The driver pays me no mind at all. It's a better reception than before. I enter the shop. There are no men anywhere in sight. Not a warlock, not another tarnished. No one else at all, except her. As strange as it is to be without a chaperon, it's even stranger for there to be no men at all.
It's a simple room with a few dresses displayed in the tarnished style on one side. No hard-seated waiting area for women. I am wondering if I'm supposed to stand when she directs me to the other side where a sofa with a low table in front of it and several chairs wait. Not just comfort for warlocks at this shop, I suppose. That makes me more at ease already. Once I'm settled, she sits across from me.
“I know it can be hard coming here for the first time, but I'll help you as best I can. When are you to be inked?”
“What? You think I'm—” My hand moves to my face. “No, no. I'm not to be tarnished.” I brush my hands along my skirt. Do I look like I'm about to be tarnished?
Her smile vanishes beneath a hardened face. “What are you doing here then?”
“I'm in need of a dress.”
Her eyes tighten. “There are plenty of seamstresses on Harrington.”
“I know. I've been to many of them already, but none of them would help.”
She shakes her head. “I don't—”
“Sorry, I know I shouldn't have come.” I stand. This was the stupidest idea I've ever had. Not only have I made a bad impression on so many people, I'm getting myself compared to a tarnished. Probably will be punished for it, as well. My frustration bubbles up. While moving toward the door, I say, “I was hoping I could find an engagement dress that wouldn't make me feel as if I'm in my underthings. It was silly. I'm beyond ridiculous today.”
I shove the door open.
“Wait!” The tarnished's voice startles me enough that I follow the command despite my intentions to leave. “Please come back. Forgive me for being rude. I've just never had a customer like you before. I'm Katherine.”
Tarnished have names? That's strange. Still, I hover at the entrance.
Her lips hint at a smile. “We can find you something.”
I raise my brows. “Something more than a slip of a dress?”
The inked skin bunches and becomes fuller on her checks as her smile widens. “A modest dress then. Any other thoughts of what you would like?”
“C-color?”
She claps her hands. “A modest, colored engagement dress. That's an unusual request. When's the ceremony?”
Is she really going to do this for me? Hope flickers within me. “Six days.”
Her face falls for a moment, and then returns to beaming. “Not long, but I'll figure something out. Please, sit back down. What's your name?”
“Serena.” I resume my position on the couch, back straight. “You'll really do this? I can pay you.” I give her the pouch of coins.
“Oh, posh. I can't turn you away now. This will be more than I need, but I'm not sure how much this type of material will cost. May I give you the change later?”
Is this acceptable? I've no idea. Until a few hours ago, I'd never even touched money. “That should be fine.”
She tucks the pouch under the counter and grabs a book and material swatches before sitting back down. “To be honest, I've always thought those engagement dresses and bridal gowns were rather absurd. I've never needed one myself though, obviously, and neither do my usual customers so I've never done much with the thought.”
This feels unreal. She opens the book. I wonder why we need the Woman's Canon until I see several basic dress designs. The tarnished use books in at least one more way than I'm supposed to.
“While you look at these, can you tell me a bit about yourself?”
So I do. It takes me a few minutes to warm to her, but soon I'm telling her everything. We spend the next hour conversing. Instead of being something less than a shadow like I was always told, it's like finding another sister, except she's not afraid of Father and doesn't criticize my unconventional choice. And she likes chocolate, though she has only tried it once.
After a while, she sketches while we talk, making changes here and there, her smile growing with each line. How did someone like one of my sisters, get mixed up with others that are just shadows of people?
“What do you think?” She shows me the sketch.
My breath catches in my throat. The back of my eyes burn, but I blink away the tears before they can manifest. “Perfect. Will you be able to make it in time?”
“I'll make it. Do you know what color you want it?”
Talking to her about what has happened made me realize, I don't want just any color. I don't want to just stand out. I want to feel it. “The color that started it all.”
Chapter Twelve
It's dark when I open the carriage door. Though the ride wasn't far enough to make me too ill, the clean air helps soothe my jumbled stomach. The excitement of the day stays with me as I imagine wearing my engagement dress. It will be the best I've ever worn.