Page 25 of Heart of the Raven Prince

“I don’t remember telling you to bring back silk and a stranger,” a woman says as she walks out of a doorway, holding a bundle of bright red tulle. Her words may sound cruel, but her kind face lets me know she’s joking as she walks up to us. Her dark black eyes and pointed ears set me instantly on edge, however.

“Gia, this is Aoife, a new seamstress,” Siobhán says. Gia sets the pile of tulle down and before I know what is happening, she is pulling me into a firm hug.

“I am sorry for the sorrows that led you here,” she whispers against my ear, her voice full of a quiet ache. She gives me one last tight squeeze, before pulling me back and holding my shoulders. A gentle smile caresses her features, and I find myself realizing she is beautiful. Not in any way I’ve encountered in mortal women, but in the ethereal beauty of a waterfall cast under the white light of a full moon. It is a wild, natural beauty. Her hair is a pale pastel blue set off against her near snow-white complexion. I do not feel any prickling magic coming off her, but neither that nor her seemingly kind nature makes me lower my guard.

“Come, Aoife, let’s get you settled. Now, tell me, where does your expertise lie in sewing? Are you as skilled with embroidery as Siobhán, or are you better suited for garment construction?” Gia asks, apparently unbothered by my cold reception. That’s when I falter, trying to keep my expression neutral.

“Er…” I say awkwardly, looking around like I will find the answer hiding in the middle of this shop. The truth of the matter is I am woefully bad when it comes to any skill with a needle. My mother tried her best to teach me to sew, but after several disastrous attempts she eventually gave up altogether.

“Construction, Gia. She can help me with the gown I’m working on,” Siobhán cuts in when she sees me floundering.

Gia crosses her arms, giving Siobhán a pointed look as she drops her voice low and says, “You know she’ll have to be able to perform when you are not in the room, right?” I frown, confused. It’s almost like the fae knows Siobhán is lying and instead of punishing her she’s…pointing out the flaw in the plan. Siobhán merely nods, swallowing hard. Gia sighs, waving her off as she says, “Alright, as long as you know what you’re doing.”

Siobhán gives her a gentle smile, as she grabs my hand again and tugs me after her into another side room. In the center of the room are several dress forms with garments in varying states of completion hung over them. Siobhán leads us to the dress form farthest from the door, and finally sets down the bolt of silk. She steps close, her whisper barely audible as she asks, “Alright, how bad are you at sewing?”

I grimace, her face paling further when I say, “Bad.”

“Oh, you really weren’t kidding,” Siobhán says, stifling a laugh beside me as I work on the piece of scrap material she gave me. My hands are hidden under the length of black silk she is fitting to the dress form. With our position off to the side of the room, anyone who glanced at me would assume I was working on the hem.

“I know,” I say, frowning down at the haphazard row of stitches. She showed me a few simple stitches and has been instructing me in practicing them. Yet, try as I might, I can’t get my lines to be as rigidly straight as hers. I’m more apt to end up with the thread hopelessly tangled and knotted.

“You’ll want to take some items back with you to the Barracks tonight. You’re going to need as much practice as you can get,” Siobhán says, her words muffled by the needles held between her teeth as she continues to arrange and drape the fabric, pinning it only when she’s satisfied with the look of it. I open my mouth to respond when I feel it.

Magic prickles over my skin, unrelenting and smothering. Drawing in a sharp breath, I whip my head up and train my eyes on the open doorway. Moments later, I am stifling a growl of indignation when the general steps into our room. For once, however, his hateful black gaze does not land on me. Instead, he’s only interested in the woman stitching the hem of a man’s jacket on the dress form closest to the door.

I noticed her shortly after Siobhán hid me behind the dress form and tried pointlessly to teach me to sew. I get the sense this woman has been here for some time, based on the way she seems to know almost everyone that pops in and out. Her bright copper hair is a mess of ringlets, pulled as tightly back from her ears as she can manage, her sultry brown eyes narrowed in focus on the jacket. Then the general clears his throat, and her head snaps up instantly when he says, “Yasminda, you are needed.”

Her breath catches, a look of fear crossing her face.

No, wait…she’s not scared. She’s concerned.

She swallows and whispers, “How bad is it this time?”

“Not good.” His face is grim, his voice rigid and icy. “You won’t be returning tonight.” The woman, Yasminda, nods before stabbing her needle into the dress form and standing. That’s when I see it. The charm on her ear does not have a needle and thread hanging off it. Instead, there is a single ruby droplet. The general glances our way, and again he does not seem to notice me stuffed behind the dress form. Instead he flicks his dark gaze up and down Siobhán, who is pointedly ignoring him. It happens so quickly I think perhaps I imagined it, and before I can study it further the general and Yasminda are leaving.

“Have you noticed the charm in her ear?” I ask when I am sure they are well and truly gone from the shop. Siobhán quirks a brow at me, and I nod at the spot the woman had just occupied. Understanding dawns on her.

“Ah. Yes. The mark of a Vessel.”

“Vessel?”

“The humans they feed from. She was the one to explain the marks to me,” she says, tapping the needle and thread charm on her ear. “I was mortified when she told me what hers meant.”

“Was?” I ask. There is nothing in this whole cursed realm that could ever change my mind about something as monstrous as the fae feeding from us. Siobhán shrugs.

“I suppose I still am. Mortified, that is. This place has a strange way of numbing you. A way of forcing you to accept things you swore you never would. When your whole existence is a nightmare, the abhorrent becomes mundane surprisingly quick.”

“I don’t think I can ever become accustomed to this world,” I say between clenched teeth. Siobhán snorts.

“That’s how I felt,” she mutters. “But she also says being a Vessel is different from what you think. She has privileges and protections we do not. She’s able to roam the city streets freely.”

“Do you know her?” I ask, trying to keep the shaking from my voice. I’m so gods-damned angry, I can’t see the needle and thread in front of me. I can’t imagine the type of world this is, a place so heinous that becoming a food source for the elite that rule can be seen as a good thing.

“Yasminda? Oh yes, but only just,” Siobhán says. “She’s been kind to me since we arrived, helping me through those first few weeks. She and Gia both did. I’m not sure I would have survived if it weren’t for Gia.”

“Siobhán, no,” I say sharply, reaching out and gripping her skirt to get her attention. “You cannot trust the fae. None of them. If they are kind, it is a trick. If they are warm, it is a lie. They are monsters, don’t forget that just because they parade behind a mask of empathy.”

Siobhán studies me for a long moment, before whispering, “I’m not sure it’s worth existing if I live in a world where I can’t believe that kindness exists.” She gives me a sad sort of smile and pulls out of my grip before returning to the skirt.