The dress was coming along slowly but surely. For every moment I would feel comfortable that I may finish it properly in time, I was bombarded with a thousand more moments of fear that I was out of my depth, that I had decided too late and wouldn’t finish in time. Those fears bade me into panic: designing, cutting, and stitching. The days were bleeding together and I was beginning to see my fabric scissors every time I closed my eyes.

Considering I had designed and sewn together hundreds of dresses before, there were far too many crumpled designs shoved under my bed. But the hardest part had been cutting out the fabric. I had to be careful because I wouldn’t get a second chance if I cut too little, but my mother would definitely notice if I took up an entire bolt of white linen. My only saving grace was how bloody busy we were. My mother had scarce enough time to say hello to me in the morning, nevertheless question my activities. There were, at estimation, around 600 people living in our village. At least a hundred of them wanted new dresses and could only afford us, or cheaper. Most women knew how to sew their own dresses, out of necessity, but there was an edge of ornamentation and embroidery that only a lifetime professional had. This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance, after all.

But there was no way that we’d be able to do that many as two people. If both of us worked practically day and night maybe—maybe we’d be able to finish 30 in the time we had. So my mother was trying to organize which ones would bring in the most money. That meant choosing the women with more connections, or the prettiest girls that had the best chances of attracting attention at the ball.  

It was too much work. Too much for my mother and too much for me. I had to take a walk. Or at least that was my excuse. My mother hadn’t been happy about it but relented as I’d handed her over an almost completed gown that just needed some edge work. She knew the better embroidery patterns and everyone wanted more elaborate skirt edges. With the Queen’s newest inclination to shorter skirts and jewel-encrusted boots, that was what everyone would be focused on. 

I’d gotten up earlier than usual to make sure Mother saw I’d finished another dress. I don’t think she’d slept at all. When I got back home, I was going to tell her to get some sleep. It felt hard for me as well. I had to make up the time I spent on Ella’s dress by finishing the others even quicker. And when I did sleep, I had strange dreams or woke up restless. Was everything I was doing enough? How much time did I have? If I somehow failed, I’d have only brought Ella to the wolves and her step-family would never forget or forgive. Why was she even trusting me to do this?

So, I walked with a goal. I wanted to find that strange trader. I paused and reached out to touch a bare branch that still had frost on it. The mornings were getting colder and it was getting harder to melt away the chill. Soon, it wouldn’t be gone at all, and we’d be buried in snow. That was part of the rush; our business slowed considerably in the winter. No one wanted new dresses during the winter, and if they needed a coat, they tended to just buy furs and sew them themselves. If we were lucky, the Church might order a few things for us. But it was a hard season. 

“Elanora’s Esther,” The man I seemed to keep running into greeted. I’d intended on looking around the market for him, but it felt like I’d summoned him out of thin air. He had a single-man pull-cart behind him. The sort one used to transport small goods. I spotted a familiar bag of local flour and could only assume he’d been to see the miller’s son. My cheeks flushed from the morning cold, but also from the fact I rather liked the sound of ‘Elanora’s Esther’ on the stranger’s lips. I tried not to look eager. “I didn’t know if I would be seeing you again or not.” The same hat sat on his head but he’d replaced his coat with a thicker wool one. It was impressively sturdy looking. Well-bound. He wasn’t wearing gloves today either, which I found strange due to the weather. 

“Good morning,” I greeted, not wanting to be discourteous. “I don’t think I ever caught your name, Sir…?” The thought of calling anyone “Sir” was irritating but I had less than one silver on me. I even tried a friendly smile. 

His teeth were shockingly white as he bore them to me in an enthused smile in return. 

“Auden,” He said in a way where I didn’t know if that was his given or family name. “What can I do for you, Miss Esther?” 

I didn’t like the way that he used my name as though we were familiar. I didn’t like the way he assumed I wanted something. Did I play coy? Did I pretend I hadn’t been looking for him? But I just cleared my throat. I was always bartering at our marketer over buttons or fabrics, but he made me nervous. I should have felt relieved that I’d run into him before the crowd of the people I grew up with could watch us. Yet, I didn’t. We were surrounded by the familiar houses of my childhood, if I listened carefully I could hear the usual chatter from the market. Yet, I felt claustrophobic. I tugged roughly at my little finger as I tried to find something to center my gaze on that wasn’t his face. 

"I had remembered that you said you had little odds and ends to sell. I was looking for crystal beads? Or paillettes, perhaps?” Something I could stitch to the center of the fabric flowers to give them body and contrast. Just saying it out loud, knowing how little in the way of money I had, sounded absurd. “Dark blue ones or white.” Colors that would catch the light from the castle chandeliers and stand out against the silver-blue tulle. 

Auden made a satisfied sound. 

“For the tulle, yes?” 

“No,” I said immediately because it felt like he’d read my thoughts. Then I shook my head. Why was I lying? “I mean–yes, I–” I stumbled with the words. Who was he going to tell? My mother? She was too busy to even go out. There was no need to be nervous. “Yes, Sir–”

“Auden.”

“Auden,” I corrected. “I’m making a dress with that tulle. And that handsome fabric you’d picked out, thank you,” I tried to sound gracious. I was gracious, in a way. He’d matched them very nicely. “I’m embroidering flowers onto it and–”

“How time-consuming,” He said in such an awed tone that it felt insincere. Or mocking. 

“And–” I continued as I tried not to sound cross. “I wanted to sew crystals or something into them so they–”

“Stand out,” He finished with a smile that looked… supportive? “Along the skirt, I assume. Everyone’s talking about the Queen’s new trend.”

It was exhausting just talking to this man. He seemed to have to respond to everything with such vigor. I couldn’t help but pause to press the back of my fingers to my mouth. The edge of my tongue rolled against my molars to keep my teeth from grinding. Be nice, be nice, and smile. 

If I was outwardly rude, he didn’t seem to notice or care. He brought out a red wooden box from his cart, and I swore I could still smell the cedar notes as he opened it, and started picking through it. The sound of jingling metal came from the box, and curiosity wanted me to peek, so I took a brave step closer to him. Before I could, he leaned closer to whisper conspiratorially. 

“Is this for young Elanora?” He was not the first nosy trader I’d met who never stopped asking questions. But he was certainly my least favorite thus far. 

“Yes,” I stated. It seemed the path of least resistance to simply answer his questions as briefly as possible. No need to feed into whatever fun he was having. 

The smile he had thinned somewhat at my answer. I was unsure if it was my tone or the answer itself that brought about his silence. Maybe he didn’t like when people didn’t play whatever game he was playing. But we both simply stood there as he searched about his small box of wares. I couldn’t imagine that was all he had to sell, but I certainly wasn’t inclined to ask what his primary peddling was. I was no stranger to silence and if anything, I preferred it to his insistent nature. One box closed and he brought out another. They all looked rather similar and if I had been in a better mood, I might have found this mysterious trader to be interesting. If Ella was with me, we might have questioned him about all the different places he’d been. It’d be much more fun than this. 

“What do you think of these?” Auden asked as he held out his palm. “Just colored beads but they may suit your flowers.” I spared him a brief twist of my lips as I plucked one of the beads from his hand. They were glass, which would catch light and shadows well. A tad darker than the sky blue the fabric was. It would be better than just flat flowers. And if it was too transparent it wouldn’t be seen at all. I turned the twist into a smile–a sheepish one. 

“I don’t have much… We’re not a wealthy village, you know.” Outside of the main traders and landowners, he wasn’t going to find riches trading here. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” He replied with a cooled amusement. “And just what is it that you have?”