Certainly, it will hurt the trust other nations have in us. The delegation from East Serafe will leave, with no marriage contract for Annette, if the revolutionaries gain too much ground.”

I smiled. “Annette might not mind.”

“Perhaps not,” Theodor answered, “but we need the Serafan trade routes to stay open to us.”

“Most of my best silks are Serafan,” I agreed. The Galatine mills didn’t produce fabric half as fine, and the dye colors weren’t as brilliant. In fact, I rarely worked with domestic silks at all. Or wools—the sheep of Kvys were legendary for their wool. Or cotton, which was grown in the Equatorial States and milled most finely in Fen. I considered the wide web of agriculture, production, and trade that existed in each of my garments. A disruption to international trade would create a disruption even in my little shop.

“And the Allied Equatorial States—they are our closest military allies. Yet they wouldn’t hesitate to cease supporting us if they thought our kingdom was a dying one.”

“I’m not entirely sure that the Red Caps have considered foreign policy in their plans.”

“If their pamphlets are any indication, they have no interest in the potential side effects their chaos could sow. They do seem quite aware of the potential alliances they could broker, however. At least, their leadership does.”

“Alliances?” With trade goods, I had a passable enough understanding to add to the conversation. With political intrigue, I was entirely unschooled. I was glad Viola and the others from the salon weren’t here to witness my confusion. “It’s only—who would want to ally themselves with an illegitimate government?”

The question seemed to impress Theodor; he nodded thoughtfully. “No legitimate government would, at least not openly. But Kvyset in particular has been … obdurate about our border agreements for decades. Not to mention, they’ve been squabbling with the Allied States about certain holdings in the Orian Sea. If it came to open war, we would almost certainly support the States.”

“Because they’re our closest military allies,” I supplied, as though in a schoolroom recitation.

“Precisely. Kvys don’t see our current regime as favorable to their needs. If they provide tacit support to an uprising, and that uprising in turn becomes the new government—”

“I see.” My fingers traced the fine linen hem of the tablecloth, as though counting stitches could help me understand the depths the Red Caps and, I was sure, Pyord had plumbed in planning their revolt. Kristos had said that Pyord was integral to their organization; I was beginning to see how Pyord was the difference between riot and revolution.

“What kind of support?” I asked.

“Nothing proven yet. There has been some suspicious activity at the border, which General Drake reported as potential arms shipments, and some troop movement.” Theodor hesitated. “Not from the Kvys government itself—the patrician families control units, mostly cavalry, raised from their lands, and professional soldiers for hire are legal in Kvyset. Still, it could indicate plans by some patrician families or even independent mercenaries to provide actual military support in case of a successful coup. That, in turn, indicates a view for a full-fledged revolution—a civil war.”

“They’ve organized all of this,” I sighed. “All in such a short amount of time.”

Theodor raised an eyebrow. “Short?”

“They weren’t this organized six months ago. Believe me—I would know.” I recalled with a bitter nostalgia the late nights at the taverns, the first pamphlets passed from League household to League household. When words alone were the currency of the movement, potent in possibility but powerless to inflict destruction on their own.

“Interesting,” Theodor said. “I had always wondered—it seemed as though we must have been missing something, some undercurrent building that we hadn’t seen. Perhaps we hadn’t missed anything but the turning point.”

I nodded, knowing I could say more, could give a name. Pyord Venko. It hung from my fingertips like a man on the gallows, but I couldn’t say it. If word reached him before he was arrested, if he knew I had betrayed him, he’d surely kill my brother. The more I considered it, the more likely it seemed that he would have mechanisms in place for others to carry out such retributions in his absence. I shivered.

“I’m sorry—this is unpleasant talk,” Theodor said, clearly mistaking the source of my revulsion. I wasn’t an innocent girl being given an upsetting primer lesson; I knew more about the ugly storm that was coming than Theodor did.

Still, I mustered a smile and agreed. “And this all looks delightful,” I added, gesturing to the untouched lunch in front of us.

He speared a withered mushroom and devoured it. “My cook may actually be a sorceress—dried fungus never tasted so good.”

I laughed. “I never did care for them,” I admitted.

“Well, this might change your mind.” He shoveled a few onto my plate. “Delectable.”

“Better fresh?” I asked as I tasted one, holding back a grimace.

“No idea. Those are imported from Kvyset.”

I almost choked—dried mushrooms, imported across the mountains or through the fjords? “Don’t we have mushrooms here?”

“Well, yes, but not speckled brown caps—oh.” He set his fork down. “I suppose it all seems a bit extravagant?”

“A bit,” I said. I stared at the mushrooms, wondering if I should leave such luxury alone or force them down so as not to be wasteful.

Theodor sighed, a furrow forming between his eyes. “I think I understand my country, and then a moment later I’m proven a fool.”

“Not a fool,” I answered, too quickly.

“Yes, a fool.” He pushed his plate away. “But if I’m a fool, at least I know it.”

“You’ve been raised in one world, I in another, and we are both blind to what it didn’t show us,” I answered, thinking of Kristos. How often his impassioned speeches turned toward lambasting the nobility, never considering the particular hardships their station forced on them. Never considering, certainly, the delicate balance of international politics and trade. We were all half-blind, yet so sure we saw the truth.

“You show me,” he said softly. “You do—don’t argue with me; it’s true. The common people were just—this sounds terrible, but it’s true—faceless before I met you. That they existed but they weren’t”—he winced—“really people.”

I was about to snap off an indignant retort, but I realized I was no better. The nobility were names on my account book, their affiliation was a goal to achieve, but I hadn’t ever known one personally. Even my business affiliation kept me from desiring open butchery like Pyord, but it took the past weeks in Viola’s salon and Theodor’s greenhouse to have any sympathy for them.

Instead, I clasped his hand in mine. “I understand.”

He squeezed my fingers until they hurt. “My father wants me to go to the Allied States around Midwinter.”

I knew what that meant, and my chest felt hollow. Still, I forced a smile. “Perfect timing. The dead of winter here, but still summer there, no?”

“You reminded me that winter has its benefits.”

I drew my hand back. “You’re not considering refusing your father, are you?”

He straightened his shoulders. “Yes, I am. I don’t have to arrange this contract now. The country is in the midst of unrest—perhaps it should wait.”

I swallowed. “Perhaps you have to go now, before the Allied States grow concerned that we are a weak country,” I said. “Perhaps you need to secure a marriage contract before the Red Caps do anything more drastic than printing pamphlets and protesting.” My voice sounded flat and dead, and the reality of what I was saying washed over me. It felt like grief.

“Quick learner.” He traced the edge of his wineglass. “I’ll have to have you appointed to my advisory cabinet when I’m Prince of Westland.”

When he was prince. Someday in the future, he would be Prince of Westland, and I would still be Sophie Balstrade, the seamstress. He would be married and have little duke and duchess children by his wife. Why did that make me cold with anger?

“Don’t,” I said.

“You’re right, the ones I have to keep on the cabinet all starch their neckerchiefs too much, they’re quite unbearable—”

“Don’t!” I stood in a rush, knocking my rickety chair over with my skirts. “Don’t joke about it. It isn’t funny, and it won’t ever be funny.” Blood rushed into my cheeks and tears stung my eyes. “I should never have agreed—should never have come—” The words choked me.

Theodor stood and reached a hand out toward me, but I recoiled. “I have to leave,” I finally said. I rushed out of the greenhouse before he could answer.