Dragonskin Slippers by Jessica Day George

though her expression was not unkind.
    “Forgive me, Madam,” I apologised. “I have only just come to work for Mistress Derda, and have not yet made myself a presentable gown. This is the poor farm garb I arrived in.” I had to grit my teeth to say such a thing, since my dress had not been all that mean back home, but I was hoping for a quick escape.
    “Let me have a closer look at that embroidery,” the stately woman said, her tone softening. She snapped her fingers and her maid pulled a pair of green-tinted spectacles from a purse. The woman held them a few inches from her eyes and squinted at my hem. “I have never seen the like.”
    “Er, no, Madam, it is my own design,” I told her, and I held up my skirt a little so that she could see it better.
    “You!”
    My head jerked around and I found myself meeting the princess’s angry gaze. Princess Amalia let her little lapdog, Pippin, down and the creature began happily eating the crumbled cakes that adorned the floor. The princess advanced on me.
    “You’re that awful, clumsy country cow who assaulted me yesterday,” the princess said, pointing a sharp-looking finger. “What are
you
doing
here
?”
    “Some very remarkable embroidery, I hope,” the older woman said, handing her spectacles back to her maid. “I heard about what happened in the marketplaceyesterday, Amalia, and I’m sure it was an accident, so please stop fussing about it.
    “Derda.” The stately woman turned her gaze from the princess, who was gasping like a hooked fish at this injustice, and addressed my employer. “You must have her do something for me. I’ve never seen the like. It’s breathtaking.”
    “Well,” Derda said, coming to my side. “We shall see. I’m afraid the girl is new, and some of this work is not really fit for such as yourself, Your Grace.”
    Not caring if Derda was my employer, or the woman facing me a duchess, I opened my mouth to protest, when Princess Amalia said something that made me wish I had taken Larkin’s warning to heart and not left the backroom.
    “Where did you get those slippers?” The princess’s gaze was fixed firmly on my blue slippers.
    “Er,” I replied, dropping my skirts to cover them. “Er, the cobbler in Carlieff Town?” I wished that it didn’t sound so much like a question.
    “I
must
have some, they’re beautiful,” the princess said. “
Too
beautiful for a countrified shopgirl.”
    “We can send someone to Carlieff Town for a pair at once, Your Highness.” A horse-faced woman standing behind the princess spoke up. “But first, let’s buy the ribbon you wanted and return to the palace, it must be nearly time for you to dress for dinner.” She sounded like a nanny trying to coax a spoiled toddler away from a toy.
    “But I want them right now,” Amalia said. “Give me yours.”
    “Princess Amalia, surely you don’t want to wear the same shoes that a peasant girl has been wearing?” The horse-faced lady-in-waiting looked scandalised. I wondered how scandalised she would have been if I’d slapped her, and then her rude mistress.
    “Maybe not,” the princess said, never taking her eyes off me. “Maybe I just don’t think it’s fair that a peasant girl is wearing such fine slippers.”
    “You have dozens upon dozens of slippers,” the lady-in-waiting protested.
    “None like those,” Princess Amalia said mulishly.
    “Really, Amalia, this is childish,” the duchess said, shaking her head in disgust. “If you deprived every person whose shoes you like of their footwear, half of the King’s Seat would go barefoot. Let’s buy those ribbons and return to the palace.” She gave her attention to Derda once more. “I don’t know what you mean, that it isn’t good enough for me, Derda. If I like the girl’s handiwork, then it clearly
is
good enough.
    “Now, after you’ve made up that grey silk gown, let this girl embroider panels on the skirt and around the cuffs. I want something like this.” She