A good day's work

Trace finished his day's work and hung up the heavy apron that had kept him as clean as a stable hand could be, which was not much. Shaking off the dust of the horses he'd groomed, he headed back to the gate where he and Anaisa had come in, wondering how long she would work.

A dressmaker's assistant couldn't get into too much trouble, surely.

A woman was indeed waiting for him outside the wall, but he paused when Anaisa turned to face him.

Her face was drawn and pale with worry and fear, her hair hidden under a scarf as she lurked in the shadow of the wall as if begging not to be noticed by anyone.

"Anaisa?" He stepped toward her and held out a hand. "Are you all right?"

She held a finger to her lips and started walking quickly away from the palace, almost at a run. Trace's mind took off like it was in a race.

His wife was scared, and had taken pains to be hidden from sight. He could only think of a handful of reasons why she might do such a thing, none of them good. His blood boiled at one or two of them.

He knew from some of the dreams he'd explored that maids and servants were not always respected or seen as entitled to their own space.

Anaisa finally stopped when they got to their inn, and Trace took out the key to their room.

"Did you quit?" He asked urgently. "I will as well. We will hide out here together and I will complete this task without you."

"No, I didn't quit," She replied quickly, confusing him. "Everything is fine, I overheard a lot today!"

"You're… not hurt?" Trace looked her up and down.

"No! No, I was used as a mannequin for the dressmaker's styles," His wife went to a basin and splashed water on her face. White makeup washed away, revealing her more pleasing natural skin tone. She took her hair out of the tight bun it was drawn into. Perhaps that was to keep it out of the way of the clothes she tried on? "See? I'm perfectly fine."

She smiled, and he had to admit she looked much better. Trace relaxed his shoulders and sank into the one chair the room held.

"I'm glad. You worried me," He breathed. He had so many questions. "Why did you give the name Annie instead of your full name at the gate?"

She blinked at him. "On paper, your wife is Anaisa. It would be too easily discovered, so I decided to go by my nickname. It's not a lie, but it will make things a little less obvious."

Trace hesitated, but decided not to make a big deal over the matter of what name she used. "Tell me what you discovered." He requested gently.

Her eyes lit up, and she began to gush information at him.

"There is a noblewoman–a Duchess–she seemed displeased with everything. And her servant, Betsy, was very unhappy, but not half so unhappy as that poor mousy magic user who can change hair colors. The dressmaker's assistants all seemed ordinary, and–"

Trace's mind caught and he held up a hand requesting that his wife pause.

"Magic user? Is that all she does, changes hair colors?"

It seemed a very limited power if that were the case. Perhaps she could change the colors of other things–

"That's all I saw her do, but the Princess said–"

"You spoke with a princess?" Trace interrupted.

Anaisa's mouth snapped shut for a moment. When she spoke again, it was with caution. "She had a fitting for a gown."

"Oh, I see," Trace didn't like the change in demeanor she exhibited, exuding sudden discomfort. "Anything else?"

Anaisa livened back up and told him many other facts and details about the people she saw and interacted with throughout the palace. It was far more information than he had expected her to gather, and the diligence with which she reported to him was a little startling. How did she remember all of their names so easily?

With his day of manual labor, he'd seen only a handful of people and interacted with them for only a matter of minutes each.

"What about you?" She turned the question on him, bright eyed.

"I made some observations," He replied.

She frowned. "I suppose whatever your skills are will give you far more information than I gathered, but I did my best."

"You did far more than I expected, and I thank you for your help," Trace smiled at her, "but I am afraid of you being drawn too deeply into palace politics and drama. Perhaps you should quit, and not show up tomorrow."

"I can't!" Anaisa squeaked, surprising him.

"I'm not telling you that you have to quit," He clarified, "but you've given me quite a lot of information, and I think that's more than enough contribution for you to make to a task that is mine alone."

"You said we're a team," Her eyebrows came together in irritation.

"And you've made an amazing contribution, more than I had hoped for. Will you let me take it from here?" He didn't want to press or force her. Agreement was his ideal outcome in this.

"I… can't." She pressed her lips together before continuing. "I'm expected back tomorrow. If I don't come, I will be missed, and wouldn't that bring unwanted attention?"

"A dressmaker will probably think very little about an assistant not showing up for a second day," He shrugged. "I'm sure it happens all the time."

"I am sure it will cause more trouble for you if I stay away than if I return," Anaisa countered.

"For us." He tried to correct gently. "Not just for me."

"For us, then. I'm sure it is better for me to return than not," She responded.

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation.

"A letter for you," The inn's maid handed Trace an envelope when he opened the door, and he took it carefully. The handwriting was strangely unfamiliar.

Trace thanked the woman and closed the door. Without even opening the envelope, he held it out to Anaisa. Her eyebrows flew to her hairline.

"Really?" She squeaked. "You trust me so much?"

"It's for you," He explained with a smirk, holding it out further for her to see. Her name was scrawled in neat lettering across the front of the envelope.

"Katia," She snatched the letter from him and opened it gently. Her eyes scanned the page eagerly, but her expression melted into disappointment. "We can't go there tomorrow."

"What?" He asked.

"For tea, like Katia invited. She was apparently told by her hostess that it was inappropriate for her to host visitors in the home or see out of town people while she should be having etiquette lessons."

"Is she keeping Katia as a guest or prisoner?" Trace mumbled, then bit his tongue. That wasn't helpful. 

"Now you can't keep me from work tomorrow," Anaisa fixed him with a steady gaze. "I have to get her freed as soon as possible."

"I thought she liked it there," Trace tried to soften the reality of what was happening.

"She said her hostess is stern but fair… I still don't like this. Any of this." Anaisa's tone was deeper than before. "It's such a mess, and getting worse all the time."

"I'm sorry you both were dragged into this," Trace grimaced. "You get ready for bed, I'm going to go down to the washroom. They keep hot water for baths and I desperately need one after a day in the barn."

Anaisa nodded, but her fretting was evident. Apparently she accepted his lack of prohibition on the topic of work as consent, for she hurried over to her bag for just a moment before turning back to him.

"I suppose… starting tomorrow, we'll be staying separately in the palace." She looked at him strangely, and for a moment his heart raced. Was she going to miss being in the same room with him every night?

"That's true," He was conscious of the stench of horses on him, or he would have been sorely tempted to step closer to her.

"How will we pass messages?" She asked. "I'm not sure we'll run into each other often, and we won't want people to notice us working together, will we?"

Ah. That was a normal consideration for her to have. He was more disappointed than he should have been by her logic.

"I'll find a way, don't worry. The Dressmaker is not so high-ranking as to be above my ability to reach." He said. "I can perhaps find the sewing room or something where you will work."

"I…" She hesitated. "There are many places we go. I'm not sure where I will be."

"Don't worry," He gave her a half-smile, "I'll find you."

"Part of your… special skills?" She raised one eyebrow in question.

"Something like that," He grinned slightly, and she frowned with frustration. He was worried that she would guess he had magic after a day around another magic user, but it seemed she was as in the dark as ever about what his powers were.

He preferred it that way for now.