You Are Mine (12 page)

I detest it. “This is what you
wore?”

Mother nods. “I know it's different
from our customary dress, but men like to show off their new
things.”

“
I'm practically
naked.”

“
Serena! Language.” She
puts the rest of her sewing kit away. “Your dress is acceptable for
an engagement. Chancellor Zade informed me it didn't have to be as
traditional. The gowns now days are not nearly as modest as this
one. We can get one of those if you like.”

They can be worse than this? “He said
it didn't have to be as traditional?”

“
Yes. I don't think he
cares too much, and I thought you would prefer this, but obviously
not. We can get something more showy. There's plenty of time to run
to the closest town.”

Cynthia meets my gaze in the mirror,
slowly shaking her head like she knows what I'm thinking. I ignore
it and grab the opportunity to wear something else.

“
I'd like a gown that
covers more.”

“
Really darling, this
dress covers as much as you can for an engagement ceremony. Perhaps
too much.” She eyes the dress, then pulls the pins out. “We don't
want you getting punished over this.”

I hold my hand out. “No. I want
something that doesn't leave me feeling like a red
tarnished.”

Cynthia gasps.

Mother's face whitens, her lips
tighten. “We will see.”

She turns to a nearby servant. “Please
inform the Master that his bride is refusing my choice in
engagement gown instead desiring for something that's highly
unsuitable.”

The servant nods and scurries from the
room. Mother sits in the corner and picks up a blanket she's
embroidering for the baby. Sky blue, of course. Cynthia's worried
eyes watch me.

“
What are you doing?” she
whispers.

“
Would you wear this in
public?” My heart beats faster. She'll have to wear something like
it when she gets engaged. I wonder how long it will take the
servant to return a message. Or what if the Envadi returns with him
to see what all the fuss is about. I hurry to my clothes. “Help me
change into a real dress, Cynthia.”

She sighs and stands to help. “We've
always known the engagement ceremony attire is more revealing than
generally permitted.”

“
And that makes this
acceptable?” I motion to the garment now laying on the floor. “I
think not. I'm not keen on marrying anyway, I refuse to wear
something I'm so uncomfortable in.”

Cynthia picks up the discarded dress,
throws it over a chair, and helps me into a forest green
one.

“
Too much freedom,” mother
says from across the room. “If your Father were here, he'd skip a
beating and go straight to a hex. If that Envadi has half your
Father's wits, he'll do the same.”

I bite my lip as Cynthia finishes
tying my dress. Mother's right, but I don't want her to be. Being
here has made me too lax. Rarely seeing the Envadi and no negative
consequences when I disagreed with his choice of fruit, made me
unwary of how severe punishments can be. I wanted to know how far I
could push him, but by barely crossing the line, not bounding over
it. Is he coming to hex me now? Or will he wait until I've chosen
the wrong gown and hex me then?

The servant enters the room. Mother
puts down her work. “Well?”

Instead of addressing mother, the
servant walks to me and hands me a pouch. “He said to tell you the
carriage has been sent for. You can go to town and pick what you
like. The money should be enough to cover what you
need.”

The bag is heavy. I can't move. I
can't breathe.

“
He did what?” Mother's
eyes grow with disbelief.

“
Sent for the
carriage.”

“
He didn't want to do
anything?”

“
He did ask if she'll
return in time for dinner.”

Does this mean not only can I go to
town, but I can skip another stiff dinner? “Inform him that I won't
be back, but mother would be happy to attend.”

“
She's not going with
you?” the servant asks.

“
No. Cynthia, would you
like to join me?”

Cynthia looks at mother. “I'd better
not. Perhaps you shouldn't either. If you insist on going, at least
take a chaperon.”

That's right. I don't have a chaperon.
The Chancellor didn't offer or provide one. What will happen if I
go without?

“
Don't you do this,”
mother warns. “He's laying a trap for you and you're falling right
into it. He will beat and hex you before tarnishing
you.”

I ignore her.

“
Enjoy your dinner,
Cynthia.”

“
Serena, please don't,”
mother says.

Still pretending she's not speaking, I
head out the door. For the first time in my life, I will do
something wholly by myself.

Chapter Eleven

T
he seamstress keeps staring at the door after I enter. I
glance at it. Nothing special there. The rest of the shop is
customary. An area for chaperons, cushioned chairs and tables laden
with things to eat. To my right is a harder area for women to wait.
Both are empty. Material and clothes are in the back.

The seamstress huffs, getting my
attention. She's an angular woman with no engagement or wedding
mark. Probably a lower class trying to help her family make ends
meet until she can fulfill her purpose by marrying and producing
babies. A warlock sits behind the counter next to her, reading a
book. I can't tell if he's the owner of the shop, or just
supervising. Either way, I wish he wasn't here.

“
When's your Father
coming?” the seamstress asks.

“
It's just me.” Her eyes
grow over raised eyebrows. Using Father's example, I try to sound
authoritative. “I need a dress for an engagement
ceremony.”

“
Ahem. Yes.” She looks at
the door again then grabs a few sheets of loose paper. She thumbs
through the pages a moment before stopping. “Here they are. Basic
patterns we can alter to suit you. Your figure isn't perfect for an
engagement dress, but not bad.”

Cynthia wouldn't have gotten that
criticism. “It's what I have.”

She continues as if I didn't say
anything. “We can come up with something suitable for your Father
to approve when he has time.”

I let the barb and the comment about
Father go. What could I say anyway? I inch forward so I can see the
pages she's referring to. Instantly I avert my eyes. Mother was
serious when she said her dress was old fashioned and modest. These
gowns make mother's choice positively chaste.

“
I was thinking something
a little well
—
well more.”

The shopkeeper nods. “It's not what
you're used to, but they're perfectly respectable for an engagement
ceremony.”

“
I understand, but would
still like something different for my own dress.”

The shopkeeper's face tightens with a
false smile. “Why don't you come back later with your Father and
mother? They are so helpful.”

I slap on an emotionless mask and take
a breath. “My parents nor any other person will attend me. I want a
dress that will cover me properly.” The warlock finally looks at
me, but I keep my focus on the seamstress. “And in a color too, I
should think.”

“
Color?” she says.
“Engagement dresses never have color. Black and black only. For
humility, worthiness, and submission to your intended. Black gives
in to all. A bride must do the same.”

“
Are you saying you won't
make what I'm asking for?”

“
Course I won't. Are you
addled?”

“
Excuse me, I find I won't
be needing your services today.” I leave as she continues to yell
at me to bring my Father. I take a deep breath. Getting clothing
was never like that before, but I always had the one thing she
wanted. Father. Maybe coming without a chaperon wasn't a good idea.
Especially when I'm asking for something so different. Never know
until I try. I head for the next shop.

Three stores later I have similar
degrees of failure, but a variance on rudeness. One store flatly
refused to speak with me without a chaperon, and the last store
said I might as well go to a tarnished store, except tarnished
never marry so wouldn't carry such a thing. In spite of the no
marriage thing, I thought it sounded like a good idea. They make
dresses, it can't be much different to make an engagement one. Can
it?

I give the driver instructions to find
a tarnished seamstress. He lifts a brow, but doesn't say a word as
I climb in the carriage. At least some men seem to care about their
job and not harassing women. Luckily it isn't a far enough drive to
make my stomach feel ill. Yet, as I stand in front of the shop, I
feel ill anyway. A tarnished clothing shop. What was I thinking? I
might as well give in and let myself become a tarnished. Mother's
dress will be fine. She was right. I sigh and head toward the
carriage.

A bell rings and a woman's voice calls
out, “Excuse me.”

I pivot toward the voice. A woman with
the black swirls of a tarnished on her narrow face occupies the
entrance to the shop. Her dress is a two piece in differing colors
of dark gold and black, wild as I expect a tarnished not serving in
a prominent house to be. I step back.

“
Excuse me,” she says
again, “I noticed you've been standing there staring at my shop for
a while. I wondered if there is something I might help you
with.”

Not only is she speaking to me, but
she has a nice, soothing voice.

“
I don't know. I need a
dress, but I suppose I'm in the wrong place.”

“
A dress? I can help. Come
in.” When I hesitate, she opens the door wider. “Please, come
in.”

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?”