"Lady Ariashal! You are to be married tomorrow and you still have not finished your dress? You know that is bad luck!"
Ariashal smiled at her old nurse, her blue eyes bright. "No, Nanna, I have not. But see? I will have all the embroidery done soon." She flipped the chemise over.
Her old nurse shook her head. "You know you must not tempt fate like this! This will be your fifth marriage. You cannot start it under a cloud, not unless you want it to end like the others."
Sighing, Ariashal stopped sewing. "I promise you, I do not want that either."
Nanna would not be satisfied. She put the neatly-folded cloak on one of the chairs. "You are lucky to have such a handsome lord as Prince Rhadam to wed. And he is not afraid of your curse! If you do not finish . . . " Her voice trailed off in warning.
"Unless I partake of some victuals, Nanna, I fear I shall succumb to fatigue forthwith."
Nanna bowed. "Of course, my lady, and while you sup I shall busy myself tidying the sewing room."
As Ariashal's footsteps receded Nanna picked up the embroidered dress and set about delicately undoing Ariashal's hours of labor, carefully removing each stitch.
Perhaps Ariashal would never return Nanna's secret feelings, but the notion of some filthy man sharing Ariashal's bed was too much to bear. And if sabotaging the wedding dress failed to prevent the wedding, there was always Plan B: Ariashal's "curse." After all, it had worked four times before . . .
Opening: Anonymous.....Continuation: Lightsmith