Page 23 of Villainess's Redemption
I stepped into Primrose Boutique, and for a moment, I thought I’d wandered into a pastel-colored nightmare. The place was a confectionery of frills, lace, and enough ribbons to gift-wrap the entire royal palace. Dresses in every shade of pastels and unicorn vomit hung from racks, each more ostentatious than the last.
I used to like these.
Madame Primrose herself swooped down on me like a particularly colorful bird of prey. Her hair was piled high in an elaborate coiffure that defied gravity and good taste. She wore a dress that seemed to be made entirely of ruffles, giving her the appearance of an overgrown bush.
“Lady Stormbourne!” she trilled, her voice as saccharine as her designs. “What an honor to have you grace our humble establishment!”
Humble? I thought. If this is humble, I’d hate to see what you consider extravagant. Set in the most glitzy avenue of Eldoria, Primrose Boutique was anything but humble.
“Madame Primrose,” I greeted, forcing a smile. “Your reputation precedes you.”
“Oh, you flatter me!” she simpered, batting her eyelashes so furiously I was worried she might take flight. “But come, come! You simply must see our latest creations. They’re to die for!”
To die for, or to die in? I wondered as she led me deeper into the boutique.
“This,” she announced, gesturing dramatically to a dress that looked like it had been crafted from spun sugar and dreams, “is our pièce de résistance. The ‘Ethereal Blossom.’ Isn’t it divine?”
Divine wasn’t quite the word I’d use. The dress was a confection of pale pink silk, overlaid with layers upon layers of gossamer-thin tulle. Tiny crystal beads adorned the bodice, catching the light and throwing rainbows across the room. Theskirt billowed out in a cascade of ruffles so voluminous it could probably house a small family.
“It’s… certainly something,” I managed, trying not to wince.
“Oh, but that’s not all!” Madame Primrose gushed, sweeping over to another creation. “This is our ‘Celestial Serenade.’ Perfect for those moonlit garden parties!”
The dress in question was a silvery-blue concoction that seemed to shimmer and shift in the light. Delicate embroidery of stars and moons covered the bodice, while the skirt was adorned with what appeared to be actual crystals. I couldn’t help but think that wearing it would be like draping oneself in a chandelier.
“How… practical,” I murmured, picturing myself trying to navigate a garden in that monstrosity. I’d probably get stuck on every rosebush within a ten-foot radius.
Madame Primrose continued her tour, showing off dress after dress, each more outlandish than the last. The “Springtime Sonata” looked like someone had glued an entire flower shop to a dress form. And don’t even get me started on the “Midsummer Night’s Fantasy,” which seemed to be composed entirely of fairy wings and wishful thinking.
Primrose Boutique got its popularity within the noble class after Queen Felicia wore one of Madame Primrose’s gowns. At that time her creations must have been far more sober and elegant for Her Majesty to wear since I hadn’t heard of the queen wearing any more of Madame Primrose’s designs after.
As Madame Primrose waxed poetic about the virtues of each creation, I found my mind wandering. I imagined trying to milk a cow in the “Ethereal Blossom,” or attempting to harvest wheat while wearing the “Celestial Serenade.” The mental image was so absurd I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud.
Finally, when Madame Primrose paused for breath, I seized my chance. “Madame,” I said, keeping my voice as politeas possible, “while your designs are truly… unique, I require something a bit different.”
Her perfectly plucked eyebrows rose so high they nearly disappeared into her hairline. “Different, my lady?”
I nodded, steeling myself. “Yes. I was hoping for something simpler, more elegant. And perhaps in darker colors?”
You’d have thought I’d suggested we burn the boutique to the ground. Madame Primrose’s face went through a series of expressions so quickly it was as if she were skipping through the pages of an emotional script. Shock, confusion, disgust, and finally, a sort of pitying disdain.
“Darker colors?” she repeated as if the very words left a bad taste in her mouth. “But my lady, surely you jest! Dark colors are so… common. Peasant-like, even. A lady of your standing—”
“A lady of my standing,” I interrupted smoothly, “knows her own mind. And at present, my mind is set on darker, simpler gowns.”
Madame Primrose’s lips pursed as if she’d bitten into a particularly sour lemon. Darker colors, after all weren’t common for noble ladies, it was mostly worn by the common folk.
“I see,” she said, in a tone that suggested she didn’t see at all. “Well, I’m afraid we don’t cater to such… tastes here at Primrose Boutique. Perhaps you’d be better served elsewhere.”
And just like that, I was dismissed. Madame Primrose’s simpering smile had transformed into a sneer of thinly veiled contempt. It was almost impressive how quickly she could switch from fawning to frigid.
Next to me, I heard Laurel gasp, clearly offended on my behalf. I could practically feel the indignation radiating off her in waves. Before she could say anything that might make the situation worse, I laid a gentle hand on her arm.
“Thank you for your time, Madame Primrose,” I said, my voice dripping with sugary politeness. “Your creations are truly… unforgettable.”
With that, I turned on my heel and strode out of the boutique, practically dragging Laurel close behind me. As we stepped back into the bustling market, I smiled to myself. Some things never change, it seemed. But still, I wanted to give her a chance.
“How could she speak like that to you? It is so disrespectful. You should complain to Her Majesty, my lady.” Laurel was fuming outside the boutique. I smiled to myself. She looked adorable with her cheeks flushed red in anger, like a cute chipmunk.
