Dance with the Devil

Chapter Eight

   “Will she be much longer?” Luke called anxiously through the door to our chambers, and not for the first time in so few minutes.

   “Hold yer horses!” the surgeon’s wife shouted back at him, also not for the first time, “just a few more stitches.”

   I shook my head and laughed, that is what she said when we had begun this process nearly an hour ago.

   And to be honest, the amount of work she accomplished in just three days was astonishing, far more than any tailor would have managed on such short order. So if a few more stitches were all my gown needed then unlike Luke I was not going to complain. Though the bit she was sewing together was not the dress itself, but the garter around my leg.

   More than just to hold up my stockings, the woman had fastened a small leather holster onto the lace to hold a pistol. The stitches were necessary to keep it from dragging it all to my ankle, it was tighter then I would have liked but not painfully so.

   And that was not the only weapon she had sewn my frills to conceal. Wrapped around my other leg were two leather straps, one at my thigh and one just above my knee where my own blade rested. At both sides of my waist, hidden in the folds, were gaps in the seams so I could reach through my skirts for them if needed.  Just below the buttons on my back there was pocket holding three of my throwing daggers, and sewn into my bodice was another small dagger. Though I could feel its hilt digging into my breasts, the stiff ribs that held my form kept it from being outwardly seen.

   Now when I had asked her if she could indeed sew a dress for me like she had offered, she had beamed, telling me not to worry about a thing. She said she just needed my measurements and she would take care of it all for me. And not that I doubted her skill, but the finished gown was far beyond my expectations as I myself had not thought to ask for such embellishments beforehand.

   I would commission her again in a heartbeat should I ever be in need of another gown. This one even had me thinking of giving up my breeches and boots it was so well fortified. Though it would be a shame to ruin such a beautiful piece of work with the dirt and grime I spend my nights in.

   “There,” she stated as she gave the inside of my leg a pat, telling me I could take it down from her lap, “I can do no better for ya.”

   “What you have done is more than enough,” I gushed as I smoothed down my skirts, “this dress is perfection.”

   She nodded her thanks and gave my bodice a couple of tugs upwards, “just remember you only have one shot with that pistol, so you better make it a good one.”

   “I will,” I stated simply.

   “I didn’t lace you up too tightly did I?” this time she gave a pull to the backside of my gown between my shoulder blades, “it won’t hinder you should a chase arise will it?”

   I sucked in a deep lungful of air, “no, no I can breathe alright,” I reached in between my breasts and readjusted the dagger, “but I will have to remove that beforehand so as not wound my womanly self.”

   “Good, good,” she mumbled as she fluffed my skirts for me, “then I suppose it’ll do.”

   I smiled at her humility, “thank you Helen.”

   “Ah lass,” she sighed, “you know you’re not supposed to be saying that.”

   I grinned because I knew it was not her name she was referring too, “I don’t mind owing you a favor and I know you will not take advantage of my debt.”

   Because by telling her thank you I offered her just that, one favor. To thank a Fae meant you owed them a debt that they could call upon at any time for any reason, be it justly or not. But I knew Helen would not ask me to do anything reprehensible, when she called her favor- if she called her favor- it would be for honorable reasons only.