“Of course you are, Princess.” Ezra’s voice dripped with condescension. She reached out and patted Meena on the shoulder like a child.
“I knew you would understand.” Meena dried her tears and held up a silk slipper. A large rip ran along the heel of it. “Can we go to the seamstress to get this fixed? It’s my best pair for dancing.”
“Oh, no.” Ezra’s sympathy was as fake as Sol’s forced smile. “One of my maids can surely sew it up for you, there is no need to go out.”
Meena turned the slipper over in her hand, fingering the rip. “Please?” Meena blinked up at Ezra, forcing tears to her eyes. “I don’t trust just anyone. It must be done by the best. This is my favorite pair.”
“Alright.” Ezra sighed.
“Thank you,” Meena dashed to the door and threw it open.
“Oh, right now?” Ezra asked.
Meena walked out into the street without looking back.
“I forgot something,”Meena said to Ezra a short while later. “I’ll be right back.”
“You can’t just leave me here!” Ezra protested. She was standing in front of a floor-length mirror at the seamstress’s shop. The seamstress in question was kneeling on the floor at her feet, meticulously pinning up the hem of the extravagant yellow gown Ezra now wore.
“I’m notleavingyou,” Meena protested, backing away slowly. “I’ll be right back.”
Ezra sent Meena a sharp glare through the mirror.
Meena frowned. Yellow was not Ezra’s color.
“I thought we were here foryourslipper?” Ezra said, her voice dangerously flat.
“We are, and the dear seamstress will take care of it in time for tonight. But I just had to see you in that yellow dress. It suits you.”
It had taken some convincing to get Ezra to slip into the large evening dress the seamstress had on display.
After that, Meena simply had to ask the dressmaker to measure out the necessary fittings. If Meena had learned anything from Ashlin, it was that a seamstress held complete power over her client while making adjustments to garments.
“In fact, I’ll even purchase it for you as a gift of gratitude for your hospitality,” Meena said. She turned and ran from the shop before Ezra could respond.
Purchasing the bright yellow dress for Ezra, who clearly hated it, would make an excellent jest. And it would be a delightful payback for the woman’s annoying coldheartedness.
Free from the sewing shop and her keeper for a few moments, Meena dashed across the street into a familiar open courtyard. “Mistress Sophie?” Meena whispered, not bothering to knock as she slipped inside the sunken door to the wise woman’s home.
“My dear princess,” the older woman held a hand over her heart. Her eyes were wide with shock. “You frightened me.”
“I’m so sorry,” Meena said quietly, flinching just a little in apology.
The wall covering behind Sophie fluttered closed, as though she had just stepped out of it.
“What can I do for you, my dear?” Sophie asked, adjusting her head covering, which was tilted to the side.
Meena took a step further into the room, glancing to ensure no one else could hear her. “I came to ask for your help,” she whispered.
“I presumed as much,” Sophie replied blandly. “That is usually why people seek me out.”
Meena was confused. She expected Sophie to know exactly why she was here. Sophie had given Sol the letter in front of Meena, and mentioned harmony.
Meena’s eyes went wide, glancing back to the wall covering which hid the door Sophie had used previously.
Perhaps Sophie had not just exited the room, perhaps she had just pushed someone into it. “Is it safe to speak?” Meena asked, whispering as quietly as she could.
Sophie’s face relaxed. “You can come out now, Neven, it’s safe.”
