The one thing I could depend on in my home with my mother was silence. I had all the quiet I wanted as I stitched lacing on the inside of a sleeve. The other thing I could depend on is my mother’s relative indifference. When I had gotten home, safely in my bed once more, I hadn’t expected to sleep well. And I didn’t. The whole night was tossing and turning. For most of the night, I didn’t even bother to try to close my eyes as I had strange dreams of trolls and reflections. 

Mother didn’t ask about my puffy, bloodshot eyes. If anything, I think she was just satisfied I was helping with the dresses again. They were still lovely without magic. As Maggie had said, there weren’t guarantees, right? So why try on a vague chance that I might change something? I had the same probability as I would staying at home.  

“Do you think the drought is serious?” I asked, knowing that it wasn’t a strange question considering the messenger had been so recent. 

“I’m not sure.” It had always been a little comforting and frustrating that my mother had never been afraid to state when she didn’t know something. She was very satisfied to stay in her role of fabric and sales. “Rains usually come in the spring. We’ll see if there’s much snow this winter. That will probably indicate the season.” 

I looked at our humble little workshop. Did I love it here? Did it feel better than the inside of Maggie’s home? This was the sight I had grown up with. Fabrics were hanging off of lines that my mother had strung up across the ceiling. Long tables with needles, measuring tapes, and chalk. The little basket under the main table was filled with scraps that we could use for other things. I often sneaked away pieces from there for my handkerchiefs and the like. It looked like a basket full of cut grass with all the green fabric we were using. 

“As long as the farms have enough, the village should be fine.” Oddly optimistic for my mother. “But I suppose if it gets too hard, most people will move north.” Occasionally, someone would leave our village to try to prosper elsewhere. The baker’s younger brother had moved closer to the castle in that hope. I wondered briefly how his family was doing. 

There was the temptation to press my mother further about Old Maggie. Had the stories been the same when she was a girl? Had she ever heard about a troll? 

Was there any reason for me to march down to the stone bridge? 

The bell above the door rang out and my mother stood up. It was an excuse to stand up, so I trailed after her to the front. I heard the battle cry of a harpy before I even saw who had arrived. Well, it was the voice of Ella’s stepsisters. But from a distance, the sound could easily be misconstrued with evil, half-bird monstrosities. I saw the glint of delight in Bernia’s eyes when she caught sight of me. Correen simply curled her lip up like an angry hound. 

As we had grown into women, our relationship had become much more balanced. I hated them. They hated me. They hated me because I was poor and because I was Ella’s friend. I hated them because they were vindictive, bloodthirsty demons that quite possibly crawled their way out of Hell with their sharpened nails. 

They almost never came to my mother’s store. We were far too peasant for their high and mighty tastes. Besides, the handful of times we had made dresses for them, I’d jammed a measuring needle right into Bernia’s bottom. On accident, of course. Now, they only used the proper seamstresses for their station unless it was an emergency. 

A stiff panic settled right at the base of my spine. Had they discovered I was working on a dress for Ella? Even if they couldn’t physically stop me from sewing Ella a dress, if they said anything then my mother would find out.

“My apologies, ladies,” my mother said in far too polite a tone for harpies. “I was in the back.”

Correen fanned herself and looked at me instead. She always seemed to try to stare me out of existence or to try and kill me with her stare. “Hardly a way to run a business, Ms. Fleming.” 

I held my breath in and followed my mother behind the counter. Easier to ignore the insults when I was worried I would be exposed. I could lie if I had to but my mother was unlikely to believe me with everything that had been happening lately. Where I expected immediate accusations, Correen seemed happy enough to focus back on my mother. 

“Did you need something commissioned, Lady Neville?” My mother also ignored the blatant insult and went straight to business. “I’m afraid our dress commissions are rather booked at the moment. I don’t think we’d be able to fit anything else in.”

Bernia snorted and leaned forward from behind Correen’s shoulder. “We have our own tailor.”

“Then why are you here?” I asked and my mother pinched the skin of my back. 

It was a reasonable question. They loved telling us about how they were too good for us. That’s why I was usually and blissfully free of their stench from my home. When they were younger, their mother would get dresses from us more often. But now she was rather desperate to get them married as Carreen was twenty and Bernia eighteen. The Missus Neville had a good amount of money from Ella’s father, but no title, and three daughters (even if she barely acknowledged one) would scare off most with a title. And it was that title she wanted most. 

Besides, I’m sure her daughters told her all the time how dreadful I was. 

“What can I do for you, then?” My mother asked. However, I still wasn’t sure that they weren’t just making a big show of revealing that I was moonlighting for Ella. 

Bernia’s upper lip curled up, and it reminded me of the way cows would when they were grazing. I don’t know what I was expecting from the two, usually just rubbish honestly, but it wasn’t the thud of something heavy in a bag. They wouldn’t put a dead bird or something in there. Would they?

“We wanted to see if you had any silks matching these.” 

My eyes nearly went blind from the sparkle. There sat a fine boot of dyed green leather. What else would it be other than emerald-colored? On the side was a huge emblem in either a star or flower-like shape. It was encrusted with clear crystals and two large red stones. I assumed garnet rather than rubies. They had money, but they still weren’t true nobles. A small green gem that I was less familiar with was set beneath it. Peridot, maybe? A matching set of gems sat on top of the toe of the boot. Its lacing and buckles were an assortment of gold buttons and semi-precious stones. It was, much to my horror, beautiful and remarkably in style. Had they had it made in a rush, or had they been incredibly lucky? 

I was beginning to hate the word luck. 

Was I relieved this wasn’t about me and Ella? Yes. But they were both looking at me and I stared at the ceiling instead. Bernia was almost grinning at me, and I didn’t allow myself to be dragged into whatever eye wars she wanted to play. They were here to taunt me. They didn’t care about what fabrics they had. They just wanted to show off their wealth and put me in my place. 

“It’s a lovely boot,” My mother answered diplomatically. She probably didn’t want me saying anything at all so I didn’t for now. “Esther can help you look through our available fabrics.” It was an empty gesture on both sides of the counter. We didn’t generally sell our fabrics, and they could just go to Viola. If anything, she was punishing me for my behavior lately. 

 I hated the wicked way Correen’s eyes glittered at me from behind the lace of her fan as Mother went back into her workshop. Bernia played with one of her curls, looking bored.  

“We don’t have any fabrics that match this,” I said and pushed the boot away.

“Don’t touch that with your filthy hands,” Bernia snapped. 

“We’re going to the ball in these,” Correen said. Shocking. “I know I’ll meet my future husband there.” I flicked at a loose ball of fuzz. “I think I’ll bring Elanora with me once I get married, too.” I tried not to glare at her directly. “Wouldn’t that be nice? She wouldn’t have to live with mother and I could make her a maid.” There were few things that sounded as threatening as that. Especially as Bernia laughed behind her hand. “But if she doesn’t do a good job, I’d have to throw her out.” In the center of my heart, I truly didn’t understand what they got out of this. What inside them was so broken that they needed to make sure I knew they would utterly ruin Ella’s life at the first chance they got. 

My nails weren’t long enough to make a sound as I tapped them against the counter. Was this one more threat hanging over my head? I think they were expecting more of a reaction from me. I think they expected my thoughts to be focused on them, as theirs always were. But I was thinking of far more interesting people who had far more interesting things to say to me. 

Auden’s words ricocheted inside my head. But if you truly want to change the future into what you want it to be, you'll have to take that risk. Maggie’s words hung around as well. For whatever reason is your own.    

When I looked at Correen and Bernia snickering behind their poorly constructed noble masks, desperate to inflict harm, I imagined what their faces would look like shattered as Ella danced with a prince. How would they feel when I made sure Ella was outside of their grasp forever? Who needed green jeweled shoes if I could figure out how to create something with magic?

Was pettiness a good reason to face a troll? 

I think it was.