Page 49 of The Lover's Leap

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I nodded, having absolutely no idea what he was doing. He took the end of my dress in his hands and flipped the hem over so the stitching inside was visible. I noticed both aunts watched, nodding, as he did this.

“See there?” He measured the stitches with his fingers. “Most custom tailors will add volume to fabrics as fine as these.” He showed me how there was quite a bit of extra material sewn into the dress’s seams. “If you were to need a substantial alteration, say because you gained some weight or spilled wine or tore the dress, it would be very, very difficult to obtain matching fabric. Unless you have a storehouse of material, which few in this realm do. Your tailor prepared for anything that might be needed by sewing in such a manner that this dress could be repaired or resized just by tearing out the seams.”

He grabbed the side of the worktable and groaned as he lurched to his feet. His aunts began chattering loudly, and he held up a hand to silence them. “They worry. I’m fine. These knees simply work much harder than knees that don’t have as much leg attached to them.”

Once he was back on his feet, he took the breeches and clothing and set them on the worktable for his aunts. Then he motioned to a privacy screen. “We’ll accept your dress in trade for both the garments and the work to alter them, miss. How soon do you need them?”

I frowned. “Well, I’m not from this shire, and I was hoping to wear the clothes out of here today.”

Brunello sighed deeply and chattered with his aunts. He shook his head while the aunts pounded their fists on the table. “We need two hours to make something you can walk out of here wearing,” he said. “You may return for the second set before sunset.”

“Really?” I asked. “Two hours? You can do the work that fast?”

He nodded and wandered over to the fire to pour himself some tea. He popped a dry biscuit in his mouth and pointed to his aunts. “They insist they can do it in an hour, but I told them not to rush. We have a full day of other client work ahead.” He swallowed his breakfast and motioned me behind the screen to remove my dress.

“I’d be happy for you to take the two hours,” I said tentatively, hoping my next request wouldn’t put them off the work. “I’d specifically like some…special facets added to the clothing.”

Brunello nearly dropped his mug, spilling the tea onto the floor. “Special facets, miss?”

I nodded and explained the items I wished to carry, if possible, concealed within a sleeve or the leg of the breeches. Brunello nodded, seemingly unaffected by the request. He spoke with his aunts and then confirmed.

“Two hours, no longer.”

I went behind the privacy curtain and removed my dress. Then the aunts joined me behind the screen, chatting with each other while their expert hands measured me.

Two hours later, dressed and armed in attire much better suited to my plan than my gown, I headed to Knuckles & Bones.

ChapterFourteen

My stomach rumbled by the time I finally walked the long dusty path to Knuckles & Bones. The midday sun high was in the sky. Tucked into a fold in one leg of my new-to-me breeches was a fire striker made by Syndrian’s hand, a tool I wanted close at hand—just in case.

Tightly wrapped and secured in a small fabric pocket in the other leg of the breeches were some of the coins from my mother. I’d poured the rest of them into the bag with my meager personal funds. If I were robbed or otherwise lost my pouch, at least I wouldn’t be stranded penniless in Kyruna.

At my hip, I wore a sheathed dagger, and over my shoulder, I slung the leather pouch that contained my game board, checkers, and the rest of the money I planned to bet with.

I’d styled my hair in the manner of working women like Letti. A practical plait that kept the hair from my eyes and gave away little more information about me. I wore a veil over my hair, but I hoped that the material’s age and condition wouldn’t mark me as noble, as a Lombard, or the gods forbid—should anyone in this shire know my family—the woman betrothed to an Otleich. Somehow, knowing the name of the man who would become my husband made me ever more desperate to conceal any aspects of my hair or dress that might identify me in Kyruna.

Although I had no idea what my future husband looked like, if he was one of the many nameless men I’d seen traveling with my father over the years…perhaps I would recognize him if I saw him. Or he might recognize me. It might have been an overcautious concern, but after what I’d seen the last time I was here, being cautious and better prepared felt like the least I could do.

“Caution is my new strategy,” I reminded myself under my breath. I couldn’t help wondering if I would find Syndrian in the pub, and of course my traitorous heart beat all the faster just thinking of him.

I shook away such foolish thoughts and hopes and steadied myself for the task ahead. He would likely be at his father’s shop, for at least a few more hours. Unpleasant as things there were, it was his job.

But I could not help the hollow sensation that filled my chest thinking about him not being close by at such an important moment in my life. The moment when I might actually succeed at something on my own merits. Win my freedom. Save the day myself. Like I’d felt for so many years, the victory would be so much sweeter with his quiet presence and knowing smile overlooking my every move.

As I rounded the back of the tavern, I saw something that dragged my mind away from thoughts of Syndrian, freezing my feet on the path. Two bodies swung from very high ropes above the rear doors of Knuckles & Bones. In truth, it was a stretch to call the wretched rags and picked-over fleshbodies, but the bones that were exposed made it clear that the things in the air had once been human. Their feet—or what was left of them—dangled about an arm’s length above my head. The stench of rot was nearly intolerable, and I grabbed the edge of my veil to cover my mouth and nose as I approached.

I peered up at the poor souls, a cold shiver raising the hairs on my neck. Deep gouges marked the tissue of their torsos, slicing clean through the stained fabric of their tunics. Their eyes had been pecked out, and traces of dried blood coated the bubbled skin around their sockets. Burned from the toxic saliva of the vengersax, no doubt. Their tongues had been eaten as well, as I could see from the open jaws that exposed what remained of their stained teeth.

The attack had left them so disfigured, the dead would be nearly unidentifiable, even to those who’d known them. Lowering my eyes to head level, I noted their footwear had been stolen, and even scraps of the fabric of their breeches had been cut away, leaving plenty of flesh for the winged daggers to feast upon.

“May the gods deliver you to the welcoming shores of Forráheim,” I whispered. Whether or not these people had committed grave acts in life, I wished them a peaceful afterlife. Certainly not the dreaded realm of demons.

I had little doubt who they had been and why their bodies had been left there. The knife wound to the belly of one man, his tunic sliced and stained black, made me certain that this was the pair who’d been fighting in the pub when Syndrian rushed me from the scene.

A sour taste filled my mouth, and I fought the urge to cough as my empty stomach roiled. What happened to those who broke the laws of the pub, or perhaps of Kyruna itself, felt like a warning of what might happen to me if I broke the trust of the Otleich family. All the more reason to disguise myself, to maintain a low profile, and to simply win a bit of money. Well, at least until after the tournament.

I shoved my shoulder into the rear door of the pub and was surprised at how busy the place was. At this midday hour, tables were about half as full as they’d been the other evening. Even without the lamps lit, the sunshine that filtered through the windows warmed the place, lifting every smell to my nose. Barkeeps poured ale and served bread and beans. I sniffed the rich, spicy aromas while scanning the crowd. There were fewer players all around, and that meant I would stand out more, but it also meant I might be more likely to find a welcoming game.


Tags: Callie Chase Fantasy