Boldly, Summer said, glancing at Cora before she took the princess’ hand, “Oh, you won’t be coming after all? What a shame. I was looking forward to your commentary.”
Before Isaac could respond, both girls giggled, and Cora whisked Summer out the door and out of the house.
Rafael reappeared. “Master Isaac, his Highness requests your attendance as soon as possible at the castle.”
“Don’t be ridic — ” He began a protest, before noting that his words fell on deaf ears and he sighed dramatically. Eyeing them both curiously as they stepped out of the room, he wondered what mischief they would wreak on the poor unsuspecting townspeople, and found himself wincing sympathetically on their behalf.
He hadn’t had much time to relax before Rafael disturbed his momentary solitude and he nodded, murmuring his thanks before beginning the short walk up to the castle.
It was hard to feel embarrassed, shy, or lowly around Cora’s sharp exuberance. The princess hardly gave Summer time to get a word in edgewise in the beginning, rapidly explaining a great deal of information Isaac either didn’t have or hadn’t seen fit to give her. She didn’t wind down until the two of them were in the hands of the castle seamstress, Cynthia, who didn’t seem inclined to put up with idle chatter.
The two of them at least listened to Summer’s opinions on what she wanted to wear, but the only ones they seemed to take into account were colour preferences. After four hours of fittings and measurements and fabrics and dresses held here and pinned there, accepted or discarded, the redhead was exhausted, and yet, she scolded herself, all she had done was stand.
Still, she’d stood stiff and straight while being prodded and poked, and it was just as well Isaac had not come with them, for the women had stripped her to the skin and would not give back any of the clothing she’d come with. Cora’s face had been a study in horror when Summer explained she only had three dresses, and one was for feast-days only. Cynthia merely clucked her tongue. Now she had seven, four for every-day and three for formal occasions, in what seemed every color of the rainbow. She flatly refused to allow gems or lace or expensive stuffs, and so she sat with the ladies for the afternoon picking out gold and silver embroidery from Cora’s donated dresses.
Summer had been much relieved to discover that spinning and weaving were just as much a part of the daily lives of high ladies as they were of serf women, though the materials used were much different. She put on the plainest of the dresses that were now hers, though slate blue lined with paler blue and draping sleeves seemed very fine to her. Cora had already insisted that when it came time for dinner, they would change, and she had heard the women mutter something about catching Isaac’s eye.
She was fairly sure that her red hair would catch everyone’s eye, against the deep blue of the gown Cora planned her to wear.
