With them, on Farin the cook’s advice, were two of her assistants. “Efla can cook, passably,” the cook said. “Jaim’s too young, but you’ll need an errand boy to help fetch and carry from market and the like. None of those militia I’d trust to boil water and make sib, let alone cook for the lot of you, and you don’t know if any of the servants are still in the city house.” A single pack animal carried only a light load—the royal regalia, now wrapped piece by piece in clean linen and then packed into a padded sack—and what she’d found that might be turned into court clothes later. Another carried supplies they might need in Vérella “in case the house was robbed after the old duke …” The cook laid her finger on her throat. Dorrin had the prince’s invitation in her own saddlebags, along with the pass to travel to and from Vérella.

They reached Harway just at dark after a long day’s travel, and found rooms at the same inn where, at the end of winter, she had lodged. “How many nights?” the innkeeper asked.

“Two or three,” Dorrin said. “I need to find a tailor here, or somewhere on the road to Vérella. I’m summoned to the coronation and have no court attire.” She laughed, making a joke of it. “I did not anticipate needing any—do you know someone who might—”

“A court dress for a lady of your rank?” he said. “Even the best I know of cannot do that in one day or two.”

“Not a dress,” Dorrin said. “I know that is impossible. But the prince named me duke, and I’ve worn soldier’s clothing since I was a young girl. Something suitable for a duke—shirts with ruffles or lace or something. A doublet—”

“Oh, that.” His face cleared. “You’ll want Durgeon & Sons for that. Pili Durgeon’s an excellent tailor, and I’m sure he’ll be able to find something to suit. It’s from him your men got that blue cloth when you were here before, and since then he’s had a shipment from the south. ’Tis late tonight, but I can send a lad to let him know you’ll visit in the morning, shall I?”

“Thank you,” Dorrin said.

She spent the next morning with the tailor. “I’ve got work I cannot put aside, even for a duke,” he said. “But that will be finished this afternoon, and I can take your measurements and requirements now. Court clothes—yes, of course I know what’s needed. As for the materials—look here.” He led her to the back of the shop, past men and women busily at work in the light of wide windows, to a locked chamber. Inside, rolls of cloth filled shelves, but for a small section holding bundles wrapped in muslin.

“This—” He lifted a muslin-wrapped bundle and began unwrapping it. “The previous duke ordered this two years ago, to make up a robe for the coronation this year. Drew the design for the brocade and all, and I sent to the south, to the weavers there, to have it woven just for him.”