Chapter 1
The bad rain had stopped three days ago, or so the local weather forecasters in the kingdom had said. Ever since the Weavers of Alkean those who carried the Ice Weave had been forbidden from displaying their cursed gift, no one had been able to forecast the weather quite right. The skies had become as unpredictable as the people who lived beneath them, and everyone had learned to carry an umbrella even when the sun was shining.
Eudora stood outside the cottage in her royal servant's house gown, its heavy linen falling in plain, graceful folds to her ankles. The dark fabric was modest and worn from years of work, gathered neatly at the waist with a narrow belt and covered at the front by a simple apron. Its long sleeves fitted closely around her wrists, while her hair was pinned firmly at the back of her head, leaving her face clear.
The bakery bell rang for the third time.
Eudora's eyes widened.
“Oh, no.”
She hurried into the cottage, nearly stumbling through the doorway. Her aunt, Celia, sat near the window, busy weaving wool into a blanket that would hopefully sell before the next market day.
“Sorry, ma'am. I have to get going.” Eudora leaned down and kissed her aunt's cheek before reaching for the broken umbrella made from thin pieces of wood and old polythene. “I am definitely late. I'll see you when I get back.”
“Eudora.”
She stopped.
“You forgot to eat lunch again.”
Celia dropped the finished blanket onto her lap and looked at her properly. Her eyes moved from Eudora's tired face to the small sack hanging from her shoulder.
“And what's that you're hiding in your sack?”
Eudora immediately pulled it closer to herself.
Celia sighed. “You're growing beautiful, my baby, but you're working yourself too hard. One of these days you'll catch a cold and collapse from hunger. What would I say to your mother when I finally meet her?”
Eudora scoffed as she reached for the door.
“Just tell her she forgot to leave enough coins for me to have a decent life.”
Celia stared at her.
Eudora's expression softened.
“I'm sorry, Aunt. But you know it's almost that time of the year. Your blankets will be useful at the palace, and I'm sure you'll sell them quickly. But that still doesn't mean I shouldn't get going.”
Celia's eyes narrowed.
“What's in the sack?”
“Nothing.”
“Eudora.”
“It's—” She hesitated. “It's my new apron. I got a new one yesterday.”
Celia slowly stood.
“A new apron?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you squeezing the sack like you're hiding a dead cat inside it?”
Eudora froze.
Celia reached for the sack.
Eudora pulled it away.
“Auntie—”
“Give it to me.”
“I'm already late.”
“And I'm already suspicious.”
Eudora stared at her aunt for a moment before a nervous smile crept across her face.
Then the bakery bell rang again outside.
Her smile disappeared.
“Oh, I'm finished.”
She grabbed her umbrella and ran.
Behind her, Celia stood holding the unfinished blanket, watching the door swing shut.
Then she looked at the sack Eudora had refused to surrender.
“An apron,” she muttered.
Celia shook her head.
“That girl has never known how to lie.”
