Frustrated, she wrapped the shard in a handkerchief and returned it to its hiding place behind the headboard.

Over the ensuing days, she saw nothing of the professor or Cade, but much of Mistress dela Enfande and her assistants with their arms full of fabric and rough-cut garments. Karigan was relegated to the stool once again as hems and superfluous fabric were pinned up and the seamstress consulted with her assistants on the fit.

Karigan was amazed to see so much progress so quickly, and said so.

“Our empire is a modern wonder, is it not?” Mistress dela Enfande said. “Yards and yards of fabric rolling off the looms in mere minutes, and treadle machines that save our fingers in the sewing room. Can you believe it was once all done by hand?”

Karigan opened her mouth, then closed it again, not sure what to say without giving away her ignorance. Yards and yards of fabric in mere minutes? What would her father, the textile merchant, make of such a miracle?

By the end of the week, boxes began to arrive: hat boxes, shoe boxes, glove boxes, undergarment boxes, and a couple of dress boxes. There was more to come, Mirriam told her. Mistress dela Enfande and her assistants were working at a terrific rate, all so Karigan could appear appropriately attired in the public sphere.

Arhys came into the room to observe each box as it was opened, her eyes nearly popping out of her head. “These are sooo pretty. You’ll be a princess!”

“You would do well to remember there are no princesses in our empire,” Mirriam scolded.

Karigan had to admit the new clothing was very fine, but compared to her own time, very modest and subdued. Even veils draped from the hats to conceal the face of the wearer. She was not going to complain, however, if the clothing allowed her to finally leave the house.

“Why can’t I have dresses like these?” Arhys asked, lifting a deep sapphire dress from its box.

“Because, if you will recall,” Mirriam said, “you are a servant. You are not a member of the Preferred set.”

“Wish I was,” Arhys said, pouting. She carelessly dropped the dress back into its box. “I’m just as good as anyone.”

“Arhys!” Mirriam said in warning.

Without another word, the girl stomped out of Karigan’s room, still pouting.

“That girl,” Mirriam muttered. “I don’t know what I’ll do as she gets older. I can’t expect her to come to her senses and know her place, what with the professor spoiling her. She’s been jealous of you since you arrived, and this—” she pointed at all the boxes “—can’t be helping.”

Karigan felt only pity for Arhys; just because the class system of this world made her a servant, she’d never be treated to an entirely new wardrobe. For Karigan, all of this—the dresses, everything—was a fluke of circumstance.

The next morning, she was roused by Lorine as the morning bells rang in the distance.

“You must ready yourself for breakfast, miss,” the servant told her with an anxious expression. “Your uncle asks that you join him downstairs. I will help you dress.”

One thing that had not changed since her own time, Karigan discovered, was corsets, though now they were no longer structured with whale bone, but with wire. Karigan begged Lorine not to cinch it too tightly and the young woman obeyed. Lorine then added the other layers with the necessary hooks and lacing. The dress itself was a subdued green that buttoned all the way up to her neck and covered her arms all the way down to her wrists. At least it was green! Even the shoes laced up to above her ankles.

Lorine made several braids of Karigan’s hair and pinned them up, then brought in a mirror so Karigan could see the result. She was not sure she recognized herself.

“It is so good to see you out of that nightgown, if I may say so, miss.”

She smiled feebly at Lorine. It wasn’t that she disliked dressing well—in fact if she hadn’t heard the Rider call and remained a merchant, she’d often be garbed in the latest and best—but she missed the freedom of her Rider uniform, which had become as natural to her as a second skin. That was the crux of it. She felt trapped in these clothes, consigned to a role of what was appropriate, a prisoner to the professor’s good graces.

She needed to stem that line of thought. Instead she must think of the new clothes as freedom, for now she could escape the confines of the house.

Before leaving her room, Karigan grabbed the bonewood. If she was going to create the pretense of needing it to support her leg, she’d better get accustomed to using it in that fashion.

As she descended the stairs with Lorine, mouthwatering aromas and the clatter of dishes rose up to meet them. It was clear that breakfast was already underway. When she reached the dining room, she paused in the doorway, Lorine halting meekly behind her.

The professor sat at the far end of the table, with Cade to his right. Four other young men sat with them, carving into steak, or sipping from teacups. One had a book open beside his plate.

The professor was the first to notice her presence. He dabbed his mouth with a napkin and rose. “Good morning, my dear! So good to see you up and about.”

There was a scraping of chairs as all the others hastily stood and regarded her with unabashed curiosity. The professor rounded the table and took her by the elbow, guiding her toward the chair at the closest end of the table.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “allow me to introduce my niece, Miss Kari Goodgrave.”

This was followed by a polite chorus of “good morning” and “delighted to make your acquaintance.”