Chapter 176: Silk and Steel

Chapter 176: Chapter 176: Silk and Steel

In the carriage, as it rolled smoothly through the streets of Caelvyr, Elysia’s thoughts drifted back to her previous life.

The Marchioness had been at that year’s Autumn Hunt as well. Elysia had not spoken with her then, but she had heard what happened.

The Marchioness’s horse had suddenly bolted. She had been thrown hard onto the stony ground and had spent weeks recovering in bed.

At the time, everyone said the horse had simply gone wild.

But Elysia had seen that same horse later, standing quietly in the royal stables, as gentle as a lamb.

Less than two years later, the Marchioness was dead.

Eventually, Elysia had discovered that someone had arranged it. But by then, it had been far too late to change anything.

Now, sitting across from her, Elysia wondered whether that bolting horse had been the first attempt.

If it had, then whoever was behind it had simply waited and tried again.

The Marchioness was chatting cheerfully about colours and cuts, with no idea what was going through Elysia’s mind.

Elysia’s fingers curled slowly in her lap.

Not this time.

She, too, had suffered a bitter defeat at that Autumn Hunt.

But this time, neither of them would fall.

The carriage came to a stop on Cloudmere Lane.

The Marchioness took Elysia’s hand and helped her down herself, as though Elysia were the one who needed looking after.

Elysia looked up at the shopfront and recognised it at once.

The Silver Spindle.

It was the finest dressmaker in Caelvyr. Its gowns were spoken of in every drawing room in the capital, and its prices only in lowered voices.

As a girl, Elysia had come here once a year at most, holding her mother’s hand. After she married Vaelen in her previous life, she had never set foot inside it again.

She had heard that he brought Deborah here instead.

"Take your time," the Marchioness said, ushering her through the door. "Choose whatever you like."

A clerk hurried over, beaming. "Welcome, my lady. How may I help you today?"

"Riding attire," the Marchioness said. "The best you have."

He led them into the inner room, where a long rail held fitted riding habits in every shade. Deep green, dove grey, midnight blue, and a soft pale blue that caught Elysia’s eye at once.

The Marchioness, however, had stopped in front of a deep crimson set.

Elysia looked at it for a moment.

When she was ten, she had owned a riding habit in almost exactly that colour. She had worn it to the race grounds so often that her mother despaired of the mud on its hem, and she had kept wearing it until the sleeves no longer reached her wrists.

She smiled. "Aunt, that one would suit you beautifully."

"Me?" The Marchioness looked at it, then at her. "I’m here for your wardrobe, not mine."

"Then try it on for my sake. I’d like to see it."

The Marchioness did not need much persuading. She took the crimson set towards the fitting room, pausing only long enough to point a finger at Elysia.

"Choose properly while I’m gone. I’ll know if you pick only one."

"I’ll choose very carefully," Elysia promised.

She had barely lifted the pale blue habit from the rail when voices drifted in from the outer room.

Young women. Several of them, laughing and talking all at once.

"...they say the Lord Chancellor has been entrusted with all the arrangements for the Autumn Hunt this year. Even the grand prize."

"His Majesty must trust the Corvis family a great deal."

Elysia’s fingers stilled on the fabric.

In her previous life, Gideon Corvis had arranged that year’s hunt as well. And at the end of it, with her knee screaming beneath her and every breath coming hard, Elysia had still lost to Deborah.

"Oh, it’s nothing like that," came a soft, modest voice. "Someone has to take on the trouble. My father simply happened to be the one."

Elysia did not need to turn around to know who it was.

The curtain to the inner room swept aside, and Deborah stepped through, flanked by Elise Grandier and Clarissa Davenport.

The moment the two girls saw Elysia, the colour left their faces. They had not forgotten the last time they had crossed the Duchess of Draevenor, or the Duke who had recited each of their fathers’ names to them.

Deborah recovered first.

"Your Grace," she said, with a light, pleasant smile. "What a lovely surprise."

She stepped forward to curtsy, and Elysia noticed that she was very careful to keep her weight off her right foot.

The left ankle, which Deborah had been so certain was injured at the banquet, seemed to have made a full recovery.

"Miss Corvis."

"Well?" Deborah glanced at her companions. "Aren’t you going to greet Her Grace?"

Elise and Clarissa curtsied hastily.

A new bracelet gleamed on each of Deborah’s wrists. As she straightened, she turned them slightly so that they caught the light from the window.

Something about the gesture tugged at Elysia’s memory.

In her previous life, Deborah had come to the Crown Prince’s Wing one afternoon wearing bracelets just like these, turning her wrists in the light in the same way.

I already have more than I can wear. Shall I spare you a pair?

You’re the Crown Princess, after all. It’s a little embarrassing if you don’t even own a decent bracelet.

Elysia had smiled and thanked her that day.

She did not smile now.

"Are you here for riding attire as well, Your Grace?" Deborah asked.

"Yes."

"Really?" Deborah tilted her head. "I’d have thought a Hartwell would have a wardrobe full of riding habits." She paused, as though something had only just occurred to her. "Oh. Of course, I almost forgot about your knee."

She turned to Elise and Clarissa, her voice softening with sympathy.

"Did you know? When Her Grace was a girl, she threw herself in front of a runaway cart to save His Highness. She hasn’t been able to ride since." She sighed. "It must be so hard. All of that, and now..."

She let the sentence trail away and smiled, as though she had said nothing at all.

The two girls exchanged uneasy glances.

Elysia looked at Deborah steadily.

In her previous life, those words would have found their mark. She would have gone home and lain awake, turning them over in her mind until her heart bled.

But she had pushed Vaelen out of that cart’s path for the boy he had been back then.

That boy no longer existed.

All that remained of her choice was a knee that ached before rain, and Doctor Grey was mending even that.

There was nothing left in it for Deborah to wound.

"Please, Your Grace," Deborah went on warmly, "let me buy you a set. Consider it my thanks. If not for your help, His Highness might not be here to marry me at all."

She smiled.

"And once we’re married, I’ll have to call you Aunt. It’s only right that I take care of you."

She mentioned Vaelen again and again, watching Elysia’s face for a crack.

There was none.

Instead, Elysia shook her head slowly.

"I don’t believe you’d actually buy it for me."

"If I say I will, then I will," Deborah said at once.

The moment the words left her mouth, she froze.

Elysia turned to Elise and Clarissa.

"You both heard that, didn’t you? Miss Corvis has offered to buy my riding attire."

The two girls looked at each other. Then, very reluctantly, they nodded.

"That isn’t what I—" Deborah began.

Elysia had already turned to the clerk.

"I’ll take every riding habit in this room. Miss Corvis will be paying."

The clerk blinked. "Every... every one, Your Grace?"

"Every one. Including the crimson set my aunt is trying on."

The clerk’s face lit up as though the sun had risen inside the shop. "At once, Your Grace!"

Deborah’s eyes widened.

The habits on that rail were among the most expensive things the Silver Spindle sold. Together, they would cost a small fortune. She had not brought anywhere near enough.

"Your Grace, I didn’t mean—"

"You’re truly generous, Miss Corvis," Elysia said, with every appearance of sincere admiration. "And a woman of your word. His Highness is very fortunate."

Deborah’s cheeks burned.

Set after set was folded and wrapped while the clicking of an abacus filled the room. When the clerk finally announced the total, Deborah swayed on her feet.

For once, she did not have to pretend.

"For anyone else, it would be a great deal," Elysia said thoughtfully. "But for the future Crown Princess, I’m sure it’s nothing." She smiled at Deborah. "Isn’t it?"

Deborah’s smile looked as though it might crack.

"Of course."

At that moment, the fitting-room curtain drew back, and the Marchioness stepped out in deep crimson.

Elysia had been right. It suited her beautifully.

The Marchioness looked around. The long rail stood completely empty, and the clerks were stacking parcels by the door.

"Did we come to the wrong shop?"

"Aunt." Elysia’s eyes brightened. "Miss Corvis insisted on buying me riding attire. She was so generous that she bought the entire room. Yours as well."

The Marchioness looked at Deborah, rigid and pale beside the empty rail. Then she looked at Elysia, whose expression was all innocent delight.

She understood at once.

"How thoughtful," she said. "I had meant to pay for my niece’s riding attire myself."

A flicker of hope crossed Deborah’s face.

"But since the future Crown Princess wishes to honour her aunt by marriage, it would be terribly rude of me to stand in her way."

The hope died.