It isn't the happily ever after that I imagined, but maybe I'm just meant to be a dressmaker, and hangover curtains are the cure for headaches everywhere.
Lisette Sunfell, savior of hangovers realm-wide. She lived and died alone in her dress shop, making tea on the side.
The thought of being alone sobers me a little, but I could really go for some tea at the moment. My grandmother always says that tea cures all ailments, and while it isn't one of Noemi's spells, I would certainly feel a lot better with some tea to sip while working on my curtains.
I put down the textile and move to the back of the shop, busying myself getting the tea brewed so I can start on the curtains.
The bell on my front door jingles as soon as I turn my back.
"Ah, I told you, this is perfect, Ysolde!" says a female voice, one that sounds both kind and gruff at the same time. "Everything any bride would ever need for looking glamorous at her own wedding."
That is exactly what I was going for, and the praise cuts through the fog of my hangover. I stand up to welcome my next guest, my hangover briefly forgotten.
"Welc— ow, fuck!"
While straightening up, I miscalculate how far I am from the open cupboard, and I ram the crown of my head right into the corner. Pain, different from my previous headache but a new headache all the same, explodes across my skull, and I groan. I fold forward, clutching at my head. For a moment, it truly feels like my vision is going black and I'm going to pass out in front of new customers.
Right in front of the female who just said my little dress shop is perfect.
"Oh my!" another female voice exclaims, and I feel strong hands support my elbows before I topple over. "Here, have a seat, Miss…"
"Lissy," I supply, although it comes out as more of a grumble. I feel the chair beneath me and surrender my weight to it."Thank you, sorry about that, I just…" I hiss in pain as I touch the top of my head.
Shit, a goose egg is already forming. And I'm so blinded by pain that I can't see the two women who are helping me.
"Oh, it does look bad," the first voice says. "Torgan, can you come over here to help? Maybe some ice or something?"
The name Torgan echoes in my aching head. I've never heard the name before, but it sounds vaguely orcish, and I know that it's rare for orcs to come through Starling Vale, especially after that one went to Noemi's spell shop a few days ago.
"I don't have ice," I say.
"A spell then," one of the females says eagerly. "Do you have something for pain?"
Before I can answer, a male voice joins the fray. "There's a spell shop down the road. I can get her some pain medicine there."
I freeze, and between my fingers, I look up and see the male orc I saw in Noemi's shop a few days ago. He's wearing different clothing from our earlier encounter — and I would know, because I fisted his 120-thread linen tunic, and this one is made out of silk, as though this is a special-occasion outing, while before he was trying to look inconspicuous. Except there is no way this orc could ever look inconspicuous.
Shit, maybe I do see what Lyra sees in orcs.
Or maybe it's my aching head.
There is zero recognition in his gaze as he looks down at me. Okay, there is a sneer, so maybe he does recognize me, but he doesn't say anything that would give anything away to the others — orcs as well, I see now, and the resemblance is enough for me to realize that they're all family.
The Oakenshades, I remember. Noemi called him Lord Oakenshade.
"How do you know there's a spell shop nearby?" one of the females asks him. "You've never been here before. Have you been here before, Ysolde?" she asks the other female, who shakes her head in response.
He freezes. "No. I have not." Again, there is that flash of recognition as he looks down at me. A warning not to oust him as having been in Starling Vale before.
"It's Noemi's Spell Shop," I say, deciding to cover for him. If anything, I rationalize that I need to be nice in order for this sale to come through. "It's a famous establishment in Starling Vale. He probably heard of it." And I give him what I hope is a pointed look.
You owe me.
And I hope he pays me back with something from Noemi's. Quickly. It wouldn't be the first time I've smashed my head into my own things — she'll know exactly what I need.
"Exactly," he says in a hurried, gruff voice. "I will be right back."
The doorbell jingles again. I let out a breath when he is gone. The two female orcs seem much less intimidating than their brother.
