Chapter 1
The evening sun was warm as it shone through the shop’s upper windows. Behind the counter Violet perched on the edge of her stool as she bent over the dress she was repairing. Loose strands of her mushroom brown hair that had escaped her braid, tickled her cheeks. She jumped and stuck her finger as the door banged open suddenly and a girl rushed in. Her hair was a mass of strawberry blonde curls, her blue eyes bright with excitement.
“Violet!” She shouted as she leaned over the counter. “Guess what!”
“What?” Violet asked as she pressed her bleeding finger into her skirt.
“Reginald passed this morning, there was an accident on the hunt, his horse got scared and he fell!” Rayana’s chest heaved as the words rushed out of her. Her normally pale face was bright red, her infinite freckles almost invisible in her flush. Violet’s brow arched as she looked up at her friend.
“You seem awfully excited about someone dying.” Violet sighed as she put down her sewing, knowing Rayana required her full attention.
“I know but he was old and this means there is an opening in the Garden and this means there is going to be a ball that we can attend!” Rayana spun around in excitement, her arms outstretched. Violet tucked a loose curl behind her ear and watched her best friend dance with an invisible partner.
“You know I’ve never cared much about the Garden.” Violet said, a small smile spreading across her face, Rayana’s excitement contagious. Rayana stopped her dancing and rushed back over to the counter, reaching for Violet. Rayana’s hands were small and pale against Violet’s rosy tan.
“I know but I can’t possibly go alone!” Rayana exclaimed rather loudly. Violet was suddenly grateful the shop was empty for once, as her friend’s exuberance made her loud.
“I guess I can go with you to present your talent. Maybe someone will have some seeds I don’t have yet.” Violet smiled as her own excitement filled her. Many people would be traveling to the castle for the Garden Festival, presenting talents before the ball.
“I was thinking I’d make my cinnamon apple cake to present! And Mother is already on her way to get fabric for my ball gown!” She practically squealed and started dancing again. “Can you imagine joining the Garden, it’s so romantic. Spending all day with the royal family, getting to learn and do whatever you want. I know I love baking, which is good since my family runs a bakery, but I could be a musician or a dancer.”
Violet hopped off her stool and joined her friend on the impromptu dance floor. Violet stood a good hand taller than her friend and found it easier to take the lead in their dance, twirling Rayana gently. They were both giggling when the door slammed open again and they both stopped dancing immediately when they saw the woman in the doorway.
Taller even than Violet, Lady Lily Montre was an imposingly stern figure in black. Fair and thin, with her silver hair piled artfully in a tall hive, she stood in the doorway looking disapprovingly at the girls. Disdain clear in her green eyes, she sneered and took a step into the shop. Rayana curtsied hurriedly and rushed out the door when there was enough space for her to pass without going near Lady Montre. Violet curtsied politely and kept her eyes lowered, suspecting she knew why the Lady was here.
“I’m guessing by the baker girl’s presence, you already heard the news.” She stated coldly.
“I heard, there is an opening in the Garden.” Violet answered, keeping her eyes downcast.
“Yes, the girls and I will need gowns. We only have 9 days until the full moon. You are to close the shop and head straight to the market. Green for Dahlia and Pink for Peony. Tell Kristina to charge the fabrics to our account. Keep mine simple, but the girls need to shine. Do not disappoint.” With a final disgusted look at the dark and dusty shop she left.
Violet sighed, knowing the next week was going to be long and painful, making three new gowns, two of which she knew were going to have to be elaborate. She quickly closed all the shudders and was locking the front door within minutes of Lady Montre leaving.
When she reached the city’s market she wasn’t surprised to find it busier than usual, as everyone was rushing to get their supplies for the Garden Festival next week. For three days people from all over the kingdom would be going to the castle to attend the festival and to present their talents to members of the Garden. Accumulating in a grand ball the final night of the festival, where someone would be chosen to join the prestigious program.
People used to marry young, but since the Garden was formed, the average age of marriage increased, until now people would wait until they were thirty. For no one had ever been chosen that had a family. As such most of the people vying for supplies were roughly Violet’s own age, in their twenties or younger. Having been too busy taking care of her step-family and running her late father’s shop, Violet had never had time for courting. And watching the crowd excitedly preparing for the festival was planting a seed of hope she was trying to ignore.
When she reached Kristina’s fabric shop she saw a crowd of women pushing into the small shop, with several pushing against the crowd to leave with their prizes. Violet sighed and braced herself for the chaos before entering the fray herself. After a few moments she managed to get into the shop, the crowd of women was just as thick inside as at the door. Knowing her step-sisters’ taste she made her way to the back of the shop where the flashier fabrics were kept.
A bolt of fabric in the corner caught her eye and she hurriedly pushed her way to it. The magenta chiffon was buried under bolts of paisley and Violet was grateful for her luck at finding it. She held it close to her as she dug through neighboring bolts looking for something green. She was halfway down the next wall when she finally found a forest green silk with the hint of a vine pattern. Satisfied she’d found the primary fabrics for her sisters’ gowns she made her way to the back room of the store. Along the back wall behind the counter, being largely ignored, were the bolts of black. Only those in active mourning wore black normally, but Lady Montre only wore black. Having been widowed twice, when asked she would simply say she was still in mourning, even though both husbands had been dead for over a decade.
Grabbing a black silk, Violet then made her way back to the front of the store, where a tall harried blonde was hurriedly taking money and writing receipts. Waiting her turn patiently, Violet started thinking of designs for gowns with the fabrics she’d found. When it was her turn to check out she stepped up and smiled shyly at Kristina.
“Just these three, the Lady said to tell you to put it on her account.” Violet half shouted over the noise of the crowd. Kristina looked at the bolts in her arms and Violet blushed for no reason she could think of.
“That’s it?” Kristina asked, making a note in her book.
“For now, I’ll come back when it’s calmer for the details,” her blush deepened against her will. She was grateful Kristina didn’t notice as she turned to the next person in line. Embarrassed Violet dashed out of the small shop and quickly walked home, being careful not to let the fabric touch the ground. She berated herself the whole way home for her silliness around Kristina, and forgot it the moment she neared the manor.
The mansion sat on the outskirts of town, the long driveway winding through the trees. As the estate came into sight she held her breath and tried to mentally prepare herself for her family. They mostly pretended she didn’t exist, only on rare occasions, like when needing new gowns on a budget, did they remember her, and only then as a servant. The manor was on the smaller side, her father having made his fortune through travel and trade, not inheritance. The tudor style mansion looked in perfect repair, the front garden was in full bloom and neatly cared for. The large front door shined from fresh polish and many of the windows were open.
Violet veered to the right, going around to the back door. Stepping into the vestibule she squared her shoulders before pushing through the foyer door into the living room. Lady Montre sat reading a paper on the settee and did not glance up at Violet’s entrance. Dahlia was sitting at the table under one window pouring over books, her thick black hair pinned up much like her mothers. Peony sat in the light of the other window, painting the view of the rose bush through the window, her pale blonde hair loose around her. Both girls looked up when Violet entered but only Peony reacted, squealing in glee and rushing over to snatch the magenta fabric from Violet. Dahlia sighed and marked her place as her mother looked up at Peony.
Her face remained stony as she watched her youngest hold the fabric to herself and spin around. Her gaze turned to Violet and she motioned her forward. Violet approached, placing the bolts on the low table in the center of the sitting area. Dahlia came over then and sat next to her mother, her hand tracing over the pattern pressed into the green silk.
“These are perfect, keep mine simple, but the girls need to stand out.” Lady Montre said as she returned to her reading.
Violet looked at Dahlia, “I had some ideas.”
Violet spent the rest of the evening discussing with both sisters their gowns and taking measurements. Between which she did a quick sketch she showed Lady Montre, who only nodded and retired to her room, clearly irritated by the noise. When Violet finally returned to her own room in the attic she had several sketches of each of the three gowns with notes throughout. She dumped the sketches and bolts of fabric on the large table before shedding her dress and crawling into bed. She fell asleep imagining herself in a magnificent gown dancing with Kristina.
-
Days went by in a blur, during which Violet spent her time working on the gowns after doing her morning chores. At first it was a welcome break from the shop, but the pressure quickly got to her as Peony kept checking on her constantly and demanding alterations to the design. When she was finally satisfied with the muslin pattern, Violet returned to the fabric shop.
Entering, she found only a few women browsing, Kristina nowhere in sight. She blushed as she chided herself for her excitement at seeing the merchant and began browsing for her supplies. She was picking through the ribbons when the tall blonde came out of the back room, her arms full of bolts of fabric. Before Violet could offer aid Kristina had dumped the bolts onto the counter. She continued looking through the ribbon as she pondered how to initiate a conversation. She knew Kristina was several years older than her and largely viewed her as a child still, but she couldn’t help her crush. She also knew Kristina had hardened her heart after her engagement ended and her previous village had largely shunned her when she first transitioned.
Having found the last of her supplies, Violet approached the counter and gently laid out her purchases. Kristina’s back was to her as she put bolts on the wall and Violet nervously touched at her hair, smoothing it. When Kristina finally noticed her, Violet was blushing slightly and smoothing her dress, she instantly stopped when she saw she was being watched. Kristina smiled down at her as she stepped up to the counter.
“Did you find everything you needed?” Kristina asked.
“Yes I think so,” Violet responded too quickly and winced.
Kristina’s smile widened slightly and she began to write up the receipt for the pile of ribbons and fabrics. Violet stared down at her hands as Kristina placed the smaller items in a paper bag. “Am I adding these to your account or are you paying today?” Kristina asked as she wrote up the total.
“Oh, right, yes, the account please,” Violet stammered, her blush deepening. “I mean please add them to her account.”
Kristina chuckled at her as she agreed and wished her a good day when another customer approached the counter. Violet was grateful for the excuse to rush off and grabbed her purchases. When she stepped outside she took a deep breath and berated herself for her embarrassing display. The encounter lingered in her mind even after she returned to the manor and resumed working on the gowns.
The day before the festival was to begin Violet was doing a final fitting for Dahlia’s gown as Peony twirled in front of the mirror in hers, the Lady Montre was reading on the settee.
“Please be careful, there are still pins in the bodice.” Violet said absently to Peony. A cold dread filled her as she realized her mistake too late.
“I beg your pardon,” Lady Montre said coldly. “You just spent half an hour pining it on her and you think she doesn’t know there are pins in it.”
Violet withdrew immediately, her eyes lowered and her hands at her sides. “Of course not, my lady. I just…”
“You just what,” Lady Montre cut her off.
“I just,” Violet stammered, “I just meant to remind her…sometimes she forgets things…I didn’t mean to imply anything.”
Lady Montre rose and approached Violet, towering over her. “You didn’t mean to imply what exactly?”
Violet sank to the floor, Dahlia hadn’t moved, equally frozen in place by her mother’s cold anger.
“I didn’t mean to imply anything, my lady.”
Lady Montre stared down at her silently for so long Violet’s fear grew exponentially. She knew Lady Montre’s anger worsened with time.
“Mayhaps I’ve been too lenient with you of late, for you to think you can be so…uppity.” Violet didn’t look up as Lady Montre returned to her seat, confusion filling her. It was true, lately they largely ignored Violet unless they wanted something. The lady’s fits of rage at her had been lessening in frequency, Violet assumed it was just lack of regular contact. “The festival begins tomorrow,” Violet looked up, “and you are not to leave this house unless directly instructed.”
Violet had not been overly concerned about going, but being told she couldn’t suddenly made her want to more than anything. Violet didn’t even know what to say to plead her case. She knew the lady wouldn’t care what she had to say, even if she reminded her it was against the law to keep someone from presenting. She had been locked in the attic before without food for days, and did not wish to do so again. So she said nothing and after a moment she rose and continued pinning Dahlia’s sleeves to her bodice.
That night when she returned to her room, she hoped Rayana wouldn’t be too upset that she couldn’t go with her, and couldn’t even tell her.
-
When Violet woke the first day of the festival, she lay in her bed staring out the window. The sun was rising and she knew she had chores, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t remember the last time she let herself sleep in. Her step-family would be at the festival, but the servants would tell Lady Montre if Violet left. She rolled out of bed slowly, sitting on the edge she watched as the sun slowly rose until it was fully above the trees.
Sighing she finally stood to ready for the day, dressing herself slowly. For no other reason than lack of things to do she decided to finish the dresses. She stitched Dahlia’s sleeves to the bodice and tightened the waist. Peony’s gown took up the rest of the morning and several hours of the afternoon as she finished the hem and embellished the bodice with beading. She was disappointed to find herself finished mid afternoon and wasn’t sure what to do with the rest of her day. She finally decided to spend the afternoon in her garden and left the girl’s gowns in their rooms as she headed downstairs and out the back door.
The door opened onto a large patio with a couple sets of small tables with metal chairs. The patio was walled in by waist high rose bushes, meticulously trimmed. Beyond the rose bushes were rows and rows of other flowers with paths winding between them. Violet ignored these and continued past the flowers, through another line of rose bushes with a little gate, and into the vegetable gardens hidden far from the house. Here she rolled up her sleeves and set to work weeding and trimming various plants, down one row and up the next.
Hours had passed when she finally sat back on her heels, her stomach informing her she had yet to eat that day. Unwilling to return to the house, she plucked a fat tomato from a nearby vine, and after wiping it on her skirt, took a bite. The juice ran down her chin and she sighed finally content with the day. She took her prize and went to sit under one of the many trees surrounding the garden. She sat there long after finishing her tomato, contemplating how she was going to go defy her step-mother and attend the festival. If only for the sake of proving to herself she wasn’t a slave.
