friendly squeeze. “You, Mrs Zanst, have a gift for interior design.”
“Oh, I’m pleased you think so. Many of the women here,” her voice dropped to a murmur, “Think my taste unfashionable.”
“To the contrary, your taste is a fashion setter. Wait until we get you back at the palace to decorate Haydyn’s private parlour, Mrs Zanst, then al the ladies wil be after you to design their homes for them.”
Wide-eyed, she puled me into her equaly quaint and beautiful parlour. “Do you realy think so?”
***
Having inadvertently received a friend for life in the charming Mrs Zanst I felt bad when I tricked her. Desperate for some time alone, to be away from the Guard and the Factory District, which was buzzing with the news of our arrival, I knew I had to make my escape before the neighbours started caling on Mrs Zanst to meet me.
Having faked a headache and fatigue from the journey, I was shown to a spectacular guest suite with wonderful views of Ryl. There I hastily wrote a note to Mrs Zanst teling her where I’d gone so she wouldn’t worry, and then threw on a dark cloak, creeping out of the room. I had to hide twice - once in another bedroom and then in the music room on the second floor. I halted at the sound of children squealing and realised the nursery must not be far off. Afraid of being found by an impish child I scurried down the next flight of stairs and then cursed under my breath when I came face to face with the butler.
“May I help you, my Lady?” She bowed, gracefuly, the talest female butler I had ever encountered.
I gulped, thinking fast. “I’m going for a walk. Mrs Zanst suggested I folow the Factory District out to the right to get to the city…” She frowned, shaking her head. “That can’t be right, my Lady. Mrs Zanst must have meant for you to take a right and then a left once you reach the entrance to Factory District.”
I smiled inwardly. “And that just takes me straight into the city?”
“You can’t miss it, my Lady.”
“Thank you.”
And as easily as that I was out the door. I held my breath, almost skipping as I shot out the driveway and through the gates. As I hurried along, I peered towards the back of the house and saw some of the Guard stil organising themselves at the stables. Afraid to be spotted, I took off at a run, no longer caring which of the neighbours saw.
As the wind rushed into my face, tearing my eyes, my skirts fluttering a hindrance around of my legs, I grinned and pushed harder. It felt wonderful, so freeing.
Skidding to a stop at the end of the Factory District, I peered over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t being folowed. I couldn’t see anyone. I smoothed my skirts down and straightened my cloak and began walking sedately towards the city which caled to me with its noise and smel. There were stil a few hours until night fal, plenty of time to have a look around.
Quite suddenly I found myself in the hubbub of the city, lots of people rushing around as if they had somewhere important to be. In fact, as I gazed around at the rather drab appearance of the city, with its industrial towering factories in the distance and the squab little shops, I realised how different it was to Peza, considering the wares that were created here.
Or so I thought.
Like stepping into an oil painting I found myself gobsmacked when I walked through an arched aleyway. I found myself lambasted by colour as I entered the market square. Everywhere were people and stals in a multitude of hues, where quiet selers stood patiently offering help and information. Never before had I seen such serious, hushed selers. But as I walked around the stals, my eyes widening every now and then, I realised why. Their products were beautiful, no matter if they were mass-produced – products that sold themselves. I stopped suddenly, drawn to a stal with beaded jewelery. The jewelery I owned was of the finest precious metals and stones, nothing like this. But I fingered a
“Oh, I’m pleased you think so. Many of the women here,” her voice dropped to a murmur, “Think my taste unfashionable.”
“To the contrary, your taste is a fashion setter. Wait until we get you back at the palace to decorate Haydyn’s private parlour, Mrs Zanst, then al the ladies wil be after you to design their homes for them.”
Wide-eyed, she puled me into her equaly quaint and beautiful parlour. “Do you realy think so?”
***
Having inadvertently received a friend for life in the charming Mrs Zanst I felt bad when I tricked her. Desperate for some time alone, to be away from the Guard and the Factory District, which was buzzing with the news of our arrival, I knew I had to make my escape before the neighbours started caling on Mrs Zanst to meet me.
Having faked a headache and fatigue from the journey, I was shown to a spectacular guest suite with wonderful views of Ryl. There I hastily wrote a note to Mrs Zanst teling her where I’d gone so she wouldn’t worry, and then threw on a dark cloak, creeping out of the room. I had to hide twice - once in another bedroom and then in the music room on the second floor. I halted at the sound of children squealing and realised the nursery must not be far off. Afraid of being found by an impish child I scurried down the next flight of stairs and then cursed under my breath when I came face to face with the butler.
“May I help you, my Lady?” She bowed, gracefuly, the talest female butler I had ever encountered.
I gulped, thinking fast. “I’m going for a walk. Mrs Zanst suggested I folow the Factory District out to the right to get to the city…” She frowned, shaking her head. “That can’t be right, my Lady. Mrs Zanst must have meant for you to take a right and then a left once you reach the entrance to Factory District.”
I smiled inwardly. “And that just takes me straight into the city?”
“You can’t miss it, my Lady.”
“Thank you.”
And as easily as that I was out the door. I held my breath, almost skipping as I shot out the driveway and through the gates. As I hurried along, I peered towards the back of the house and saw some of the Guard stil organising themselves at the stables. Afraid to be spotted, I took off at a run, no longer caring which of the neighbours saw.
As the wind rushed into my face, tearing my eyes, my skirts fluttering a hindrance around of my legs, I grinned and pushed harder. It felt wonderful, so freeing.
Skidding to a stop at the end of the Factory District, I peered over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t being folowed. I couldn’t see anyone. I smoothed my skirts down and straightened my cloak and began walking sedately towards the city which caled to me with its noise and smel. There were stil a few hours until night fal, plenty of time to have a look around.
Quite suddenly I found myself in the hubbub of the city, lots of people rushing around as if they had somewhere important to be. In fact, as I gazed around at the rather drab appearance of the city, with its industrial towering factories in the distance and the squab little shops, I realised how different it was to Peza, considering the wares that were created here.
Or so I thought.
Like stepping into an oil painting I found myself gobsmacked when I walked through an arched aleyway. I found myself lambasted by colour as I entered the market square. Everywhere were people and stals in a multitude of hues, where quiet selers stood patiently offering help and information. Never before had I seen such serious, hushed selers. But as I walked around the stals, my eyes widening every now and then, I realised why. Their products were beautiful, no matter if they were mass-produced – products that sold themselves. I stopped suddenly, drawn to a stal with beaded jewelery. The jewelery I owned was of the finest precious metals and stones, nothing like this. But I fingered a
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