MOMENTS LATER, WHENall was silent save for the splashing of water, I crept back up the stairs to the second floor.
Sneaking up here never failed to make me feel like a child in the village candy shop—one, because I was told explicitly not to venture there, and two, there were tempting confections of all kinds.There was just enough light streaming in through the small, filthy window to illuminate the contents of the millinery room.
Twisted velvet ribbons as black as licorice sat in glass cases; paste gems sparkled with a hard-candy sheen; feathers as light as spun sugar lined the wooden compartments.My eye caught on the prize I sought.Across the room in an open cupboard sat rows upon rows of thread in every shade, from the jewel tones of fruit jellies to cotton candy pastels.
To my right, a wooden work table was pushed up against the wall.Felted wool piled around wooden head blocks, upon which hats and bonnets of every shape and color sat.I admired the elegance of the designs and the artful arrangement of silk flowers upon the curved brims.
Mrs.Lewis had once been a rather accomplished milliner, if her older pieces indicated anything.Sadly, old age and ill humor left her with cloudy eyes and shaking hands.The loss of her craft was the only thing about the dreadful old crone I could sympathize with.
She had kept all the remnants of her past life on the second floor of her building.Leaving such a fine hoard to collect dust was a wrong that needed to be righted.
I glanced over my shoulder at the narrow staircase.No creaks sounded from the floor above, a telltale sign that Mrs.Lewis hadn’t moved from her bath.A grin tugged at my lips as I stepped onto a stool, coming eye-to-eye with her fantastic collection of thread.My eyes trailed hungrily over emerald greens and periwinkle blues, all shining with a faint luster.
I was tempted to pocket entire spools at once, but I focused on what I needed at hand.Some white thread to baste together Narcissa’s wedding gown.And perhaps a few yards of bleached linen thread for Maddox’s shirts, something I hadn’t had the funds to repurchase ever since Mrs.Lewis increased rent last month, claiming that she deserved a cut from my shop’s nonexistent profits.
With utmost precision, I nudged the ends of the threads with my magic to wind around my fingers.The spools spun silently on their wooden pins.The skeins on my fingers grew thicker until I deemed them enough for what I needed.Carefully, I snipped them free with a pair of embroidery scissors on the counter.
My magic hummed, coursing through my blood in a delightful, heady tingle as I tucked the skeins of thread into my pocket.It had been dormant for far too long, save for when I was sewing.I had used more of it when I joined the Witch Committee.
Though, I thought darkly,perhaps it is better to leavesomeparts unused.
5
The next morning withmy thread supply secured, I took five minutes to knot a quick charm out of twine and two brassy beads, meant to attract wealth.The charm was simple, requiring minimal magic.I’d gotten into the habit of making one per week, and occasionally I would stumble upon a coin in the streets.It wasn’t much, but every little bit helped.
After tucking it into the waistband of my skirt, I skipped out to call for a horse chaise to the palace.
***
NARCISSA TURNED TOthe right, then left.“It’s...a little breezy, isn’t it?”she finally said.
The hem of her wedding gown, instead of hitting the floor as I intended, hung about two inches above her ankles.
“Could’ve sworn I wrote down the right measurement,” I muttered miserably.In my eagerness, I had forwent making a mockup on the skirt and cut straight into the lavish silk satin.Alas, it was far too short.Piecing another strip of satin at the hem would not yield the luxurious results I wanted.The skirt would have to be redone.
That meant buying more fabric.But that would have to wait, as I had given what I had on hand to Miriam yesterday.
