TEN
HALFWAY BACK TO my rooms, my head still full of confidential and debated, I ran into Lady Chey.
She was as resplendent as ever in a yellow gown, a fashionable split down the middle of the top layer and an intricately embroidered pattern at the bottom. With a quick curtsy, she said, “Oh, Lady Julianna! I hope you were on your way to the ladies’ solar. We were all gathering for needlework.”
“How kind of you to invite me. But I’m afraid I don’t have anything to work on.” The very last thing I wanted to do was join Chey and all her friends for needlework.
Chey shook her head and tutted. “Don’t be silly. We’ll find something for you.”
Before I could escape, she’d hooked her arm around mine and begun guiding me through the palace. Mirrors flashed in the edges of my vision, lit by sunlight streaming through windows.
Chey was a fountain of chatter as we walked, listing upcoming celebrations and balls she was excited to attend, and what she would wear to each of them. “There are several plays coming to the Saint Shumway Theater. You should try to attend a few.” At last, she paused to breathe. “Here we are.”
We were not far from the Dragon Wing, where the royal apartments were held. I could see nothing of them, however: just a pair of guards and a long, empty hallway beyond.
Chey pulled open the door to the ladies’ solar, revealing a chamber occupied by a dozen women seated in large chairs with sewing baskets beside them. The walls were covered in brocade silk, and hissing gas lamps lit the room with a cheery glow. But at my entrance, every face turned toward me and became cool, guarded.
Second time in one day. My skill at ruining moods was truly incomparable.
Lady Meredith set aside her needlework and rose. “Julianna. Welcome.” Her smile measured equal parts suspicion and genuine pleasure. She smoothed her palms along her sky blue day dress, embroidered with gold filigree around the hems. The gold matched her hair, all coiled braids and artfully arranged tendrils.
I offered a pale curtsy. “Thank you for your invitation, my lady. I’m afraid I haven’t anything to work on, though.”
Chey stepped forward. “I told the duchess we’d find something for her.”
“Of course we will.” Meredith gestured to an empty chair. “Please.”
After Chey and I were both seated, introductions were offered, and a maid had poured everyone glasses of sweet wine, I was given a hand spindle and a cloud of soft lamb’s wool. I left them on my lap, touching the pages of wraith research instead, like reassurance they were still there. I didn’t have time for these ladies.
Meredith adjusted the canvas on her lap and pressed a blue-threaded needle into the work. “Julianna, I think you’ve just come from a meeting with my fiancé’s committee. How interesting. Ladies don’t typically attend those meetings.”
“I think the duchess is not a typical lady,” mused Chey.
“Perhaps.” Meredith didn’t look up from her work. “Julianna, I hope he didn’t pressure you too much to recount your time in the wraithland. You must forgive him. He wants only the best for the Indigo Kingdom.”
Several of the other ladies nodded agreement as they worked on needlepoint and knitting and sewing together embroidered canvases.
Meredith noted my attention on everyone’s projects. “We, too, want what’s best for the kingdom.” She turned her needlepoint to face me, revealing an emerging pattern of house sigils and lines of holy scripture. A silhouette of the Cathedral of the Solemn Hour appeared in the background, in cloud-silver thread. “We make tapestries, shrouds, and other items for chapels all around the kingdom. It’s said that patterns made by innocent hands can soak up wraith, trapping it in the smallest spaces between the fibers.”
“Indeed?” I eyed the spindle in my lap and tried not to think about all the things I’d done; no doubt I didn’t qualify as “innocent.” “Does it work?” I asked.
Meredith smiled sweetly. “What matters is the hope our work brings. Soldiers of West Pass Watch sometimes wear our creations on their backs, or wrap them beneath their uniforms, against their skin like armor. What matters is that the people protecting us feel we’ve given them something in return.”
“I see.” I trailed my fingers along the spindle whorl, feeling the ridges of the wood and the hammered metal spirals twisting around the edge. It had been a decade since I’d held a spindle, and I wasn’t sure I could make my hands remember what to do.
“Don’t you want to spin?” Chey asked.
I clasped my hands and pressed them to my lap, as though hiding a tremble. “I’m afraid the committee meeting took a little more out of me than I’d like to admit.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Chey set her mouth in a frown. “We’ve heard such wonderful things about your spinning.”
Was that true? Could Julianna be known for her spinning? It wasn’t something that had come up in my research of her, though I hadn’t been able to find much on the duchess in the first place.
“I’m sorry to disappoint,” I said at last, setting aside the spindle and wool. “Perhaps I should return to my chambers to rest. I’m sure my companion is wondering what’s become of me.”
“Of course.” Meredith gestured toward the door. “Please accept my best wishes, and again I apologize for my fiancé. He simply does what he thinks is necessary for the good of the kingdom.”
And now that she’d told me twice, I was certain to remember.
I curtsied and said my farewells before gathering my papers and hurrying out the door.