It was barely mid-morning when the bell over Veylan’s shop door chimed, sharp and clear. Ilyari looked up from her stitching—just in time to see the whirl of bright blue and yellow ribbons flying through the door like a tiny storm.

  “Miss Tailor!” the little girl shrieked, charging across the shop floor and throwing her arms around Ilyari’s legs.

  Ilyari blinked in surprise but laughed, smoothing the girl's ash-blonde curls.

  “Well, good morning to you too!” she said, gently untangling the ribbons. “Careful now—you’ll crumple your new dress before you even put it on.”

  Lord Talvane entered a beat later, more composed but with that familiar, exhausted look of a father who’d been chasing chaos since sunrise.

  “She’s been talking about nothing but this dress all week,” he said, offering Ilyari a grateful nod. “I figured we’d better get it before she explodes.”

  Ilyari grinned, setting down her needle and wiping her hands on her apron. “I’ve just finished the last few gems.”

  She led them to the fitting platform, where the dress waited: a bright river-blue gown with a full skirt that fell just to the shin, gleaming yellow trim tracing the edges. The detachable apron, tied up in a perfect double bow, matched perfectly. Beside it, the matching hair ribbons shimmered softly in the light.

  The little girl gasped, eyes wide with wonder.

  Ilyari knelt, smiling. “Have you ever heard a story about the princess and her magical jewels?”

  The girl shook her head, eyes wide and clutching her hands together in anticipation.

  “Well,” Ilyari said, making sure that each length was correct with her tape, and turning her ever so slowly.“There was a princess who loved people, and she loved when they loved her, but no matter how many hugs she got, she wanted to carry their love with her all the time. So her mother asked a famous tailor to sew on these special jewels that the more love she received the brighter they would shine in the light. And so on her name day, as her day went on, she shone so brightly, they almost thought she was a star! If you take care of your jewels, they’ll sparkle bright and soak up all the love in the room—just like a real princess.” and with that she turned the little girl to face the mirror, opening the window so that the light would come in and shine on the jewels making them shine brightly.

  The girl’s eyes grew even rounder and she danced as her dress sparkled and twinkled in the light. “I promise I’ll be careful!” she said fiercely, clutching the apron like a precious relic. “I look like a princess!” she squealed.

  “You are a princess,” Ilyari said warmly, securing the final ribbon. “The best kind.”

  A sudden sharp throat-clear from the door made her freeze and a soft knock sounded from the door—and Lady Talvane entered.

  She was tall and poised, her ash-blonde hair swept up in an elegant twist, her gown a shade deeper than her daughter’s. Her eyes moved over the room quickly, taking in every detail. Ilyari sucked in a breath at her beauty. No doubt when the little girl grew up she would have every suiter knocking the door down.

  She approached with a quiet grace, her gaze sweeping over the dress as her lips curved upward.

  “Ah. This is the famous creation my daughter has been dreaming about.”

  Lord Talvane bowed slightly, stepping back to give his wife room. “You should have seen her face.”

  Lady Talvane inspected the dress closely, brushing her fingertips over the bright fabric, lifting the hem to peek at the hidden trousers, and giving a thoughtful hum as she traced the fine stitching along the apron.

  “It’s exquisite,” she said after a moment, her voice carrying just the right weight of approval. “Sturdy but elegant. Practical without losing grace. Much like a princess at storytime.”

  She turned to Ilyari, her eyes sharp but not unfriendly. “This is your work?”

  Ilyari straightened her spine and bowed slightly, blushing at the reference. She hadn’t known the lady was listening. “Yes, my lady. Thank you.”

  Lady Talvane studied her a beat longer, then nodded once, firmly. “Impressive craftsmanship. You’ve captured exactly what I wanted, even if I didn’t know what that was myself.”

  The little girl spun happily in front of the mirror, admiring every angle of her new gown.

  “If it is finished please box it up. My husband will arrange payment and we will be happy to take this with us today.” Lady Talvane added, already turning toward the door. “Lord Talvane, tip the girl for her storytime.”

  “Thank you so much, my Lady” Ilyari said, bowing again.

  Lady Talvane paused at the door, her eyes lingering on the dress for a moment longer, something almost wistful in her expression.

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  Then, with a last nod, she swept out, her husband waiting for the dress to be properly boxed up and, trying to wrangle their excited daughter away from the mirror.

  When the door closed behind them, silence settled like a soft sigh.

  Veylan appeared from the back room, rubbing his hands together. “Well,” he said, voice light but his eyes sharp, “I’d say that was a job well done.”

  Ilyari’s smile was tight. “She was kind… but made her boundaries very clear.”

  Veylan smirked, patting her shoulder. “Ah, you catch on quickly to the talk of nobles. Don’t take it to heart. You’ve left your mark, and she’s impressed. Lady Talvane is not easily impressed.”

  ?????????

  The door chimed again.

  Ilyari looked up from her project—halfway through stitching a new hem—and froze.

  The little girl darted in, grinning, arms full of wild blooms, their colors bright and unruly.

  “These are for you!” she declared breathlessly, shoving the bouquet into Ilyari’s hands. “Mama said thank you too!”

  Lady Talvane followed, her figure poised in the doorway, eyes cool and measured.

  Ilyari blinked, flustered, cradling the flowers awkwardly. “Th-thank you… truly, my lady. You didn’t have to.”

  Lady Talvane’s lips curved ever so slightly. “A small gesture. Your work has drawn attention. Don’t be surprised if… others begin to seek you out.” Her eyes lingered just a beat too long—sharp beneath her polished exterior. “But do choose your patrons wisely.”

  Before Ilyari could answer, Lady Talvane turned, her daughter skipping along beside her as they slipped out the door, the bell chiming softly behind them.

  For a moment, the shop was silent.

  Then Ilyari looked down—her fingers brushing a slip of parchment tucked between the stems, sealed with the Talvane crest.

  She unfolded it carefully, heart thudding.

  In delicate script:

  “A token of trust. You’ve made a ripple, child. The water is watching. Others will come—not all with pure intent.”

  She stared, reading it twice over, frowning slightly. Trust? Watching?

  She glanced down at the bouquet more closely this time—and her breath caught.

  Among the scatter of flowers were two that stood out: a pale blue hyacinth, and a sharp-eyed yellow carnation.

  Flower language… She scrambled to remember. Ma’Ryn had taught her once—ages ago it seemed, when she was little and they would go to the wildflower fields to let the children decompress or cry. She told stories about the flowers and what they mean. Then she remembered them.

  Blue hyacinth: constancy, trust.

  Yellow carnation: watchfulness… sometimes, warning.

  A chill flickered up her spine.

  Veylan’s voice cut through the quiet, dry as ever. “Well. That’s no ordinary bouquet.”

  Ilyari looked up quickly. “The flowers… they mean something.”

  He stepped over, eyeing the arrangement with a practiced gaze. “Mm. Lady Talvane’s got a sharp mind. Trust and warning, if I’m reading that right?”

  Ilyari nodded slowly, fingers tightening around the stems. “And this note.” She passed it to him.

  Veylan scanned it once, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Hmph. Polite on the surface… but that’s a flag if I’ve ever seen one.”

  He met her eyes, more serious than usual. “You’ve impressed them. But nobles don’t send warnings for no reason. Flowers are nice… but favors come with thorns. You’d best keep your head down—unless you’re ready to be noticed by eyes that don’t blink.”

  Ilyari exhaled, her pulse still fluttering. “I didn’t ask for attention.”

  “No,” Veylan said quietly, patting her shoulder. “But sometimes? Talent doesn’t give you a choice.”

  lyari set the bouquet down carefully, brushing her fingertips across the petals. “It’s… kind of beautiful. But it feels… I don’t know. Heavy.”

  Veylan studied her, eyes sharp beneath his quiet exterior. “Flowers are nice,” he muttered, “but favors from nobles come with thorns.”

  He walked back to the cutting table, slicing through a bolt of fabric with practiced ease. “I knew a man once,” he said after a beat, voice low and distant. “Brilliant hands. Sharper than mine, maybe. The nobles adored him—poured gold at his feet.”

  He paused, staring at the cut cloth. “Until he said no to the wrong one. One day, he was the toast of the city… the next, gone. His shop, his name—vanished like smoke.”

  His eyes locked onto hers, no softness in them now. “Be smart, apprentice. Don’t let pretty favors turn your head too fast.”

  Ilyari swallowed hard, her eyes dropping to the note tucked between the flowers. Part of her—the part that had longed to be seen—thrummed with pride.

  But the rest… the rest was tangled in unease.

  She looked at Veylan, brows knitting. “Do you think… this is just the beginning of something?”

  Veylan gave a short, dry laugh. “I think this city’s always watching, girl. And you just stepped into the spotlight.”

  Before she can answer, the bell over the door chimed again—sharp, too sharp, breaking the quiet.

  Veylan’s head jerked up. He shared a look with Ilyari, and his hand instinctively brushed the small blade at his belt—an old habit.

  A man stepped inside, tall and pinched-looking, his cloak draped in heavy folds despite the warming season. His eyes darted around the shop, lingering on every bolt of fabric, every shelf.

  “Guild business,” he said brusquely, flashing a merchant’s guild seal.

  Veylan’s posture stiffened. “This early?”

  The man stepped closer, peering around with a knowing smile. “Heard you’ve been busy. Buying up a lot of supplies for someone rumored to be… closing down.”

  Veylan’s brow furrowed, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. “Rumors are false. My shop is staying open.”

  The guildman’s smile thinned. “Then you’ll want to settle your outstanding debts. There’s been… concern. Unpaid dues.” He pulled a slip of parchment from his sleeve, waving it lazily.

  Veylan’s eyes sharpened. “That’s not possible. I settled that last month. In full.”

  “Hmm.” The guildman’s tone oozed false sympathy. “Funny. We never received it.”

  Veylan’s voice cooled into steel. “I sent the payment by certified messenger. Signed, sealed, and logged—by Fenn Marketh.” The man’s smile faltered. He hadn’t expected that.

  “And I have the countersignature from your guild’s messenger,” Veylan added, stepping behind the counter and pulling out a slim ledger. He flipped it open, jabbing a finger at the scrawled name and guild seal. “Right here.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed, scanning it quickly. His jaw tightened.

  “Well… curious,” the guildman said slowly. “If this is true, then it seems… someone misplaced the report of your payment. I’ll… have to report it and open an investigation.”

  “Do that,” Veylan said sharply. “And tell your superiors to keep their claws off my business unless they have proof next time.”

  The guildman’s gaze lingered a second too long—calculating, dark. Then, with a stiff nod, he turned and swept out, the door rattling in his wake.

  Silence held for a long moment.

  Then Tazien’s voice drifted in from the back room, quiet but hard-edged. “Should you have said that? That guy… was shady.”

  Veylan glanced over. “They’re all shady.”

  “No,” Tazien said, stepping out now, his eyes still locked on the door. “I mean—he was… covered in Code. Not normal. It was thick, dark—wrong.”

  Ilyari blinked. “Corrupt Code?”

  “More than that.” Tazien’s brow creased, his tone uneasy. “It was… malicious. Like something was controlling him. I wanted to reach for it—trace it—but…”

  He trailed off, shaking his head. “It was too dangerous.”

  Veylan exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand down his jaw. “And so it begins,” he muttered.

  Ilyari’s hands tightened around the flowers, her gaze flicking between them both—uneasy, but resolute.

  “Whatever it is,” she said softly and with a reassuring smile, “we’ll handle it.”