Emilie of the Royal Heart

Chapter 31: The Tailor is Trying Very Hard to Keep it Together

 "Hello, Cedric," Emilie beamed.

"Hello," he chirped, stepping beside her to unlock the workshop door with the key. Once unlocked, he pushed the door open and gestured for her to enter, asking, "how was the Southern Tour?"

She walked in the workshop, but lingered by the entryway as he followed her inside and closed the door behind him.

"It was very pleasant. The blossoms in Appleseed Valley were beautiful. I don't think I've ever seen such a gorgeous pink before."

Emilie was answering his question, but she was taking a survey of his appearance looking for any piece of information tucked away behind his ear or into the creases of his shirt. His auburn hair was a bit shorter than the last time she saw him, the ends of it dangling over his forehead as if they were trying to greet his thin eyebrows. He wore a clean, white linen shirt with a simple black waistcoat. Emilie's eyes caught sight of a pair of cufflinks in the shape of a bee.

In the workshop, there was a grand library of fabrics and a line of mannequins with half-completed projects. In a different corner were shelves and shelves of designs and notebooks. The rest of the floor space was taken up by large tables and chairs for patterning, drawing, marking, and presumably sewing.

Cedric walked into the middle of the room and he set his satchel down in a chair by a table that was evidently his station. Emilie floated deeper into the room, using the same path he did until she stood by his chair.

"So what can I do for you, my lady?" Cedric asked, twisting around, resting his hand on the chair back.

"I've been recently informed I must know how to pick wildflowers in the proper way in order to make a proper floral arrangement in the proper manner with the proper dress every first of the month as long as there are flowers to be collected for as long as I am Princess," Emilie chuckled, wringing her hands out down by her waist. She was surprised to notice there was no one else in the workshop at this time and the curtains were fully drawn. She wondered if the clothing workers kept especially specific hours.

"Aha," Cedric called up to the ceiling and then tilted his head back down to her, "yes, I am familiar with this tradition."

She nodded.

He studied her closely before he gave a laugh and crossed his arms at her. He leaned down a bit with his lips pressed together before he feigned surprise, saying, "Lady Emilie... are you trying to tell me you don't have a traditional royal Fellen, seasonal flower picking dress in your closet?"

"Don't tell the courtiers," she snickered.

"Courtiers!? I was planning to take this straight to the Keepers of Tradition. Just wait until they hear that a refugee from Zuhia doesn't own a traditional royal Fellen, seasonal flower picking dress. They'll kick you right out of the palace."

Emilie bit down on her lip because she was starting to smile too much. In the same vein, she let her face pull toward the ground as she tried to hide it from him. Cedric may have taken these notes as her being uncomfortable, because he cleared his throat and resumed a serious expression.

"Making such a dress should be easy enough," he assured her in a tone that strived for professionalism, "I've never made one before, but it looks like a lot of traditional royal garb, so I should have something completed very quickly for you."

"Please do. I simply can't wait to be criticized and corrected on how to pick a dandelion."

Cedric whirled away from her to scrounge around in his satchel, but Emilie was convinced by the way his hands moved that he couldn't possibly be looking for anything in there.