Page 4 of A Filling of Fables and Firelight

“What does that look like?”

“Aside from arranging for the challenges themselves, it means preparing rooms for your guests and ensuring you have enough staff on hand to see to their needs.”

Kamaran nodded slowly. “I’ll have Samira see to it that additional handmaids are available.”

The vizier chuckled. “As the father of three daughters, I also suggest having at least one seamstress on hand at all times.”

His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You really anticipate there will be that high of a demand for emergency sewing?”

“The wardrobe necessities of a woman are—like her mind—unfathomable.” Zamar shook his head slowly, as if recalling a traumatizing incident. “What I do understand is that I don’t understand what is necessary to make them look their best, only that eight times out of ten, a seamstress is involved. Have at least one standing by, if not two.”

Kamaran smirked as a smug, petty idea took root in his mind. “I don’t know about a seamstress, but I do know where to find a tailor.”

Chapter Three

RANA

“Excuse me, sir, but I need that.”

The oversized ears of the fennec fox curled up on the pile of fabric twitched as Zade lifted his head and blinked innocently.

“Move.” Rana sank down onto the low sofa beside him and poked him with a finger.

He yawned, showing off the tiny, needle-sharp teeth in his adorable, pointed snout, and slowly rose to his feet. He stretched, then wandered four steps to the side where he plopped back down on the sofa cushion with an offended huff.

“Yes, well, not all of my fabric and yarn is put here for your enjoyment, Your Highness.” Rana lightly booped his nose, a gesture that he accepted with a slow, long-suffering blink. “Some of us work for a living.”

“Perhaps if you found a nice man to talk to instead of a furry creature, you wouldn’t be working at all hours of the day.” Rana’s grandmother, Teta, lifted a pointed eyebrow as she entered the sitting room and placed a tray with a steaming pot of tea and delicate, hand-painted teacups on the low table in front of the sofa. A plate of treats accompanied it, and Rana’s mouth immediately started watering at the sight of the small, jewel-toned squares of candy.

“Perhaps if I found a man as easy to talk to as a furry creature, I would consider it,” she countered as she picked up a bundle of emerald green silk. Intricate patterns of gold thread swirled over a portion of the fabric, with her current area of focus stretched taught over an embroidery hoop and practically begging to be adorned. “Besides, this isn’t work work. This is purely for my own enjoyment.”

Teta shook her head. “I worry about you, child.”

Rana reached over and popped a piece of Adhavian Delight in her mouth, relishing the sweet, slightly floral taste as she pulled a new length of gold thread through her needle. She considered the pattern on her fabric with a critical eye before pushing the needle through. “Why is that?”

“You sit in that shop and sew all day, then come home and do more of the same. You need to get out more.”

“For the record, I’m not sewing right now. I’m embroidering.”

“Rana.”

“Teta.” She lifted a brow in challenge. They had performed some variation of the same conversation enough times that Rana knew how it would end:

She would promise to think about finding opportunities to experience the world outside the tiny sphere of home and work, and her grandmother would let the matter drop with a grumble about never seeing any great-grandchildren.

Teta capitulated early, leaning back in her rocking chair with a sigh. “What are you working on this time?”

“A dress.” Rana lifted the embroidery hoop high enough to allow the skirt to fall in a cascade of silk.

Her grandmother leaned forward and fingered the fabric appreciatively. “It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it? Khalil—one of the merchants that Dan works with—was able to get it at a great deal, and as soon as I saw it, I knew it needed to be a dress.” She sighed happily as she reached for another square of candy.

“It will be fit for a princess,” Teta agreed before adding hopefully, “What’s the occasion?”

“The occasion is that I wanted to wear a beautiful dress.” She gathered the fabric back onto her lap and resumed stitching. “There doesn’t have to be a reason.”

“So this isn’t your way of telling me that you’ve submitted your name to the Queen’s Contest?”