Page 33 of A Curse of Breath and Blood

I stood, fixing my soft wool dress. “We better get going, Amolie. The shops fill up fast.”

Amolie nodded and downed her own cup. Ernie brought us both fur-lined cloaks before opening the iron door.

“Have a good day,” he said as a winter wind poured through the house.

“You too!” Amolie and I shouted as we headed into the cobblestone streets.

Dressmakers decorated their windows with the finest garments they could produce in the bustling textile market. Free cities, like Ruska, were said to have the finest dressmakers in all of Moriana. Even the elves in their lofty towers made a pilgrimage to Ruska for formal wear.

The sylph rules of decorum demanded we dress elaborately. Only Itra’s designs would do.

“Hello, your majesty,” Itra said in a low voice, bowing her head in respect as we entered. We were old acquaintances from my days as an emissary.

“It’s just Aelia now. I haven’t been royalty in quite some time.”

“As you wish, Aelia.” She held her hand to her heart. “How can I help you today?”

Reams of colored fabric hung on the wall. I ran a yard of plum velvet through my fingers. “This is for tea with the king.”

Itra remembered the code for when I needed a dress discreetly. She locked the doors and drew the shades—moving with a grace that only came from centuries of living. Her white hair, tied in a long ponytail with black pearls placed throughout. Wrinkles near her eyes marked Itra as one of the elder sylphs.

She led us over to a sketching table where pencils and paper were waiting. “So, what’s the occasion?”

“We will each need a few dresses. They will need to have hidden compartments for weapons and potions.”

Itra’s eyes widened in surprise. “You will want a protectionspell woven into the fabric, then?”She started to sketch frantically.

“We’ll be attending a banquet in the Court of Sorrows and the Alder King’s Yule Revelry.”

Itra paused, her brow knitted in concern. “Have you ever been to one of the Alder King’s Revelries?”

We both shook our heads.

“It is the most extravagant party you will ever attend.” She clapped her hands together in excitement. “Others put in their orders months ago.”

She didn’t have to say it. The dresses were expensive.

I dropped a sack of gold onto her desk. “A down payment. I’ll have the rest when we return to pick up the dresses.”

Itra’s eyes widened. “Of course. I’ll get right to work on these. The Court of Sorrows’ dresses should be ready by the day after tomorrow. I’ll just need your measurements.”

She pointed to a large stool.

I stood with my arms out. Itra took a golden tape measure out of her pocket and encircled it around my feet, letting it slog its way up my body, taking down my measurements for her. Once finished, it recoiled upon itself and returned to Itra’s hand.

After she finished measuring Amolie, we said our goodbyes and headed to the butcher’s shop.

A fresh blanket of snow coated the lamp-lined streets. Peaked roofs of timber-framed houses bore heavy caps of white.

“Do you want to tell me what happened this morning?” Amolie asked as we stopped at the butcher to grab some meat and cheese for dinner.

I gave her an innocent look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A smile curled at the corner of her mouth. “Sure.”

“I don’t kiss and tell, Amolie.” I gave her a coy smile.

“I knew it!” she exclaimed, interrupting the business of the shop.

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