“No, actually, those only mean there is wind in the higher elevations. Magical storms turn the clouds into churning heaps that look like shorn wool piled for the market. Or they descend like funnels.”
“Interesting. And are there any other indicators you watch for up in the tower?”
I nod and catch my hood as it tries to slip off my horns. “The scent. Storms with magic give the air a smell similar to sage.”
“Huh, I never noticed that, even after living here for so long. Guess I’m clueless about everything outside of yarn.” She laughs at herself good-naturedly.
I shrug. “It’s not your job.”
We pass a group of travelers gathered outside the bakery, and Laini pales slightly. They look our way, whispering behind their hands andturning slightly in a pathetic attempt to look like they’re not talking about us. They definitely are.
“It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s my…” I jab a thumb at my hidden wings.
Laini’s color returns, pink flushing her cheeks as she shoots a glare at the visitors. “I am sorry some folks are rude, Rom. Your posture isn’t any of their business. You are perfect, too.”
I can’t help but smile at her fierce tone. It’s rather gargoyle-like, that protective mood. Hmm. And from the way she said that I’m guessing she doesn’t realize I have wings hidden under here instead of a hunched back. Well, she’ll likely find out at the tailor’s. I can’t keep my secret much longer. I will enjoy what I can before the reveal and then retreat to my solo life in the tower if she decides to break off our party plans. It would be for the best anyway.
“Thank you, Laini,” I say, tasting her name on my tongue. I want to whisper it into her ear, to let her know how special she is.
Maybe we can be friends. If I don’t get too close, and if I can subdue the attraction I feel for her, maybe I could be less alone.
She gives me the loveliest smile, and Spark flits from her shoulderto mine. Grinning, she scratches the underside of the dragonfox’s snout, and he purrs louder than a cart with a four-horse team.
I laugh. “Well, he isn’t a quiet one.”
“Nope. He’ll have to stay outside while we are with the tailor because of his noisy nature and his propensity for setting things on fire.”
We reach the workshop, and Laini takes Spark from my shoulder and places him under the fading rosebush to the side of the gold-painted door. Under a swinging sign with a needle and thread, we walk into the tailor’s place. It’s full of townsfolk doing the same thing we are—securing a matching set of clothes for the Harvest Party. All conversation dies as we shut the door.
Placing a hand on Laini’s lower back to ease her through the crowd, I lean down to whisper. “The two hermits out of their holes has to be jarring for them.”
She shakes with a quiet laugh, and the other folks go back to their laces, bolts of fabric, and conversations.
Behind a desk, a female water sprite with small purple wings and blue, wavy hair lifts a hand in greeting. She’s not tall enough to peer over the desk, so she hovers, flapping her wings gracefully.Perhaps she is half pixie. “Join me in the back room, if you will?”
Keeping a hand on Laini, who is red-faced and quite clearly nervous, I steer us in the direction the sprite went. Once we reach the room—a place thankfully empty of anyone else—I step away from Laini. I don’t want to give her the wrong idea, plus she didn’t seem happy about me touching her.
The sprite sets an array of linen, wool, and silk on the table in the center of the room. “Good morning, I’m Plum. One of the Leafshire River sprites and the shop owner’s new lead tailor.”
Laini nods. “I’ve heard great things about your talent.”
Plum smiles. “Just tell me what draws your eye, and we will go from there.”
The sprite adds a few samples of embroidered somethings. I know nothing about fashion or what one wears to this town’s Harvest Party.
Laini studies the fabrics and finally touches one of the embroidered things. “I love this wheat design. Since it’s gold, maybe this dark blue would work with it?” She turns to me. “What do you think? Your skin would look nice next to that blue, I think.”
“I feel like one of your tapestry projects,” I say in a teasing tone.
She snickers. “In a way, you are.”
“Would you please remove your cloak?” Plum asks me.
“I…” I glance at the crowd just beyond the door.
Laini seems to read my mind because she goes to the door and slides the heavy black curtain across the archway. “Is that better? Is that okay, Plum?”
“Definitely,” the sprite says.
