Dragonskin Slippers (17 page)

I felt the blood drain from my face. Larkin, of anyone in the King’s Seat, was the last person I would have wanted to see Shardas. With a sudden shiver I thought about the half-open shutter and the fleeting movement I had seen beyond it on the night he had visited. Had Larkin spied on us?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, keeping my voice steady with an effort.

“Princess Amalia was very curious about the dragon as well as the slippers.”

“How did she know –” I stopped myself just in time and forced a disingenuous expression on to my face. “Why would she ask about dragons?”

“Because I told her that I had seen you talking with one,” Larkin said, her expression perfectly complacent. She looked as if we might be discussing embroidery, or what to eat for breakfast, and not the possibility that a dragon had called on me. “Her Highness is very interested in dragons.” She looked down at my tablet. “As I see you are, too, whether or not you admit it.”

I was saved by Derda, who came out of the back room to complain that I was lingering over my personal work when I should be working for her. I gathered up my tablets and slipped past Larkin. Taking my seat beside Marta in the back room, I set the tablets under my stool, covering them with the sweeping skirts of my shopgown. Marta raised her eyebrows, but I just shook my head, mindful of Derda’s eyes on me.

When Larkin limped into the room a minute later, my hands were full of cool, slippery silk and I was hard at work. But inside my bodice my heart was hammering, and beneath my skirts my knees trembled. Larkin had seen Shardas!

When one of the maids came to announce that there was a caller in the shop for me, I almost stabbed myself in the palm with my needle. So preoccupied with Shardas was I, that for a moment I imagined Shardas crouching in the pink-draped shop, being offered tea and cakes by another maid.

“Prince Luka?” The girl looked at me like I was daft. “The second son? Of the king? He is here to speak with you.”

“Luka?” I cleared Shardas from my head. “Oh, yes, I’m coming.” I put down my work and got to my feet. Before I could step out of the back room, however, Marta caught my arm.

“Are you mad? I don’t care that you call him Luka, and that he buys you silly books! He’s still a prince, you goose!”

And once more Marta straightened my gown, tidied my hair, and replaced my apron with a scarlet sash. “Much better!” she declared.

“Luka?”

The maid who had led me out to meet him gasped at my familiarity. I thought she was going to stand there and stare at us the whole time, but Luka and I both looked at her until she realised that she was gawking and scurried back into the kitchen.

Luka grinned, his hands in the pockets of his long coat. “Hello, Creel. I just came to see how –” His gaze sharpened. “Are you all right? You look tired. Here, sit down.”

I sank into one of the overstuffed chairs. For a moment, I imagined falling asleep, and wondered what Derda would do if she came out and saw me snoring in one of her “patron chairs”, a bemused prince sitting across from me.

“What’s happened to you?” Luka studied my face, looking anxious. “You seemed happy the other day, shopping. Has something happened since then?”

“Princess Amalia stole my slippers.” I didn’t see any need to sugarcoat the truth. Luka knew me, and he knew Amalia. “She convinced Larkin, who works in the back room, to bring them to her. In the night. She took them.” Really, I hadn’t noticed how tired I was until I sat down. I sat as straight as I could, keeping my back well away from the soft cushions behind me.

“Amalia had your shoes stolen?” Luka looked
astonished, then perplexed. “She has hundreds of shoes! Why would she steal yours?”

“You know, they were unusual, she wanted them.” I waved my hand vaguely.

“I’ll make certain that she pays you for them, if I can’t get them back from her.” His face clouded, and he lowered his voice. “In the meantime, do you have shoes? Other shoes? I know that a lot of people of your station have only one pair …”

“Oh, Luka!” I let out a tired laugh. “You are very sweet. Especially for a prince. Derda made me go and buy another pair that morning. She made Larkin pay, but only half the price.” I lifted my skirts and waggled my plain (but admittedly good-quality) slippers at him. “Because Amalia sort of paid me for my slippers.”

“She ‘sort of’ paid you?”

“She had Larkin bring me an incredibly ugly gown of hers as payment. So now I’m going to the Merchants’ Ball. Which I hadn’t planned on attending. And which I definitely cannot attend wearing a gown that ugly. Not if I want to find someone to invest in my dress shop.”

Luka looked even more confused. “So, you
are
going to the ball?”

“Yes. Now.” I glanced over my shoulder to make sure that Derda wasn’t hovering in the doorway, eavesdropping. There was no sign of her, but I lowered my voice all the same. “I don’t think I’m cut out for working for someone like Derda. I think I’ll be a lot happier
knowing that someone else isn’t taking the credit – and the money – for my work.”

He grimaced. “Well, I’m afraid that it
is
standard practice. When an apprentice creates something the credit is always given to their master, because the master taught them to begin with.”

“But Derda didn’t teach me to sew, my mother did!”

“I suppose that’s true –” He hesitated. “I’m sorry, but there’s really nothing I can do about that. But I
can
get your shoes back.”

“You can?” I clutched at my pink skirts.

“Look, the situation with Roulain is a bit dodgy, there’s no denying it. We need this marriage, and we need it badly. But if Amalia is going to be our future queen –” he made a face – “she really must learn to respect our people. I’ll see to it that you get your slippers back.”

A wave of relief washed over me. “Thank you, Luka! I’m sorry I was so angry about … things.”

“I quite understand.”

“I’ll go and fetch her horrible gown.” I hopped to my feet. “I’m afraid that I’ve ripped most of the ornamentation off it, but she can have it remade. Or burned, I don’t care.”

“No, no.” Luka shook his head as he also stood. “You keep it. Make it over and wear it to the ball.” He lowered his voice. “You’re talented. You can find an investor and open your own shop. Leave Derda and get the credit you deserve for your designs.”

I heard a noise and looked over my shoulder to see Marta coming out of the back room. She was carrying a magnificent gown, another of the duchess’s, held carefully across her arms. Alle was holding the door wide open for her.

“You remember Marta, don’t you?” I asked.

“Yes, yes, of course.” Luka smiled at her. “How are you?”

“Very well, Prince Luka.”

“That’s a nice gown,” he said, nodding at it.

“Thank you,” Marta and I said at the same time.

Luka laughed. “I take it you both worked on it?”

“Yes, for the Duchess of Mordrel,” I said, fingering the green wool. Marta had done the sewing, but I had subtly embroidered the sleeves and hem in a slightly darker green. “It’s for the royal wedding.”

“Oh.” Luka’s face tightened.

“So,” Marta said when she had laid the gown carefully on the counter, prior to wrapping it for delivery. “Did you tell His Highness about your slippers?”

“Yes.” I clapped my hands in delight. “He’s going to try to get them back.”

“That should be easy enough. Just send
him
to collect them.” She jerked a thumb at Tobin.

Tobin raised one sardonic eyebrow, his arms folded. He grinned at Marta.

“You don’t scare me,” she said, raising her chin. “But I can imagine that a Moralienin the size of an ox would strike a little fear in the heart of that uppity princess.”

“What’s a Moralien-in?” I hadn’t thought that Marta had ever noticed Tobin, and now she was looking at him rather …
admiringly
.

“Moralien is a large group of islands in the Ice Sea,” Marta lectured me. “It’s ruled by a Council of Elders.”

I gave Marta a speculative look, and she blushed. Interesting. Tobin grinned at me, but then ducked his head in an almost shy gesture at Marta. Very interesting.

“We’d best be going,” Prince Luka said. “I need to see about getting your slippers back. And I have some other duties to attend to. I just wanted to come and see if you were well, and ask if I could meet you on your next day off.”

“We’re not really supposed to have young men calling on us,” I told him.

“Another reason for us to have our own shop,” Marta piped up.

Luka frowned questioningly.

“Marta is going to come with me, and be my partner,” I explained.

“Capital idea,” he agreed.

“But I wouldn’t worry about
your
young man, Creel,” Marta went on. “I believe that Derda has decided to make an exception in the case of
Prince
Luka here.”

I blushed even harder. “Well, er, if you really must be going,” I said to Luka.

He, too, was looking a bit red in the face. “Er, yes, we really must. Come along, Tobin.” And they beat a hasty retreat.

“Marta!” I turned on her as soon as the door closed behind the pair.

She gave me an innocent look. “Yes, Creel?”

“When you’re my employee, I expect –”

“Ah, ah!
Partners
can say what they like,” she teased, and then we raced into the back room.

The next day a wooden box arrived for me, delivered by a footman from the palace. He placed it reverently into my hands, ignoring the curious looks of Alle, who had answered the knock on the shop door, and Derda, who had accompanied me. Then he bowed, as though I were a great lady, and left.

At Alle’s urging, I set the box down on the long counter and opened it. Inside, on a velvet cushion, was a necklace of freshwater pearls. No,
three
necklaces of freshwater pearls. They had been twisted together in the classic fashion, and were held by a jasper clasp. One strand was faintly golden, another almost blue, and the third blush-coloured.

“There’s a note!” Alle was jumping up and down with excitement. “Read the note!”

I picked up the square of heavy linen paper and unfolded it. It was from Prince Luka. I had suspected as
much, but it was strangely thrilling to see his small, neat handwriting.

Dear Creel:

The slippers are giving me more trouble than I would have guessed. Sorry. I thought these might look good with your gown, though. Best of luck, if I don’t see you before the ball
.

Luka

“What is this?” Derda’s voice was sharp in my ear. She hadn’t even pretended not to read over my shoulder. “You didn’t tell the prince about your slippers, did you?”

“Of course I did,” I retorted. “Luka is my friend, and he asked me why I was upset.”

“By the Boiling Sea!” Derda hissed, grabbing my elbow and giving me a little shake. “Don’t stir up trouble where there’s already trouble in the works! That princess is spoiling for a reason to break off the betrothal, and if this sets her off, there could be war!”

“What?” I gaped at her.

“Don’t pretend to be stupid. If I’d thought you were a fool I never would have hired you. What did you think when you heard of the curfew, and the stories of attacks on Roulaini in the streets? If the younger son takes sides against the Roulaini just because he likes your eyes, the Triunity alone knows what could happen!”

“Should I give the necklace back?” I longed to keep it, but if what Derda said was true maybe it would be better if I didn’t.

“No, don’t offend him. Just stop maundering on about those thrice be-damned slippers!”

“Yes, Derda.” I bowed my head meekly.

“Now, put your pretty gift away and get to work! It’s not the ball yet, and you still work for me!”

I took the box upstairs and hid it under my pillow, thinking that if Larkin laid a finger on it, I would be forced to throttle her. I didn’t think even Derda would hold it against me if that were to happen.

While we sewed that day, the other girls talked nonstop about the necklace. None of them, it seemed, had ever received such an expensive gift. And they certainly had never got a present from a member of the royal family!

“That’s not true,” I pointed out, when Alle said this. “You and Marta both got books from Prince Luka the other day when we met him and Prince Miles shopping.”

“Oh, books are all very well,” Marta said, giving me a sly look. “But I think I would much rather have a triple strand of pearls. To honour the Triune Gods, of course,” she said piously.

The others burst into laughter, while I turned red and hot and applied myself studiously to my work. This dress would have long spears of gladiolus, much like my old handkerchief, running up the skirt.

“Oh, so modest, are we?” Alle waited until Derda
had gone into the shop to retrieve something, then threw a spool of thread at me. “It’s no wonder dear Prince Luka fancies you.”

My face went even redder and hotter, if that were possible. Then Larkin spoke, and my blood turned to ice in my veins.

“Perhaps Creel is simply disappointed,” she said in a sly voice.

“Disappointed?” Alle stared at her. “Are you mad?”

Larkin smiled. “Disappointed because she wishes it were coloured glass, and not pearls,” she said without looking up.

“What did you say?” It was hard to force the words through my numb lips.

“What are you talking about, Larkin?” Marta put down her work. “Why would Creel want fake jewels?”

“Not fake jewels. Stained-glass windows, like the patterns she embroiders,” Larkin clarified in her mild voice. “The most beautiful windows to have ever graced chapel or palace, gathered together into one magnificent
hoard
.” She put heavy emphasis on the last word.

“
Have
you run mad?” Marta stared at Larkin, not understanding what the other girl was saying. Alle was also staring, mouth open in silent confusion.

“How could you know?” It was all I could say. I was still so very cold, my hands wrapped in the silk of the skirt I was embroidering, crumpling the costly fabric. “How could you know?”