Chosen : Assassin Book 1

Chosen - Chapter Fifty-Three

"And this," she said, tossing it beside the red. Another seamstress held a piece of paper and quill making little notes. Angeline had swatches of fabric tossed over her shoulders, around her waist, on her arms.

She giggled, oohed, and awed over everything.

"Not the brown for her. It washes out her lovely skin," my seamstress commanded. The others nodded and removed the fabric. "For Angeline, the dark blue with black should do nicely."

The fabrics were taken to tables on the far ends of the room by a few ladies; others grabbed measuring tapes and checked everything that could need a measurement. Even my head.

"Please, go. We shall fetch you shortly."

"Um, okay." We left the room, wandering around.

"That was odd," Angeline said, lacing her arm through mine.

"Mm, that was."

"Shall we stroll through the gardens?" Angeline suggested.

"Yes. I haven't seen the Windsor Palace gardens before."

"Neither have I," she said, smiling.

The greenness of the grass and trees, the many colorful flowers, the small waterfall cascaded down to a pond below. A few swans swam about while peacocks pecked about. A large weeping willow provided shade near the pond and also made for a nice place to rest. We sat, talking as a few of the king's men approached us.

"Ladies, the royal seamstresses are requesting your presence." Harry bent low at the waste to us.

"Already? That was awful quick," Angeline replied, tossing the flower she'd picked to the ground.

"They are the finest in the land, ma'am."

"Fantastic. Do you know what's going on this week?" I asked.

"I do, Madame."

"DO tell us."

"Sorry, Madame, we have been sworn to secrecy on pain of death."

"Death? What is that man doing?"

"The seamstresses, Madame."

"Right. Off we go."

The ladies had worked fast. There were bits and pieces of gowns lying about, petticoats, bodices, and hose strewn around the room.

"Off with the peasant gowns!" the head seamstress ordered.

"Peasant gowns?" I held up the skirt of my gown looking at it. "I know it's not of the highest quality anymore, but it's far from a peasant gown."

"There is a hole in it!"

"Okay, so it is a bit..." I relented. "It's a peasant gown."

I removed the teal gown and the dirty petticoats and bodice.

"To the basin!" The woman shoed me and Angeline to respective basins where the seamstresses scrubbed at our bodies and washed our hair.

I didn't want to admit how much better I felt having the sea and muck cleaned from my body. My skin returned to being smooth while my hair no longer hung limp about my shoulders. Once back on the pedestals the hose was pulled on, the petticoats tied, and the bodices laced. I hated the bodices so much. I wasn't about to argue with the seamstress though. The pieces to various gowns were stuck together in piles. They pulled the skirt, top, and sleeves of a red gown. A gold and white chemise was pulled over my head. The sleeveless undergarment lay nicely on the poufy petticoat. I stepped into the skirt and had the top pulled on. The sleeves were pulled up my arms and sewn on.