Aveline and Juno had been a landslide of information. Violet still felt like the earth teetered beneath her. She carried a receipt in her pocket with Chione’s original and current measurements written on it from her fittings at Darrow’s Tailor Shop. They’d directed her to a physician down the street who had seen to Leander’s burns. He refused to admit to more than treating Leander, but Violet could tell by his fear Chione had been there.
Violet had listened silently as the designer and assistant made all sorts of conjectures about Eden and his obsession with Chione since childhood. She knew they were lusting for more gossip from her own lips, but Violet refused to indulge them. Now, she was on horseback, leading the queen and her maids back to the palace after the fitting.
They had left the city behind, climbing the steep road carved into the mountainside. This was the only place free of prying eyes. Violet wouldn’t get another chance like this.