The Cursed Heir

Chapter Seven

Telyre looked much the same as it had the last time Cassie had been within its borders—the same rickety buildings, the same dusty streets. Although the path they took this time was different, making so many right and left turns that Cassie despaired of ever finding her own way through the streets, the behavior of the peasants was much the same, giving the banisè a ludicrously wide berth. More than half of the open windows Cassie saw whistled closed as they passed by them, and several peasants stopped in their tracks before turning and hurrying the opposite direction when they caught sight of the Gemmaros. Silvana's grim expression, paired with the angry scars that traced their way up her arms and neck did little to contradict their fear.

They at last paused before a building adorned with a green door and a sign proclaiming it to be a dressmaker's. This was it, then. Cassie's new life.

Controlled breathing. Calm expression. Don't be afraid. Don't be weak.

Skylar stepped forward and called, "Aldine!"

There was no answer. Cassie fought the urge to shift on her feet as Silvana glared at the building next door.

"Aldine Kijakazi!"

The door swung open, revealing...nothing. An empty, dark entryway waited within the house. This was already promising. Yet without hesitating, Skylar and Silvana stepped inside. The door shut behind Cassie, who followed a step behind.

As her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the poorly windowed house, the woman who had admitted them came into focus. She stepped away from the door, shapely despite her middling age. Her blue dress was simple—plainer even than a servant's—but her blonde curls were cropped almost as stylishly as any courtier's. The yellow coils brushed the juncture of neck and shoulder, nearly managing to hide a thick, jagged scar that traveled down from collarbone to disappear into the dress' neckline.

Cassie tried not to stare. She had seen her share of scars on Skylar and Silvana—seen her share of them in the making, even, and caused more than she would like—but she had not expected peasants to bear that kind of evidence of dangerous living.

The woman regarded them stiffly, drawn up to her full height. Cassie felt like a dwarf next to her. "Come to collect?" she asked Silvana.

"In a manner of speaking," Skylar answered her, glancing at Cassie. "Do you mind if we—?" He gestured at an open doorway down the hall.

"Of course," the woman said, raising a hand to usher them inside.

At a look from Skylar, Cassie remained behind, watching the door close. They might as well explain everything in private. Maybe they would even mention the curse. If this woman was to take her in, she deserved to know.

With nothing to do but block out the murmur of voices behind the door, Cassie looked around. No shelves of books, a simple fireplace, and although the walls were absent of any tapestries, they were nearly completely wallpapered in sketches of solitary figures. Of clothes, she realized, drifted closer to one, including notes on fabric or cut. Easily outnumbering the papers at eye level were dozens posted lower, varying in height from her knee to her hip, all haphazardly slapped on the wall and clearly in a child's hand.

To the left, there was a plain, wooden staircase leading to a second level. Down the hall and opposite the room currently holding the Gemmaros and Aldine was what looked like a small kitchen. A doorway yawned open directly to her right, encouraging a peek. She could look quickly; she could be quiet.

Cassie poked her head in to find endless piles of fabric and sewing supplies. This must be Aldine's workroom. And hers, if all went according to plan.

What if Aldine refused?