Dragonskin Slippers by Jessica Day George Page A

waved a hand at my gown. “Only all in shades of blue. That will go well enough with the grey, don’t you think?”
    Realising that she had actually asked my opinion, I shook myself out of my stupor. “Very well, Your … Grace.” It had taken me a moment to think of the properway to address a duchess. Fortunately my silly aunt’s even sillier romantic tales were a good resource for such things. “I would be pleased to do it, Your Grace,” I added.
    “Excellent. Amalia?” The duchess studied the princess, and then sighed when it appeared that Princess Amalia was ignoring all of us until she got her way. “Derda, please use as much of the ribbon as you deem necessary, and add it to the princess’s bill.” She gave another wave of her hand. “The pattern you showed us today will do very well. Now come along, all of you.” And the duchess swept out, taking Princess Amalia and her entourage with her. I had just opened my mouth to apologise to Derda, and to find out why she was glaring at me in that way, when there was a shriek from the street outside, and one of the princess’s burly guards came hurrying back in.
    “Pippin! Pippin!” The man looked ridiculous, running around the pink-decorated shop snapping his fingers and calling that silly name.
    “Here she is,” I called. I had spotted a long silky tail disappearing under the cloth covering one of the refreshment tables. I reached under and pulled the little dog out. She was busily munching something she’d found on the floor. She licked my chin and I handed her to the guard with a grin that I couldn’t stop.
    “Thank you,” he said in laboured Feravelan, and left.
    Derda rounded on me as soon as the door closed behind him. “How dare you leave the backroom to wait ona customer when you’re dressed like that?” Her face was red with rage.
    I gaped at her. “But – but the princess, she wanted the ribbon and I found it,” I said helplessly. “I didn’t know how to get anyone’s attention, to have Marta or Alle come to get it.” Did she want the princess to leave dissatisfied, and never return?
    “That was the Duchess of Mordrel!”
    Blinking, I shook my head. I had never heard of the Duchess of Mordrel.
    “The Duchess of Mordrel is the cousin of King Caxel himself! Her husband, the duke, is second only to the king in wealth and influence,” Derda ranted. “The duchess is one of our most important patrons, and now she will know that those designs are your own.” She threw her hands in the air and stormed away in disgust. “Get in the back room where you belong, girl!” she shouted over her shoulder. “I was doing a favour for Ulfrid by taking you in, but by the Triunity I will take that favour back if I have to!”
    I stood staring at her as she lifted a discreet curtain and disappeared into some unknown quarter of the store. Alle gave me a scandalised look and began to clear up the mess that the princess had left. My hands clenched in my skirts, I started to stomp towards the back room, when a hand on my elbow stopped me.
    “She wanted to claim that the designs were her own,” Marta whispered. “She always does. Says it’s her right as our employer. Sewing embroidered ribbons around thenecklines of gowns was my idea. And the kilted layers of skirts that are all the rage now? A local fashion where Alle is from.”
    Alle shot a terrified glance at Marta and moved farther away, as though not wanting to be tainted by association if Derda came back.
    “Why don’t you open your own shop, then?” I asked, also keeping my voice low. My body was turning hot and cold and I wished with all my heart I was back in Shardas’s cave.
    “A shop? With what money?” Marta snorted at the idea. “I couldn’t afford the rent on the shop and it would take years to build up a clientele.” She shook her head. “The only hope for country girls like us is to keep our heads down and work for someone like Derda, and hope that we can save up enough money