The Unicorn Must Die

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Although Isla-Dove referred to the workshop as "Miss Capen's workshop," it did have a title. Capen's Boutique. The innocence of the title astounded Isla-Dove. By the end of each day, she was sore and tired. She put so much strength and focus into deliveries, as well as the cleaning and work that needed to be done around the shop. Miss Capen didn't let her touch any of her work-in-progress, nor did she allow Isla-Dove to dabble in the art of being a seamstress herself. Behind the sweetness of the title was a girl being worked close to death.

She was there to do whatever it was that Miss Capen wanted, and in that moment, Miss Capen's request was very loud.

"Girl, where are the thimbles? I don't know how many times I've stuck my finger because you misplaced them!" Miss Capen's angry holler filled the whole shop; the bottom and top floors.

Capen's Boutique wasn't like other boutiques; people couldn't walk in and purchase pre-made gowns or clothing. Instead, Miss Capen only took personalized requests. Because she was so good at what she did, there was even a wait-list that Isla-Dove had the honors of keeping track of. If a request had been waiting with no start or without much progress for 30 days, it was her job to go to the purchaser's home and relay the news that their order was still in-progress.

That was what she had been readying for when Miss Capen yelled for her.

Isla-Dove secured a cloak around her shoulders before answering the seamstress by speaking next to the staircase: "I found them earlier this morning and placed them under your workbench."

She didn't recieve a reply, which meant Miss Capen found the small basket. She slowly descended down the stairs and into the chilly, crowded workspace that Miss Capen currently occupied. The woman was seated at her long table, threading a string into a needle, a thimble secure on her thumb.

"You're nearly useless," Miss Capen snapped once she saw Isla-Dove. Her hard, brown eyes lifted for only a moment before her attention was back on the task before her. "Where are you going?"

"Making rounds to those who have been on the wait-list for 30 days now."

"Be quick," was the stern reply.

The main delay for purchasers orders was because, when an order was placed from the palace, that took priority over all others. Most purchasers were kind and understanding of this, but there was occasionally the one whose attitude was as nasty as Miss Capen's, and Isla-Dove dreaded interactions with those people.

Her legs were still tired from being out late the night before, but she pushed herself to get through the Door Of Doom and into the warm sunshine. She couldn't remember walking back to the shop from the palace the previous night, but she knew she had, otherwise she wouldn't have woken up in her bed. She was pretty sure that Marina was who kept her late. She wouldn't know for sure until she spoke with her friend. Marina had been upset after the prince's remark, but if Isla-Dove had found and comforted her, it was after the sun had set because she had no memory of doing so.

She had two wait-list purchasers to visit. When placing orders, the location and number of their homes had to be given for when the order was delivered. This was what Isla-Dove used as she made her way in the opposite direction of the palace, walking alongside the canal as she descended deeper into the city. As always, there was at least one boat on the canal that carried people of the royal court toward the palace.

Sometimes, Isla-Dove wished she could ride on one of the boats and finally be seen as somebody of importance.

A slight tug at her shawl caught her attention. She snapped her arm back to grab the wrist of whoever just slipped a hand into her cloak pocket.