Chapter 44:
Kisses
I wake up the next morning in Trevus’s arms. Morning sunlight beams through the window shutters, painting our new home in streaks of warm, inviting colors.
Careful not to wake him, I slowly slip out of the bed. Opening the window shutter lets fresh air inside. I climb into my maroon dress that was hung to dry on the windowsill, then head downstairs with our wash tub against my hip.
After filling the tub with Osis water, I haul the now heavy container back up to our apartment.
“Eager to get going?” Trevus greets as I arrive back.
I put down the tub and begin unbuttoning my new nightwear. “Definitely.”
My gown slips off my shoulders, and I dip my toes into the cold tub.
Warm hands touch my hips, and I squeak in surprise. Trevus pulls my body closer to his. Now kneeling, he kisses the small of my back, his morning stubble tickling my skin and making me giggle. His lips move to my sides, then my stomach. I’m laughing now, squirming around if not for his hands keeping my body in place.
He kisses my arms, then my shoulders, then my chest. I can’t take anymore. I jump out of his hold before my laughter grows any louder, splashing water across the floor in my wake. “You need to shave, Mr. Scratchy,” I say between breaths.
He smirks, rising to his feet again. “Is that so?”
“Mm hmmm.” I fold my arms.
He splashes water on his chin and begins shaving before the mirror. His stubble has grown a lot in two days.
I finish washing at the tub and join him beside the mirror. My reflection reveals the bruises littered across my arms, legs and chest. Trevus was careful to avoid them when kissing. I twist around to get a view of the marks on my back. I should be glad to have escaped the king’s bedroom with my life, but seeing the extent of how I was battered before Trevus arrived is still distressing.
“They are wounds of an old life.” Trevus tugs open his shirt, pointing to the small scar on his chest – the one left by his father. “Physical blemishes fade. The ones to watch out for dwell in your mind. Let them go.”
He’s right. The abuse I suffered at the hands of soldiers doesn’t define me, whether it was in the royal palace or the tower cell. I pull my dress over my head, then adjust my julite necklace until it’s hidden.
We stand before a large store. Two wooden circles carved to resemble balls of wool hang over the front door. As Trevus said – every master artisan begins as an apprentice. If I want to own my own tailoring store one day, the first step is to work in someone else’s.
A woman exits the store wearing an immaculate red and purple outfit. The colors seem to blend between one another, like they were all dyed at the same time. The design is incredible, leagues beyond my ability. Instead of the shirts, pants and dresses I’m familiar with, the Ceramayan people wear one long strip of material that wraps around their frame from knees to shoulders. Their arms are always bare, and the only difference between women and men’s clothing are vivid colors and decorative frilling.
“I don’t even know how to dress in a Ceramayan outfit, let alone make one,” I say. “They won’t want me.”
Trevus rests a hand on my shoulder. “My wardrobe in Lystra still holds my Captain’s oban with your fine stitching. I harbor no doubt for the quality of your work, even when ‘tis performed in the dark wilderness with a wooden splinter. Marcellus only lives today due to your precise needle stitch across his wound. You are competent and capable.”
I smile. He’s right. I should be confident in my ability. The silver coin he paid with has never left my pocket. I hold onto it and lead the way into the establishment.
The shop floor is sparse and open. A crisscrossed shelf holds at least a hundred rolled articles of clothing, and many more Ceramayan outfits are wrapped around thick wooden posts as mannequins.
Our trip to tailor Jenia’s store in Antiock was the last time I entered such a place. That was only a little over a month ago, but it feels so much further away. I remember the maze of clothes and yellow-stained windows. It felt like such an important event at the time – finally leaving my tower cell and getting brand-new clothes. Now buying a new outfit isn’t even a notable part of life.
Trevus was leaning against the wall that day, waiting as Jenia measured the size of my oban. I still felt like a prisoner then – like I was out of place in the store, lesser than the free people around me.
I broke Jenia’s figurine, costing Trevus a valuable gold coin. It was so frightening at the time. I thought he’d dish out a painful punishment, or worse – send me back to that cell.
I look back at him now, and he offers an encouraging smile. This tall, strong man that once had a sword at his side seemed so intimidating in the beginning. I couldn’t read him like other soldiers. I couldn’t anticipate his actions. He never did lay a hand on me, nor did he send me back. Instead, he was my protector, my savior – the prince that came to rescue me from that tower.
Across the shop sits an older lady in her sixties with gray hair, the only other person in the store. Clothing is sprawled out on the desks before her, all mid-stitch with long hanging threads. I’m here, in a tailoring store as a free woman, taking my first step towards a dream that once felt impossible.
“Good morning.” I offer my hand to shake.
“Do you have an appointment?” The woman asks without raising her eyes from her work.
“Oh, I’m not here to get my garments fixed.”
“That’s surprising, as you’re standing in a tailoring shop. Perhaps you’re looking for the chitchat shop instead. I’m too busy for chitchat.”
I lower my hand. This woman doesn’t want to engage. If there was another tailoring shop in Zaybeth, I’d leave, but there isn’t. I look to Trevus.
He bars his teeth and shakes his fist, then points in my direction. I need to meet her callous personality with my own.
I smack my hand on the desk, making a loud thump. The woman looks up, her mouth open in shock. I’ve regularly stood up to soldiers twice my size. A rude old lady doesn’t even begin to frighten me.
“I want to be an apprentice,” I say.
The woman stands. “And how is that my business?” Her hair may be gray, but her spirit is not.
“I’m skilled. I can mend holes and have a neat backstitch.”
“That’s all well and good, but I don’t need an apprentice,” she says.
A stack of frayed garments awaits on the desks beside her. “As you said – you’re busy. With my help, there wouldn’t be a queue of appointments. You could take more days off, and maybe even have time for chitchat.”
She rubs her hand against her chin, thinking it through.
I wait, and she finally speaks again – “I haven’t seen you before.”
“I’m Jade, we just moved here.”
Trevus introduces himself with just his name. “Trevus.”
“The name’s Lara,” the old woman says. She glances at the dozens of garments sprawled across her tables. There’s an abundance of outstanding work. “Have you tailored before?” she asks.
Nearly every piece of sewing I’ve done was on that old maroon outfit I wore in the tower. “I’ve repaired tears and expanded my own robe to fit as I aged.”
“I suppose we do all have our favorite outfits,” she says.
It was my favorite outfit in the sense that the alternative was nothing. Sharing that I spent ten years imprisoned will lead them to question if I’m a murderer. Everything about my teenage years will need to be fabricated. I nod in agreement with her.
“You can patch holes.” She smacks her hand on the folded tower of garments. “If you’re not done by the end of the day, don’t bother coming back tomorrow.”
Yes! She’ll let me work here. Now I just need her to agree to teach me. Riding off the confidence that served me this far, I push further – “I was looking for a more challenging task. I already know how to stitch up holes.”
Lara picks an outfit off the pile and holds it up. “What’s this called?” she asks.
It’s the common Ceramayan outfit – a long piece of material that wraps around the body and hangs from the shoulders. They didn’t escape my notice when we arrived yesterday, but I don’t know its name. “I’m not sure,” I say.
“If you don’t even know what it’s called, how do you expect to sew one?”
“I’m here to learn.”
She tosses the garment to my hands. “It’s a jolcan. Fix enough of them, then maybe one day you’ll be ready to make your own.”
I smile. Her voice is sharp, but there’s a promise underneath – if I perform to her standards, she’ll be my teacher.
“Jade,” Trevus says. “I shall leave the city walls this morning to collect aloler from the northern forest. Let us find one another at our residence in the evening?”
I nod. “See you then.” Reining in the excitement in my voice is challenging.
With Trevus gone, I find a seat behind a desk. The pile of jolcans Lara assigned is nearly half my height. I don’t waste a moment before getting started.
Lara meticulously inspects each garment I complete, often throwing them back on my desk for further touchups. Despite her initial distaste with my performance, the stack of acceptable work slowly grows as hours pass. As the stack gets taller, Lara begins to offer some pointers. By the end of the day, I’m stitching twice as fast and making far fewer mistakes. Eventually the stack of clothes is complete, and thanks to Lara, I can now both chainstitch and blanket stitch.
A handful of customers collect jolcans I’ve worked on. The highlight of the day is receiving two silver coins, ten percent of the profit from the garments I’ve repaired.
“When do we open tomorrow?” I’m standing at the door. The sun is setting, and Lara is packing away the last spools of thread. She let it slip that this is the first time this week she won’t be walking home in the dark.
“No later than an hour after sunrise,” she says.
“See you tomorrow.” I wave and head out.
Lara isn’t an easy master artisan to work under, demanding laborious quantities while rejecting garments for the smallest imperfections. But learning under a professional tailor while earning coins for my work is a dream come true. I would have done anything for an opportunity like this when I was in that tower.
On my way home, I fidget with the two coins in my pocket. They’re on the opposite side to the one Trevus paid me for fixing his oban – my first ever sale. I wouldn’t want to mix them up and accidentally spend it.
I head down a narrow winding road, tracing our steps this morning as best my memory allows. The curving alleyways make it difficult to see very far. Navigating home involves a lot of exploratory guessing, with the stars in the sky offering a hint to the general direction.
“Good evening,” a deep voice greets as I turn a corner. A tall man leans against the wall ahead of my narrow path. He’s about Trevus’s age – mid-twenties. Long black hair adorns his shoulders, and he wears a white jolcan.
“Evening,” I answer but don’t slow down. It’s nearly dark, and I’m eager to get home and share my day with Trevus.
“You must be new. I’d have noticed such a pretty face before,” he says.
“Thank you, but I must be headed home. My partner is waiting.”
His arm crosses the thin alley, blocking my path forward.
I stop. “Sir, I have a partner, and he’s waiting.” While friendliness is usually welcome, this man’s behavior is growing overbearing.
The man twists his head, looking in each direction. We’re alone, and this claustrophobic passage is bare of foot traffic. “Your partner is nowhere to be seen,” the man says. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
I’m appalled at his suggestion. My bond with Trevus is like no other I’ve had. “I’m not that type of girl. Move aside.” My tone is firmer. He insulted my character.
“Easy there. I can’t just let a new pretty face pass by as if invisible.” His arm remains planted on the wall.
“Has every other woman in Zaybeth rejected you, so you bother newcomers instead?” First, he insulted my character, now he’s wasting my time. I’ve had enough.
His brow creases up. I’m done waiting. I duck under his arm. His hand snaps to my bicep, yanking my body backwards. I nearly topple over, stopped only by my back bumping against the stone wall. The old bruises left by the soldiers make me wince.
“Sorry. I forget how delicate you girls are,” he says. He grabs my other arm, pinning my frame in place. “All I ask is a kiss, pretty girl, then you can return to your lover, if you somehow still want to.” He smirks. “Just a taste is enough to change a girl’s mind.”
I glare at his stupid face. His eyes move to my lips, enthralled but also distracted. This man is not a soldier. He’s untrained, holding my frame in place only by the nature that his masculine strength can overpower mine. I doubt he could hit nearly as hard as Marcellus or Giddius. His stare is that of desire, not akin to the malevolent stares of soldiers in Antiock, Nepolis and Lystra. I won’t remove my julite necklace without a serious threat, and this man is not that.
“Okay. Kiss me,” I say. “I’ll bite your bottom lip off. Good luck winning over any woman when you can’t contain your drool.”
His eyes widen for a moment. That wasn’t the response he expected. Why would I be scared of a man who doesn’t even approach the threat of Versillian and Mephian soldiers?
“You stupid whore. Try that and I’ll make you sorry.” He releases one arm and curls his fist as a warning, keeping my other arm pinned against the wall. I’ve been on the receiving end of many punches throughout my life, and I’m still here.
“Striking me won’t stick your lips back on your face, and I’m friends with the best sewer in town, so she won’t be helping you either. Now either kiss me or let go.”
He looks left and right again, as if looking for an excuse to back down.
I hold my glare. I fully intend to follow through with my threat.
He releases my other arm. “Whatever. You’re not worth the trouble.”
I slide around him and continue on my way, not looking back. Irritating man.
Passing into the next road, I follow the street that leads to the Osis. Soon I’m heading through the busy town center – the same bridge that Trevus and I danced on last night. Many of the decorations have been taken down, and the ones remaining are less impressive under daylight.
A poster on the large hall doors brings me to a sharp stop. There’s an ink drawing that resembles my face. It’s one poster among many, each advertising and announcing something different.
I step closer. My stomach twists at the heading – ‘Wanted Alive.’ My eyes leap around the page – ‘Dangerous sorceress. Five-foot two. Brunette hair. Green eyes. Deliver to His Majesty King Tytius of Versillia. Reward of 1,000 gold coins.’ That must be a lifetime of wages. Who could resist that?
I look back at the crowd crossing the bridge. Every person in this city will be after me. People aren’t staring yet, but it won’t be long.
Blocking the view of the poster with my body, I yank it off the door, tearing the corners where it stuck. I crumple it up in shaking hands and sprint back to our apartment.
I like Lara I don’t care
why did I literally jump.
Jade that’s mean😭
Don’t be greedy girl
I would cry😭
Can I have a Trevus?????
Got to love our girl
@rileysing so Trevus wants to have medical supplies around or is he selling stuff in town?
Awww
Yeah, and grow some inches… wait
I thought she was only 5 foot… and I remember that cause she’s shorter then my 5′ shortness lmao
5’1 I mean
Yup, your just a coward afterall
yes
Lmao this dude has no idea who he’s dealing with
Also it’s realistic she can’t just fight her way out of his grip, he’s bigger and stronger since she’s only 5′ tall and not trained to fight
But she doesn’t see him as a threat cause he’s not trained either
Oh, brutal… also girl I don’t think you understand the situation
What’s aloler?
yep
She has no idea…
Yeah banging the table is a bit rude in a way
chitchat shop lmao
Aw, yeah he was a good man even from the start
Aw, that’s such a genuine and heartfelt compliment and support of her work
Nice and expressive but still consistent
Mental scars can remain for a lifetimes and your hurt
Oh well I was wrong lmao
Let me guess he’s going to grow his facial hair just so he can tickle her with it lmao
Mr scratchy lmao
Well thats intimate
welp, time to dye your hair
Well being a tailor needs strictness and discipline, since the details are so fine and such
using her own words against her haha
Girly, why! That’s a perfectly reasonable first apprentice task, Ah dear girlg
Imagine if the old lady was just tired and had to many people chat and not buy anything lol
Dreaming big!
The moral support we all need
she’s a boss 🦾
ITS HERE