“Does this cobbler—has he worked with any other customers like me?” I ask as I follow Melly to the outer sitting room.
Her eyes darken with understanding. “I can’t say, but I’m sure he’ll do a good job. He serves a number of noble families. His reputation will be on the line if he doesn’t do well by you.”
I wish I could rest as comfortably in this knowledge as Melly does.
She reaches out to pat my shoulder. “It will be fine,” she says, as if she can see the future.
The cobbler is a middle-aged man with a too-wide smile and well-manicured hands. He wears a pair of simple leather slippers, embroidered in dark colors—understated and elegant, meant to show off his skill without being pretentious.
“I understand,” he says as he waves me to the sofa, “that you will require special shoes. I am quite looking forward to the challenge.”
My smile, stiff before, feels like it is carved upon my face. I seat myself silently.
“Now then, let’s have a look—”
“These are the slippers I have been wearing at home,” I say in an effort to prepare him so that he won’t say something I’ll hate him for. “They fit me perfectly, so you should be able to use them as a template for my new shoes.”
“Do they?” he asks, taking them from me. He sets the right slipper down and focuses on the left, turning it this way and that. “Very interesting construction. I don’t see why such a turn of the sole is necessary.”
Because I would rather not have seams beneath the side of my foot?
“As I mentioned,” Melly says, “the construction must suit my cousin’s needs.”
“Quite, quite, veria. If I can take a look at her foot, we’ll see what I can do to make an even better slipper.”
I bow to the inevitable with what grace I can muster and extend my foot.
“Hardly what I am used to,” he tells Melly as if I were not attached to the foot he is inspecting. As if I had chosen to be born with a deformed foot merely to aggravate him. “But of course I can work with it.”
He sits back without having made a single tracing, and after a quick conversation regarding colors and beads, the passing over of various swatches of fabric, and the promise given of new slippers to be delivered in the next two days, he departs.
“That wasn’t too bad,” Melly says, watching me carefully.
I shrug, well aware it won’t be so easy. “Depends on what he delivers.”
The following morning I walk into the dining room to find Filadon and Melly deep in discussion.
“Rae,” Melly says, catching sight of me, but there’s no warmth in her voice. She gives herself a slight shake and says, somewhat more like her usual self, “Come join us.”
“Is something wrong?” I ask, crossing to her.
“Not at all,” Filadon says, looking like a cat that has got into the milk. “Things have come right, and with your help, I think we may have an answer to a rather difficult question Kestrin has put me.”
“Do let her sit down, Filadon,” Melly says. “She hasn’t yet had a bite to eat.”
“The prince?” I demand, wondering what I could possibly have to do with him.
“Yes, yes, Zayyid Kestrin. Do sit down or Ramella will have my head.”
“Among other things,” Melly mutters in my ear as I bend to give her a quick hug. I swallow a laugh and slip into the seat beside her. “Don’t let him bully you. He’s got one of his harebrained ideas.”
“Those are typically such fun,” I say, starting to grin.
“Sometimes,” she agrees. “Harebrained ideas at court are a bit different.”
“Now, Melly,” Filadon says, taking her hand with a mischievous smile. “Don’t prejudice our dear cousin.”
She says with mock severity, “Rae is here to visit and keep me company. Not anything else.” She eyes Filadon darkly. “And she’s my cousin, not yours.”
“Details,” he replies, waving a hand. “Let’s put the question to her, why don’t we?”
“Please do,” I say. “Before I die of curiosity.”
Filadon sobers as he turns to me. “I assume you heard all the news about the impostor and the true princess. You haven’t asked a word.”
“It wasn’t my concern,” I say. “I only heard that the true princess has been found, and the impostor executed. Rather terribly.”
“She was hanged,” Melly says. “Though I doubt that got out as far as the tale of what she would have done to the true princess.”
“The princess prevailed upon Kestrin and the king to change the sentence,” Filadon explains.
I’m glad to hear that, at least. The initial sentence involving barrels and nails still makes my skin crawl. “But what does any of that have to do with me?”
Filadon studies me in silence.
“Go on and tell her,” Melly says.
He sighs. “To put it plainly, the new princess has asked Kestrin’s aid in finding someone trustworthy to help her. Someone who will not divulge her secrets or betray her.”
“Help?” I ask mildly.
“Not help,” Filadon says quickly. “She’s maids and servants aplenty. This is different.”
“He means a royal attendant,” Melly explains.
Me? A royal attendant? I haven’t even seen the court yet, let alone developed any concept of dress or propriety or anything, really. How could I possibly attend the princess? A small chuckle breaks from my lips. “That’s absurd.”
“Rae, let me explain,” Filadon says, sitting forward.
“Please do,” I say. “And while you’re at it, tell me why the princess would want a clubfooted country girl with no clue about the court, or fixing her hair, or doing whatever else it is attendants do.”
“She has a maid for her hair, and three other attendants who can see to the rest,” Filadon replies. “You don’t have to know the court; in fact, she needs someone who doesn’t have previous alliances. You just have to do whatever it is you think she needs.”
“Such as?”
He glances to Melly, who answers. “Make sure she knows about our customs so she doesn’t offend anyone by mistake. Listen for gossip and intrigues and tell her what she needs to know. Keep her confidences, I suppose. And do what she asks you to do without betraying her trust.”
“Exactly,” Filadon says. “You’d be part of Alyrra’s entourage, if you will, staying by her side and giving good counsel.”
Good counsel? “I can tell her about horses,” I say dryly. “Not much else.”
Filadon shakes his head. “You might be surprised.”
“I suppose that’s possible.” Though vanishingly unlikely.
Filadon nods as if that has decided it. “Good, then. We ought to be able to meet Kestrin after breakfast.”
“What?” I blink at him and then look down at my still-empty plate.
“She hasn’t agreed to it yet,” Melly interrupts sharply.
“Let her think about it,” Filadon says, stealing her argument. “I’m sure Kestrin will want to discuss it with her, and they can both see what they think. After all, Kestrin can’t decide whether or not to recommend her if he hasn’t met her.”