"You're right," Aragos says flatly. "I don't know her very well."
I don't know many details about how Lyra and Aragos met. Orcs are rare in Starling Vale, and Lyra, like me, keeps some things to herself. We know better than to pry into certain corners of one another's lives.
Lyra throws her head back and laughs.
"Well," she says, "you have a lifetime to figure her out."
"Good luck," Arabella adds with a chuckle.
"But for tonight, my love," Lyra says, "you are not invited."
He gives her a good-natured grunt and stalks away. Lyra leans back to watch him go, a wistful look on her face.
I wish someone would look at me like that.
After a moment, she gives herself a small shake and turns back to us with a huge grin.
"To tonight," she declares, raising her stein.
"To tonight," Arabella and Noemi say together.
I'm the last to join, but I clink my mug against theirs and drain what's left.
Happily ever afters aren't in my future.
But I can pretend they are tonight, right?
4
LISSY
The windows are too bright for a Saturday morning.
I pull the curtains closed and lament the fact that I didn't think to make them out of something like leather to block out the sun. No, instead I had the bright idea of making them out of organza to create a wafty, whimsical look that feels appropriate for an atelier.
But now, with a hangover that pounds in my head like a minotaur trying to escape, I would give anything for the foresight to have made these curtains out of something a bit more substantial to block out the light.
Either that or I need to crawl back to sleep and pray that no one needs a dress alteration at the shop today. I don't have any appointments booked, but someone could still come in on the weekend, and, well, I don't want to let them down, hangover or no.
Maybe I could make those while waiting.
Thinking hurts, but I convince myself that it hurts less than not thinking, and I can use it as an excuse to keep my thoughts off the pounding headache and just do something.
Because I won't be able to make dresses today. And while my fabric costs may go up in the future, wedding dresses made out of leather aren't very popular, so I'm fairly sure I would just be using a textile that would otherwise sit on the shelf for another few years.
Fine, I'll do it.
I go over to my drawers, where I keep all of my materials, and pull them out one by one. If my headache weren't so bad, I could remember which drawer I keep the leather in, but I don't, so I just keep searching.
"Ah! There we are," I exclaim to myself as I pull out the single roll of leather that I keep in stock. It's white leather, finely made and processed, and if I were in a different headspace, I wouldn't want to use it for a set of curtains, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
Speaking of desperate measures, I put the roll on my cutting table, measuring it out. There is just enough for the front window, and I can pretend — for now — that the white leather purchase was specifically for days like this and that I still want it to fit the concept of a bridal shop.
"Ah, Lissy," I murmur, checking the measurements. "You're a genius."
Why, thank you, my reflection in the mirrors would say back to me. Except the headache really puts a damper on my excitement.
Maybe I've just invented something new. Hangover curtains that keep the light from searing into the backs of your eyeballs. Maybe I've found my hit product other than wedding dresses, and I'll be famous the world over for having something different.
