Chapter 11: Dull As Sackcloth.

Chapter 11

The carriage rolled steadily through the capital streets beneath the dimmed light of morning, its wheels gliding over polished stone roads still damp from the silver mist that lingered over the city. Beyond the velvet curtains, the kingdom had already awakened fully into motion.

Merchants stood outside their storefronts arranging flowers, bolts of fabric, and trays of pastries while servants hurried between crowded avenues carrying baskets balanced carefully against their hips. Noble carriages decorated with gilded crests passed by at measured pace while children darted recklessly through narrow alleyways laughing loudly enough to draw irritated glances from nearby guards. The entire capital seemed alive in a way the Beaufort estate never was, vibrant and constantly moving like a living thing breathing beneath the early dawn.

Lilith remained seated opposite Sigrid with the secured box resting carefully across her lap, her posture straight despite the visible curiosity flickering through her expression every few seconds whenever something outside caught her attention. Neither spoke for some time. The silence between them no longer carried the same discomfort as before. It had settled into something calmer now, something observant.

Sigrid rested one arm lightly against the window frame, her red gaze following the passing streets in silence.

In truth, she had rarely ventured beyond the estate walls in either life.

During her years as the neglected daughter of House Beaufort, she had only ever left to tutor the children of lesser noble families, journeys made out of necessity rather than desire. She had never wandered markets simply to wander, nor visited the capital for amusement like other noble daughters often did. Such things had always appeared foolish to her. Loud. Wasteful. Unnecessary.

Then, after marrying Ragnar, the world beyond palace walls had become even more irrelevant.

As queen, anything she required could simply be brought before her. Jewelers arrived carrying diamonds and gold upon velvet trays. Tailors came directly to her chambers with fabrics imported from distant kingdoms. Musicians performed within the palace halls at command. There had been no need to step outside when the world itself bent inward toward the throne.

And yet now, watching ordinary people smile as they crossed crowded streets beneath the morning sun, she found herself hesitating upon that old belief.

A flower seller laughed as a young man nearly stumbled while attempting to carry far too many bundles at once. Nearby, an elderly couple walked slowly together through the marketplace while arguing over fruit prices with such familiarity it almost resembled affection. Even the nobles passing through the streets appeared lighter outside the suffocating performance of court.

Perhaps, Sigrid thought quietly, it was not as pointless as she once believed.

The carriage slowed gradually before coming to a complete stop.

From outside, the driver’s voice carried respectfully through the window.

"My lady, we have arrived."

Lilith adjusted immediately, securing the box more firmly within her arms before stepping out first. Sigrid followed moments later, silver hair shifting lightly beneath the breeze as her gaze lifted toward the grand building towering before them.

♡Lady Marigold’s Wardrobe.♡

Elegant golden lettering curved across the polished black sign above the entrance while tall glass windows displayed gowns so intricate they resembled pieces of art rather than clothing. Noblewomen entered and exited constantly accompanied by attendants burdened beneath layers of wrapped fabric and decorative boxes. Even the exterior alone radiated wealth powerful enough to rival lesser noble houses.

Lilith stared openly upward in awe.

"This is where we came?" she asked carefully, still clutching the secured box. "For clothing?"

Sigrid glanced toward her faintly amused expressionless face softening just slightly.

"Yes."

They entered together beneath the chiming sound of silver bells fixed above the doors. Warmth immediately enveloped them alongside the rich scent of perfume, pressed velvet, and polished cedarwood. The boutique bustled with noble daughters accompanied by mothers, attendants, and seamstresses moving between displays carrying gowns draped carefully over their arms. Dresses of every imaginable shade filled the vast showroom beneath glittering chandeliers. Embroidered silks shimmered beneath golden light while jewels sewn into bodices reflected against polished mirrors lining the walls.

Lilith turned slowly in place unable to disguise her amazement.

Her wide eyes traveled from gown to gown with visible wonder, lingering especially upon dresses decorated with intricate beadwork and delicate lace finer than anything likely sold beyond the capital itself.

Sigrid noticed immediately.

So this truly was Lilith’s first time somewhere like this.

For a brief moment, something almost thoughtful crossed her gaze before disappearing again beneath composed indifference.

"My lady," Lilith asked quietly after a moment, "which design would you prefer?"

Sigrid examined the nearest collection briefly before shaking her head.

"None of these."

Lilith blinked in surprise.

"But they are beautiful," she insisted softly. "Surely these are among the finest gowns within the kingdom."

"Beautiful, yes," Sigrid admitted calmly. "But I did not come here for beautiful. I came for the best."

Her gaze drifted across the boutique once more before suddenly settling upon a young woman standing near one of the hanging displays. Unlike the others surrounding her, the woman did not appear enchanted by the gowns. Instead she observed one particularly elaborate dress with narrowed eyes and visible dissatisfaction.

Sigrid smiled faintly.

"Aha."

Without further explanation she moved toward the stranger, Lilith hurrying after her nervously.

Sigrid stopped beside the woman and studied the displayed gown alongside her.

"The craftsmanship is lovely," she remarked casually. "Do you not think so?"

The woman beside her gave a slight hum.

"I suppose," she replied. "Though the refinement weakens near the edges. The hemline is too short for proper balance and the beadwork along the sleeves borders dangerously close to vulgarity. It lacks restraint."

Sigrid’s smile deepened almost imperceptibly.

"Yes," she agreed. "The sleeves truly are dreadful."

The woman glanced sideways now with newfound interest.

"So you agree the dress is not particularly impressive?" she asked. "I have spent the entire morning listening to women praise it as though it descended directly from the heavens."

"I think the gown itself is lovely," Sigrid corrected mildly. "However this is clearly not an original Marigold design. It lacks her arrogance. Her work never apologizes for existing. This imitation is far too dull."

A pause followed.

Then slowly the woman turned fully toward her.

For the first time Sigrid properly observed her sharp amber eyes and dark curls pinned loosely beneath a jeweled comb.

The woman studied her carefully before speaking.

"Dull," she repeated thoughtfully.

Sigrid’s lips curved faintly.

"As sackcloth."

The woman’s eyes widened instantly before sudden laughter escaped her.

"Follow me."

Without another word she turned sharply and began walking toward the rear staircase hidden behind hanging velvet curtains. Sigrid followed immediately while Lilith hurried after them gripping the box nervously as they descended toward the lower level of the building.

The atmosphere shifted entirely downstairs.

Unlike the polished grandeur above, this level resembled the beating heart of creation itself. Sketches littered massive wooden tables beside scattered ribbons, needles, measuring cords, unfinished corsets, and mannequins draped in half-completed designs. Rolls of imported fabric lined the walls while several seamstresses worked quietly in corners surrounded by silver pins and loose gemstones waiting to be sewn into place.

The woman moved toward a cluttered desk before turning back toward Sigrid with narrowed curiosity.

"How did you know that phrase?"

Sigrid tilted her head slightly.

"’Dull as sackcloth?’" she repeated. "I once heard it spoken by a woman so dramatic she insulted an entire duchess because her gown resembled funeral curtains."

The woman burst into laughter again.

"And who exactly was this fearless woman?"

Sigrid finally smiled properly now.

"That eccentric woman," she continued calmly, "being yourself, Lady Marigold."

Beside her, Lilith nearly dropped the box in shock.