Emilie of the Royal Heart

Chapter 7: The Tailor Has a Mind for Scandalous Affairs

 "Lift your arms, please," Cedric glanced up from his work. Emilie obliged him and brought her arms to a 't' as she stood on the pedestal and he made final adjustments on one of her first royally commissioned dresses for her new wardrobe.

"Do you really have to rush this one? You should take your time shouldn't you?"

Cedric peeked up at her and pursed his lips, "you're set to have tea with the Countess Analeigh later today, aren't you?"

Emilie nodded.

"Don't move!" he wheezed, his hand grabbing her hip while the rest of his body froze.

Emilie hadn't even thought she moved anything except her head, but she went still all the same. By the time the two of them were motionless enough to be posing for a painting, Cedric blew out a breath and laughed. His hand slid off of her to return to his work and Emilie contemplated whether or not she could get him to put his hand back on her like that if she faked a sneeze.

She banished the thought from her head. She was supposed to be excited to restrain herself at Analeigh's today. The Tailor should only be her very good friend. There was no room in her current predicament to think about his hands like that.

"What I was meaning to say is that you were wearing modified pieces from the Countess' own personal wardrobe. Walking into her mansion wearing her dress and being engaged to his majesty is already one very shameful thing, but walking out of her mansion wearing her clothes...?" Cedric straightened into a stand, his head craning up to meet her eyes. He quirked an eyebrow and shifted the brown freckles on his cheeks with a furtive grin, "it paints a certain picture in the minds of the very bored nobles living around here."

"Oh?" Emilie chuckled, turning her head down to better meet his hazel eyes, "what sort of picture would that be?"

Cedric drew his hands back from her skirts and he furrowed his eyebrows. He crossed his arms over his billowy white cotton shirt and narrowed his eyes at her. He swallowed before he spoke in a low voice, "I can't tell if you're being serious about that or if you're teasing me."

Emilie parted her lips to answer, but then Cedric's eyes dropped to the ground. He cleared his throat and hastily added, "... your ladyship."

"Well, I suppose I've got an idea of what you mean," she replied, holding out her hand for him. Cedric approached her with a new hesitation, but he offered his hand all the same and she held onto him to steady her as she descended from the pedestal. She released his hand even though somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered what would happen if she didn't, and she turned toward him and said, "if I am seen leaving the Countess' manor in her clothes without the context that I've scarcely got clothes of my own, it might look as though we're quite intimate. As though I'm having an affair. That I'm not faithful to the Prince. Is that what you mean?"

Cedric faltered back a step, his face flaring with that fleshy pink tone that reminded Emilie of salmon, "I - I would never suggest - I promise I wouldn't - I was just trying to explain why I had to finish your dress today. Be-before you went to see her. Of course, I'd never accuse y-you of betraying your fiance, my lady."

"It's alright, Cedric," Emilie blurted. She hadn't meant to indicate he was questioning her loyalty to Aurora in the slightest. She took a step toward him, "I'm sorry. I wasn't... uh... trying to threaten you."

"Of course not, my Lady Emilie! You would never threaten anyone," he reinforced, but he only looked like he was trying to cover up his mistake even harder.

Emilie's face fell. Suddenly, the kinship she felt with the Tailor on her first visit with him and all the fittings and meetings since then was evaporating before her eyes. Out of anyone at the palace, she felt closest to him. He was her age, he used to be a commoner, and he wasn't so stilted by culture and tradition. Cedric made her laugh. Even this strange position and place she was in now. They had fun when they were together.

Or that's what she had thought.

Maybe... maybe the kindness Cedric showed her was the same kindness he showed the Prince or any other nobles he dressed. Maybe they had no special connection, but any advances she made to bring them closer he couldn't refuse. Because... and Emilie hadn't truly faced the reality until now...

She was going to be a princess soon. Like she said at the engagement toast, she was a Zuhian nobody. Emilie still thought of herself as a Zuhian nobody. But that simply wasn't the case anymore. Now she was engaged to Prince Aurora and she was a princess-to-be. She was royal now. And... and...

That meant people like Cedric would feign friendship at any degree to please her. She and the Tailor could never be truly close. It would never be a genuine connection. Not as long as she was basically a princess and he was... just her Tailor.

Emilie's expression melted into desolation. She didn't understand why this realization hurt her so much. She felt like she lost something she needed desperately.

"I didn't mean to offend you, I really just thought you might need to know because you weren't born into Fellen noble tradition," Cedric swore.

"I understand," Emilie put on a smile, but she couldn't seem to shake the melancholy shade from it, "you're only trying to protect me from my foreign assumptions. Because I don't know this culture."

"I didn't mean to tell you that you are unknowledgeable either, I-"

Emilie patted his shoulder, "it's alright, Cedric. Truly. You know I'm not all that serious. You don't need to apologize over apologies for me."

Cedric's shoulders did soften, but there was something tight in his body now that Emilie knew no amount of assurances from her could loosen.

"Yes, well. If it helps you, I can say that the Fellen nobles and their codes of conduct make little sense to me and I'm from Fellen," he ran a hand through his hair.

Emilie nodded and strode toward the door in her newest dress. She twisted back to him and gave him a full twirl before she asked with her spirits raising just a little, "is it done, do you think? Am I armored for the rigors and the battles of afternoon tea?"

To her relief and to her heartbreak, Cedric's eyes perked up and he beamed at her as her skirts swished back into place around her legs.

"Yes. I do believe you and the dress will survive tea time. I wish you a pleasant visit with the Countess."

And as Emilie left to consult with her attendants, an inkling swam in the back of her mind and it bit at her heart until she surrendered to it. She couldn't name what it was about leaving Cedric standing in the fitting room that made her so distraught, but even minutes later as she passed through the halls, the sight of him followed her like a ghost.

Because on that day, Emilie spied something very, very sad in the Tailor's eyes.