Mother rarely put effort into making the day feel special unless it was for show. The crown prince, on the other hand, had family members willing to throw genuine festivities. What was keeping him from celebrating?
***
THE WITCH MARKET WASbustling with people despite the early morning cold. In contrast to the rigid stone structures of the rest of the city, the market had the rounded architecture of the past, with curved storefronts and thatched roofs.
Grocery stores, quaint bakeries, and the notorious shops that robbed many of business lined the cobblestone streets, overlooking the canal. The water lapped against the ruddy bricks of the bridge, clear and sparkling in the overcast sky.
The three of us entered a fabric shop, our guards lingering back at the entrance. I was assaulted by a torrent of bright colors and unique textures, each arranged in neat bolts. One of them was a lilac that shifted to pale green, very much like the fabric of Elowyn’s dress.
A middle-aged witch greeted us, fair brows raising in recognition. “Your Highness, Lady Narcissa. It’s an honor to have you here.”
Crown Prince Bennett began asking questions about the logistics of the store’s operation. The witch, who introduced herself as Pamela, spent the next hour showing us around the store and to the back, where several witches sat hard at work. Some looms were weaving by themselves. I asked what kind of magic was involved with their duochrome silks.
“The concept is quite simple. There doesn’t have to be magic involved at all,” Pamela said with a laugh. “We use two different colors for the warp and weft yarns. It produces a shifting effect.”
“Are there any fabrics that do involve magic?” I asked, curious.
Pamela gave me a smile. “Certainly. Our satins and chiffons require the most delicate handiwork. Impossible to do by hand, so we use magic,” she said, gesturing to a self-weaving loom. The moving threads were practically invisible, but the fabric looked like water, shimmering delicately in the light.
We perused the workroom for another hour. At some point, it felt that the crown prince was repeating unnecessary questions, and it became clear we were overstaying our welcome. Ulysses eventually convinced us to leave.
Crown Prince Bennett, however, had no intention of returning to the manor any time soon. The three of us spent the entire day inspecting the market, taking our lunch at one of the bakeries, and riding along the canal.
Lady Marianna was right. It was lovely. Or, it would have been if Ulysses didn’t lose his lunch into the water.
We drifted along for some time, our guards following close, until the sky darkened with clouds and a light drizzle began to fall.
“Really, Highness. I must insist we return,” Ulysses said, motioning for the boatman to let us back onto land.
“Do you think, Ulysses, that the kingdom can tour itself?” Crown Prince Bennett said irritably as we climbed up onto the street. The steward tossed the boatman a coin and ducked underneath a lamppost. It did little to keep the rain off him.
Miraculously, the roofs of the shops were dry. The precipitation was repelled by an invisible sheen of magic. I wished it extended a little further so I could take cover.
“No, but drifting in circles hardly counts as touring the kingdom, Your Highness,” he said. “Just because it’s your birth—”
Crown Prince Bennett gave him an icy look that rivaled the raindrops drenching my hair.
“We are all exhausted, Your Highness. And the guards can’t very well do their jobs properly when they’re frozen stiff,” Ulysses said, straightening. He wiped his spectacles on his coat, but it only wet the lenses more.
I was sure my ears were going to fall off from the cold. Thankfully my wool spencer kept the rain off my shoulders. I couldn’t say the same for my skirts. Still, I feigned indifference as the crown prince regarded us.
“Fine. Let us return.” He turned on his heel, his greatcoat billowing behind him.
It was difficult not to sigh in relief when we returned to the warmth of the manor. Lady Marianna ushered us in, tutting at our drenched state.
“You three ought to dry off at the fireplace,” she said. “Oh, and dinner is ready!”
The crown prince shrugged off his sopping coat and gave it to a passing servant. “I have reports to start.”
Lady Marianna stopped him with a stern look. “Nonsense. You just came back. At least sit down and have something to eat.”
“I’m sorry Aunt Marianna.” He left before she could say anything else. Hurt flashed across her features.
I looked incredulously at his retreating figure. What did he have against birthdays that made him blow off his aunt and a decent meal?
After drying off, Ulysses and I joined Lady Marianna, Prince Ash, and Giselle in the dining room where a variety of dishes were laid out with more care than usual. In the middle of it all was a pumpkin pie, finished off with a dollop of cream in the center.
The ambiance of the meal felt rather bleak, and though the food was delicious, it didn’t entirely distract from Lady Marianna’s frown and Prince Ash’s uncharacteristic silence.
