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brambles—I affirm to myself that this woman will be well paid for her work today. 
    Two young children—one boy no older than eight or nine, and a girl, only five or six years of age— run about in the woods just behind the cottage. Their laughs warm my heart, but the dirt caked on their skin, the clothes falling off their slim bodies, break it. 
    Madrid knocks on the cracked, warped door. The seamstress, a plump but jolly woman—despite her hardships—greets us with a flourish to welcome us to her home. 
    “Your Highness, please come in.” She points to a chair that appears to be her finest piece of furniture, which also breaks my heart because it looks like it will fall apart if I stare at it too hard, let alone sit on it.
    I don’t sit. Instead, I glance around. Her oldest daughter, Ellie, kneels beside the fire, tending to whatever is boiling in the pot above it. 
    “What happened to your shop?” I glance around again before turning to look at Nadi. Her cheeks redden, her fingers clasped around her box of sewing equipment, fidgeting. She looks so worn, despite her smiles. 
    She cannot look me in the eye as she speaks. “We had to sell it.” Her voice comes out as hardly more than a whisper. I approach her, grasping her shoulders. 
    “Why? Are you not the finest seamstress in this entire kingdom?” 
    She glances up at me, barely making eye contact. “I would like to think so, Your Highness. But times are hard. Harold, my husband, has fallen ill. While he cannot work, I must work twice as much.” She looks to Madrid—who is now sitting in the worn chair—back to me, and then down at the floor. “But never mind that, Your Highness. I should not burden you with my concerns. Would you like some tea? Ellie is boiling the water.” She nods toward Ellie, smiling as best she can. 
    “Th—that would be lovely, thank you.” I fumble over my words, just wanting to weep for this woman and all she is going through. 
    Nadi sets her box on the table and begins working. “Please raise your arms,” she says and starts taking my measurements. 
    “Nadi, please. It is my concern. You should not be living like this. Have you not requested to speak with the king about your condition? You are the royal seamstress. He should offer all the help the kingdom has to give.” I cannot stand here and have this woman make me gowns of the richest quality when she cannot even feed her family.
    “We will make do, Your Highness. I assure you.” I hear the tremble in her voice. 
    Unable to hold still any longer, I drop my arms and turn to face her. “Listen to me. I will take care of this. Do not worry about making my clothes today. You have other matters to attend to. Has your husband seen the physician?” 
    “No. We can’t afford it.” She bites her bottom lip, tears welling in her eyes. 
    “Put away your tools.” I turn to Madrid, who sits with a smile playing on her lips. She is used to my antics, helping those I find who need it even when I am supposed to be doing something else entirely. “Madrid, please return to the castle and fetch the royal physician at once.”
    She nods and leaves without another word. I look back at the seamstress. “Now, let us see what we can do for your husband. Where is he?” She doesn’t reply, but turns and walks down the narrow hall.
    She opens the door to her left and steps aside, allowing me to pass her. She enters the room behind me, and the tears she so carefully held back spring forth. 
    Her husband fidgets in his sleep, a sheen of sweat covering his brow. He does not look well at all. “What happened?” I can’t look away from him, terrified that whatever is killing him is too far along to be stopped. 
    She can’t speak. I don’t blame her. She lifts the blanket covering the man’s leg. A cut almost the entire length of his shin has been infected. Bile builds up in my throat. Nadi puts the blanket back over the top of the injury. 
    “The physician will