As I came over the hill, Arrow’s mistress echoed his name, and he went running. How like the master of the golden dog who’d birthed him.
Goodbye to you, too, Elfriede. I felt like a nuisance in my own home. Jurij had taken Mother’s place. Mine was practically taken by a dog.
It took me longer than it should have to cross the small distance to the Tailor’s. Weariness invaded my feet as the shop finally came into focus. My palm crushed against the uneven surface of the chisel handle, which showcased an elegant carving of a string of roses through which a series of butterflies fluttered their fair wings. It was one of my father’s better works, from back when he loved woodworking so much he even carved his tool handles. I could probably carve handles. But I wouldn’t forget the thorns on the vines and might include a few butterflies whose wings had ripped as they passed by them.
I stopped and took a closer look at the Tailors’ sign, which Father had carved some years ago. I would have put the image of the thread and needle looping through the letters in the word “Tailor.” I wondered if Alvilda would have a large piece of wood I could use to design my own sign for practice. If not, I could chop some down.
A shiver ran down my spine as the thought of the ax brought up faded memories of Avery from my dream. I’d left her before the dream had finished.
Anyway, signs take time. And you’re out of time, Noll.
The door to the shop opened abruptly, revealing the tired face of Mistress Tailor. Bow scampered out past her feet and jumped up to greet me. I placed the chisel and wood on the ground so I could take her head in my hands and rub her ears.
“You’re late,” said Mistress Tailor, not even bothering to greet me. “Why didn’t—” She glanced around and the corner of her mouth twitched ever so slightly. “Oh. Noll. I thought Jurij might have been coming home. For once.”
“He’s at my place,” I said, although that was probably obvious. “If you’d like, I can tell him—”
She eyed the things I’d left on the ground and waved a hand. “No. Don’t bother. If you’re heading to Alvilda’s, send my husband over. There’s enough work around here for ten.” She turned to Bow. “Come on, do your business. Clothes aren’t going to sew themselves.”
I tucked my tool and wood block into my sash and started down the village path, but as I passed her, Mistress Tailor had one more thing to say. “I wish you the best tomorrow. Whatever ‘the best’ may be.”
I was taken aback. Mistress Tailor, the stout and surly woman of few words, had said what no one else would. And she seemed to honestly mean it.
“Thank you.”
Mistress Tailor practically growled. “All right. No use crying over the broken thread. I’m sure Alvilda will have some nice words for you.” With that, she and Bow went back into the Tailor Shop, and I was left to face the onslaught of people between one end of the village and the other alone.
If I thought I attracted attention before I became the lord’s goddess, for being a rambunctious child or for having no man to call my own, I had no idea of the type of interest I would have to deal with as the day of my supposed Returning approached.
“Blessed be your birthday tomorrow!” An unmasked man next to a stand of produce tilted his hat at me, the grin on his lips a sign he had no idea how his words cut me to the quick.
I mumbled my thanks, spinning to get out of the way of the tanner and his cart of hides, itching to get away from the busy path that led to the center of the village.
“Watch where you’re going, you foolish girl!”
The woman startled me and I nearly fell, flinging my hands out to steady myself. My fingers smacked against a wicker basket, my nails catching in a dark gauze laid over it. The gauze began to shift and I realized with horror what I’d done.
Not a basket. A bassinet.
“I’m so sorry, Ma’am!” I hurried to readjust the gauze, grabbing my finger with the other hand and carefully untangling the jagged nail from the thin material, all while not daring to look down. “Is he all right?”
“Oh. It’s you.” The woman struggled to balance a baby in the crook of her left arm with the handled bassinet slid across her right. The baby sucked its fist and leaned into her shoulder. She had powerfully dark brown eyes slightly covered by a mess of dark brown curls. “I apologize for yelling at you.” The mother bent awkwardly to tighten the gauze over the baby in the bassinet.