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After the sewing she'd done during the trip, making something without magic in it felt strange. Stranger, in a way, was holding the garment after Gaius had cut it. It was her duty to put it back together, like the pieces left of her shattered life. Work gave her a sense of serenity she hadn't known during the trip back to Danesse. She never pricked herself once as she turned the trimmed edges of the shell and lining to the inside, pinning and repinning sections until it was perfectly even.
The needle and thread glided easily through the fabric. Without the tingle of magic in her fingertips, she could work for longer periods and do finer work. Her magic might have been what appealed to most clients, but the quality of her craft in which she took pride. She closed the whole bottom with tiny hidden stitches, then added a tidy line of top stitching along the edge to hold everything in place.
Ina appeared when the bodice was nearly finished, carrying a tray of food and a pitcher of warm cider. A tiny basket hung on her arm. “It's hard to fix food in proper amounts for just the few of us, but Cook will see to it, don't you worry. Supper will just be a bit late.”
The food on the tray was more of what she'd had at noon; buttered bread and a selection of cheeses and preserved fruit. Thea didn't mind at all. It was far better than dry travel rations. “Thank you, this will be fine. What's that on your arm, though? It looks like a sewing basket. Are you going to join me?”
“Oh, no, milady Thea.” Instead of the maid using one or the other, the two had somehow blended together. Thea decided she didn't mind that, either. Perhaps it was hard for her to imagine the Third Prince would host a common Threadmancer. “I'm all right with a needle, but I fetched this from the market for you.”
Thea knotted off the last of her thread and lowered the bodice to her lap as Ina brought the basket near. Inside lay an assortment of thick crewel threads in at least a dozen colors.
She touched a hand to her chest. “Oh, Ina, these are beautiful.”
“I know that shiny cotton stuff is more popular in Kentoria, but wool is Ranorsh, through and through. I thought you might like to give it a try.” The maid deposited the basket in Thea's hands, then drew back. “I'm off to help Cook now, but you let me know if you need anything, and I'll do my best to see it done.”
Thea scarcely got out a thank you before the woman disappeared. She touched the threads in the basket, marveled at their softness, then retrieved a needle large enough to accommodate them.
She worked embroidery until her fingertips grew sore, before and after supper and across the next several days. Maple leaves and the colorful flowers that once grew in her mother's garden bloomed across the bodice until they disguised the bottom edge.
After that came the skirt. She gathered it to a new waistband, then it, too, received leaves and flowers blooming all along the hem.
By the end of the week, when a messenger came, the dress was good as new, but two parts instead of one. She wondered at that briefly as she descended the stairs to hear what the messenger had to say.
“His Highness, Prince Rilion sends his regards,” the messenger said stiffly. He extended a thick paper envelope with both hands. “He also sends information regarding your permanent residency and accommodations. I am to escort you to your new domicile and provide you with the stipend the Third Prince has approved for the establishment of your services. Are you prepared to go?”
“Of course.” Thea took the envelope, her fingers exploring its folded end and the striped cord that held it shut. “Just let me get my coat.”
“I'll fetch it, milady Thea,” Ina called from somewhere in the house. Where the woman went for most of the day, Thea didn't know, but she resurfaced a moment later with the bright-collared Ranorsh coat in her arms. She helped Thea don it, then disappeared again as quickly as she'd emerged.
The messenger opened the door and motioned for her to precede him. “After you, Lady Thea.”
Had they all decided she was some sort of noble? She considered correcting him, then thought better of it. Perhaps it had less to do with her and more to do with Ranorsh culture, something of which she knew little.
He led her through the cobblestone streets at a steady pace, granting her enough time to familiarize herself with the route back to the guest house.
Eventually, they came to a stop before a tall two-story house built of stones within a log frame. Its peaked roof seemed to scrape the pale sky when she tilted her head back to look at it. Drifting snowflakes swirled around it, shadows of silver against the light.
“His Highness did not know the appropriate verbiage to advertise your field and felt you should commission a placard for the front on your own,” the messenger said as he unlocked the door and ushered her inside.
Thea crept in and clasped the envelope to her stomach. The storefront's tall glass windows let in plenty of light, but the interior was dusty and cold. The room hosted nothing but a tall wooden counter. “That will be no problem.” She didn't know what the sign should say, either. Should she advertise her work as a Threadmancer? Or would it be better to keep her head down and focus on ordinary clothing until she understood the regional climate regarding artisan magic?
“Here is your key, and here is the stipend His Highness has promised.” He extended both hands with palms flat, the key on one and a fat sheepskin purse on the other. “Do you wish me to carry a message back to His Highness?”
Thea plucked them from his hands one at a time. “Tell him I said thank you, and I will let him know when I've decided what I must do next.”
“Of course.” He bowed from the shoulders and excused himself from the storefront, shutting the door soundly behind him.
She turned back to the vacant room, key and money in one hand and the envelope in the other.
She should have been happy. This was what she hoped for, the new start she'd needed. Why did it feel so empty?
Slowly, she crossed to the counter and put down everything she held. The contents of the purse were obvious, but she still didn't know what waited in the envelope. She untied the striped cord and shook out the papers it held.
Documents with information on taxes sat on top. She snorted in disgust at the reminder of the problem that had started everything. Below that was a list of merchants selling cloth and other supplies. She paged through those for a moment before something else caught her eye, a small, folded document with colorful borders poking out from the bottom of the stack. She set aside the list and tugged that document free.
The marriage license.
A sharp ache shot through her chest and she squeezed her eyes closed. It made sense for it to be there. She knew why it had to be. But she'd fought hard to keep her thoughts away from her false husband. He'd delivered everything she asked; she had no right to be upset now, as she stood in the middle of the new life he'd presented as a gift. Yet her heart still twisted at the thought of him.
