“Hi,” Cassia said, with a shy smile.
“Well, you sure could use something more to wear. You need help finding anything, sweetheart?” Larie asked.
Aevrin bristled at the near-insult, but didn’t speak for Cassia.
“No thank you. I’ll just take a look around,” the woman at his side said.
“You do that,” Larie said with a satisfied smile. She turned to Aevrin, eyes lighting. “Hey, how’s your pa?”
“Good, nothing new,” he grumbled. Knowing he was about to get caught up in a storm of town gossip whether or not he tried to avoid it, Aevrin ambled over towards Larie. It was either that or let the forty year old widow ask Cassia a million questions he knew Cassia wouldn’t want asked. She was already starting to poke through the nearest table of tops.
“Ma’am? Is it alright if I try things on?” Cassia asked a few minutes later, in the middle of Larie telling Aevrin all about the healer Evelya’s fancy new out-of-town suitor. It was news he’d have to keep to himself, or Mavek would be sighing and moping for days.
“Oh, of course, sweetheart! Privacy’s just over this way. Tuck around that corner, I'll make sure nobody goes back here. You finding anything you like?Oh, that top will look like magic on you. You getting cold weather clothes? Don’t let the fires fool you. It gets cold fast, this time of year,” Larie said, her voice fading as she steered Cassia towards the back of the shop through dense rows of fabrics with a hand on the other woman’s shoulder.
Aevrin fingered the rim of his hat and wondered if he ought to go save Miss Cassia from Larie’s inevitable questions, but as soon as she was sequestered around the corner Larie came back out to keep spilling all her gossip to Aevrin and mininghis nonchalant comments for new tidbits to add to her hoard of information.
When Cassia came up to the counter with a whole armful of clothes, he was surprised to see it was mostly practical pieces, underthings and sturdy trousers and simple tunics. She’d followed Larie’s advice and gotten a soft jerkin that would be loose on her, a heavy knitted shirt, and a well-worn padded coat that would get her through the first part of fall. She’d found a pair of banged-up leather riding boots, too, and a hair comb and hair-ribbons.
“None of those dresses work?” Larie asked in evident surprise.
“No, some fit, just… didn’t seem practical.” Cassia ducked her head.
“Get them,” Aevrin urged, remembering her dress the night he’d found her. If she liked pretty things, she ought to own them.
Cassia hesitated, then walked away and returned with a single floor-length russet dress.
“You need any jewelry, Cassia? A girl oughta have jewelry,” Larie urged. Aevrin looked at her expectantly.
“That’s quite alright,” Cassia said, ducking her head again.
“One sixty-three,” Larie announced after she’d tallied everything up and carefully tied the clothes in a bundle. “You know, Cassia, you couldn’t have landed with a better family. The Rivekers are practically Dawn Ridge royalty.” She winked at Aevrin.
“They’ve been far too kind to me,” Cassia told Larie earnestly.
Too embarrassed to meet Cassia’s eyes, Aevrin counted out the coins and paid Larie.
“C’mon, Miss Cassia,” Aevrin growled, terrified Larie was about to launch into a string of exaggerated praises.
“Bye, now!” Larie called.
Aevrin let Cassia carry her boots, but he hauled the bundle of clothes over his shoulder and opened the door for her.
“Goodbye,” Cassia said softly back. Her forehead creased and she looked at the ground as they walked back to the cart, lost in thought.
“Something wrong, Miss Cassia?”
“What? Oh, nothing,” she told him with a quick smile that faded just as fast as it had come.
He wondered if it was about the money for the clothes, and hoped not. It had been Gramma Prisca’s idea to take the money out of Cassia’s pay.
“We oughta just buy them for her,” Aevrin had argued that morning when he heard the plan. “Not like we can’t afford it.” Riveker cattle fetched some of the highest prices in the Empire. Their bulls were ridden by gentry, officers, and captains, not the regular cavalry. Their cows were class-one berzerkers, capable of clearing a frontline on the battlefield.
“Have you seen how that girl flinches the moment she’s offered anything? She’s one who won’t take any help for free. She wants to earn her way,” Gramma Prisca had told him.
“Yeah, but…” the idea of tallying and fining a woman who’d run into trouble like Cassia didn’t sit right with him. It wasn’t the neighborly thing to do. And he felt a lot more protective of her than he did of an ordinary neighbor.
“If you walked into Larie’s and told Miss Cassia it wasyourmoney you were spending, she’d get one sock and say she didn’t need a pair,” Gramma Prisca had said. “I know the kind, Aevrin. So you let me put her on the ledgers and you let her worry about her budget herself.”
