They had not yet made any purchases, but Lady Cabril held out the burgundy gown. Glad for something to do, Ashlin took the dress to the back table to fold and wrap it in the brown paper that Mistress Cedrice kept for such a purpose.
“I will finish our business with the seamstress,” Lady Cabril continued, “after she is done serving Her Highness, of course.”
Onric stood in the center of the shop, his hands behind his back as he observed the interaction. His face was impossible to read, but his eyes kept glancing at her in confusion.
“What a fine cloak, my Lord,” her stepmother said, drawing the prince’s attention. “Don’t you think so, Sta... Ashlin?”
Out of habit, Ashlin looked up at the sound of her name.
Stasiya was nodding emphatically while batting her eyelashes. Without the seamstress to hold the back seam of her dress open, the collar had started to loosen, and she did nothing to fix it.
Onric nodded curtly but did not let his eyes linger on her. Rather, he turned them back towards Ashlin, raising his eyebrow slightly.
She quickly looked back at her hands, tying the paper tightly closed to protect the dress.
“Hurry home, maid, and be sure to tell cook we will be hungry for supper upon our return.”
“Yes, my lady,” Ashlin responded. Picking up the heavy package, she avoided Onric’s eyes and dashed out of the shop. They did not have a cook. Likely her stepmother thought that by mentioning one they would appear less destitute. Ashlin did not try to decipher her stepmother’s erratic actions any deeper than that.
Arriving home, she placed the package in the family parlor and went to the kitchen to start preparing supper.
About an hour later, the front door slammed open. “Ashlin!”
Ashlin cringed.
She moved to meet her stepmother at the front door, but the woman was already striding into the kitchen. Her face was red from the bitter cold outside, and her eyes were alive with a fire that Ashlin had never seen before. Remembering the strike her stepmother had delivered to her hardly an hour previously, Ashlin pressed herself backwards into the counter behind her.
Stasiya looked into the kitchen behind her mother, but Lady Cabril closed the door in her face.
“What happened back there?”
“I’m sorry, Stepmother...” Ashlin shrank into the counter behind her.
“Madam.”
“Madam. I, I dropped the mirror. It was clumsy, but I was taken by surprise.”
“Not that, you fool. He recognized you.” She took a step further into the room.
“I do work at the palace. Perhaps he thought I looked familiar.”
“You scrub floors in a kitchen. Does the royal family pay attention to their scullery maids?”
“No, madam.”
“Are you lying to me?”
“No, madam.”
Lady Cabril stared at her.
“Then why did he move towards you first?”
“Because I clumsily dropped the mirror, and perhaps he has a kind heart and merely wanted to see if I was alright. Surely he could see that I am merely a servant. He would not have taken a second glance at me otherwise.”
Lady Cabril nodded, her iron facade beginning to crumble. “That’s true. Why would he pay attention to a mere servant when a girl as lovely as Stasiya was in the same room. He seemed quite smitten with her after you left. They talked at length.”
Ashlin swallowed, nodding at her stepmother’s words and wishing the woman would step backwards.
