Free [Queen of Orcs 03] - Royal Destiny by Morgan Howell

can make Muth Mauk’s other garments,” injected Nir-yat. “She need not wait for those.”
    “You’re right, of course,” said Thorma-yat, appearing flustered. She bowed to Dar. “I’ll get my samples.”
    After Thorma-yat hurried off, Nir-yat spoke. “Sister, let me guide your choices. I’ll praise many fabrics, but when I say, ‘Does this one please you?,’ that is cloth you should select.”
    “Why not just choose for me?”
    “That would give wrong impression. Great mothers often receive counsel, but they decide.”
    Dar appreciated Nir-yat’s subtlety, especially once Thorma-yat returned. When the seamstress had made Dar’s first outfit of orcish clothing, she had brought a few dozen swatches. On this occasion, she was overburdened with all kinds of material. Dar had never seen such a variety of cloth. There was a wide range of colors and patterns, and the material also varied in many other ways. Besides the familiar wool, there was cloth that Dar had never encountered before. The samples ran from sheer to weighty, and the weaves differed greatly.
    Thorma-yat presented the plethora of choices without expressing any opinions, but Nir-yat helped Dar without being obvious. She eschewed bright colors and strong patterns, steering Dar toward a rich but understated look. She preferred textured weaves, soft greens and blues, and warm earth tones. Toward the end of the fabric showing, Dar perceived that Nir-yat’s recommendations fit together to create a harmonious look. Having grown up wearing a single homespun shift until it became a rag, the idea of coordinating outfits was novel to her. If it hadn’t been for Nir-yat, Dar would have selected only a few fabrics. Instead, she chose dozens. When the selection was over, Thorma-yat surveyed the pile of cloth. “What garments shall I make from these?”
    Dar thought quickly and answered. “I wish to look at them awhile. We’ll speak tomorrow.” As the seamstress gathered up the rejected fabrics, Dar said, “You have pleased me, Thorma-yat.”
    After Thorma-yat bowed and departed, Dar turned to her sister. “Why don’t you like red?”
    Nir-yat made a face. “Only sons wear that color. You’re Muth Mauk now, not some pashi farmer.”
    “Queen Girta has red robes.”
    “And she’s washavoki. It proves my point.”
    Dar recalled the gaudy fashions she had seen in King Kregant’s court. Their bright, contrasting colors and gold embroidery differed markedly from the fabrics destined for her wardrobe. My clothes will look plain in comparison.
    Nir-yat spoke as though she had read Dar’s thoughts. “You’re everyone’s muthuri,” she said. “You should appear serene.” She held up a piece of cloth, the color of willows in a fog. “Look at this weaving. Three different threads were twisted to make this color. This is elegant work. Discerning eyes are mark of wisdom.”
    “Among washavokis, only powerful ones could wear bright colors.”
    “Here, every mother can choose anything from Thorma-yat’s stores, as long as it’s not talmauki. She can have her neva made from this or that ghastly blue-and-yellow pattern you fancied.” Nir-yat grinned. “You thought I didn’t notice, but I did.”
    “I like butterflies,” said Dar.
    “Then let them fly on your sleeping cloak, not on your neva. Speaking of nevas, we’ll discuss them next. You should be prepared when Thorma-yat returns.”
    The concept of fashion was new to Dar, and Nir-yat’s discussion of clothes seemed in another language. Dar knew the skirtlike garment was called a “neva,” and the paired capes “kefs,” but the rest of the terms were new to her. Dar found the topic dull, but calming. The immediacy of deciding on the cut and hem length for a neva kept darker matters at bay. Moreover, it cheered up Nir-yat, who was clearly interested in the subject and quite opinionated. The two planned Dar’s royal wardrobe until time for the evening meal. Dar sent sons to fetch it, glad