“Are there no libraries in Cluain Baile?”
I shake my head.Nor large dining halls, nor miscellaneous rooms for no purpose other than for show.“Most people in my village cannot read. The most books I’ve seen were in a wool mill in Ballybaeg. And they were all on needlework.”
“Intriguing,” says Ellynne.
We step out of the library, and I immediately miss the inviting scent of the leather.
“Well…” Ellynne pats the library door. “As someone in Princess Carys’s service, you are free to use the library. Take as many books as you want, as long as you return them. Personally, I enjoy the great romances.” She winks playfully at me and a smile tugs at my lips.
By the time we arrive at a nondescript door in a secluded hallway, I’ve forgotten where everything is. Ellynne pushes the door open with little effort and waves me in.
The room is as large as my entire house. If not larger. There’s a bed with carved wooden posts, massive double windows, and a desk piled with crafty supplies against the far wall. Beside the table is a small shelf neatly stocked with spools of colorful threads, stacks of fabric, and other materials that I’ve only dreamed of getting my hands on.
“Welcome to your bedchamber,” says Ellynne when I drag my attention back to her.
I blink at her. “Did you saymybedchamber?”
Ellynne nods, the skin on the corners of her eyes crinkling slightly. “I did.”
I’m at a loss for words. When I do finally move, it’s the bed I make a beeline for. The mattress is like a cloud, the sheets aresilk. Motherabove… “This is the most comfortable thing I have ever sat on in my entire life,” I say aloud.
Ellynne chuckles. “Well, I’m glad you like it. I’m certain you’ll find clothes that fit you in the wardrobe. And …” She points to a door on the opposite side of the desk, and I miss everything she says until she angles her head to me again. “Do you have any questions for me?”
I nod and swallow, trying to tack down one of the dozens of questions flying through my mind. “What exactly is expected of me as Princess Carys’s dressmaker? Aside from… well, making her garments?” Saying that aloud is ridiculous. I am no dressmaker.
Is it common practice for dressmakers to be procured from the Grounds? I bite my lip to keep the question from leaping out.
“Princess Carys has instructed me to help you with basic etiquette. So, first things first. When you address someone of a higher station, be sure to state their title. Princess Carys or Your Highness, for example. Lord Iywan because he is the Hand of the Queen and Carys’s advisor. Most of the noblemen and women at this court should be addressed as ‘Lord’ or ‘Lady,’ including the head healer, Lady Alys.”
So that was the healer’s name.
“The guards are addressed as Sir, followed by their first names, except for Major Kilkenny, and on the unlikely occasion that you get to interact with the queen herself, you should address her as Your Majesty.”
The information is crammed into my head for me to pick apart later. I nod. “Understood.”
“Now,” Ellynne says with a grin, tossing her wavy red hair over her shoulder. “Show me your curtsy.”
I hesitate for a moment. The royals are the only ones who would be worthy of a curtsy, and no royal has visited the Grounds since I was a wee one. I stand, allow my head to adjust to the change in posture, then I place one foot awkwardly behind the other and bend my knees. Ellynne winces and I straighten up right away.
“Let’s work on that,” she says. But despite her corrections and my repeated attempts, my curtsy remains abysmal.
Ellynne smiles reassuringly. “You’ll get it.”
I sigh.
“The most important thing is that you do your job and do it well. The princess is counting on you.”
“Wonderful.”
Ellynne picks up on my sarcasm and chortles. “Just be your genuine self, work well, and stay out of things that aren’t your business.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
For a moment, we stand there wordlessly, then I walk around the room, admiring my surroundings, frequently glancing back at Ellynne to make sure she isn’t speaking to me. Beneath the plush fur rug that extends through most of the room, the floor is tiled with a dark blue and copper motif. The walls are covered with textured paint in burnt sienna, and on one side is a fireplace.
I imagine Taig tottering around the large room, taking it all in. He would thrive here.
My heart clenches painfully, and I have to force myself to breathe in. Then out.
