Beside her, two royal guards are trying to reload the toppled trunks of gowns, but she turns and orders them to stop. I look over and see that each dress, so carefully refitted and repurposed, has been shredded. Surely, the bandits didn’t do such a thing? “Leave them. They have been utterly destroyed.” She turns to me, wearing an expression of shock and indignation, “Can you imagine? Bandits? What a dreadful thing. Thank heavens Her Majesty thought to send us a royal escort or we would both be dead!” Her face flushes as her voice raises pitch. No doubt, she is thinking even now how this tragedy might be used to her advantage. Her head snaps back to me, as if she’s really looking at me for the first time. “My heavens, Sophie! Where are your clothes? Did that horrible man…?” She doesn’t finish the sentence. I know where her mind is spinning off to. If he had touched me in any way, I would be ruined.
