A woman with lilac curls and an ample chest bounced up to me and smiled. “A new face. Welcome to my shop. I’m Willow.” She leaned closer. “What unique eyes you have.”
All the better to see you with,the line from Red Riding Hood completed in my thoughts. I suddenly didn’t feel quite as confident.
As if noticing my discomfort, she looked past me and raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were Angela’s suitor.”
Rowan coughed. “I am. An escort job for Commander Ezra.”
Willow's new smile didn’t reach her eyes. “How unique. I’ll make sure Angela knows.”
I grimaced on behalf of my friend, who only nodded.
Willow turned her attention back to me. “And you are?”
“Quinn, Quinn Question,” I answered with a little awkward wave.
Willow’s jaw dropped. “Quinn Question, oh my. In my boutique?”
I blinked at her. Did she remember me from when I’d been under her table? Had she put me under her table? “Um, yup. Do we know each other?”
Willow’s hands floated as if she couldn’t wait to take my measurements. “Oh, no. You are…” She bit her lips together and hummed. “You must know everyone’s talking about you.”
“They are?” I said stupidly. “Who’s everyone?”
“Literally everyone.” Willow beamed. “I worked with the Grierson’s team to make that dress for you on such short notice. It was bold of you to come out with no family support. Where are you from again?”
My brain couldn’t keep up with all of Willow’s chatter. I hadn’t realized the lengths Everly had gone to have my dress made. Or that anyone outside of the Architect’s family would be talking about me. I blinked stupidly as once again, the little world Miss Q created for me expanded.
“I seem to have overwhelmed you,” Willow said into my silence. “I guess where you're from doesn’t have a simple answer.”
“Ah, yeah, you’ve got that correct.” I smiled. “You have a lovely shop.”
“Oh, thank you.” Willow beamed again and gestured around. “I’d be honored to have you in any of my dresses.”
“Really?” I asked.
Willow reached out and put a hand on my elbow. “Are they treating you well in that castle?”
“We’re here for a reason,” Rowan smoothly cut in. “Not to feed the rumor mill.”
“Quite right.” Willow’s smile didn’t falter. “A dress for the Mixer, then. You’re short, but I can hem anything, or if you give me some parameters, I can design a gown.”
“I don’t know what The Mixer is.” I batted my eyelashes, and Willow’s smile finally faltered. “Actually, I’m hoping to sell a few things.”
Willow ran her fingers down her cheek, recovering her retail poise. “Oh, I guess I can take a look.”
The three of us followed her to the back of the tent. Floating dresses partly hid a long table. I wondered if this was where Rowan found me. Cayden came up on my side and squeezed my elbow, distracting me before I could relive my fall.
Willow studied Cayden for a moment before she arched an elegant eyebrow. “You must be Cayden Lawson.”
Cayden inclined his head before making small talk with Willow. He was good at it, too, unlike my stuttering answers and awkward pauses. In my defense, pretty much everything Willow said surprised me.
It took me a few tries to get exactly what I wanted out of my pocket-void, but soon enough, I had four pieces arranged on the table.
“I'm hoping to get enough from these, but I have a few more, too.” I patted my hip as if the items came out of my real pocket.
“We can always come back if the situation changes.” Cayden ducked his head. “Quinn’s not a prisoner, right, Rowan?”
Rowan narrowed his eyes. “Quinn’s not, but with no family, an escort is essential, as Willow understands.”
