A year later, spring had returned to Ravenmoor, and the lavender was once again in full bloom.
Alina stood at the cutting table in the sunlit courtyard. She wasn't sewing military collars anymore. The workshop had evolved. The tables were now covered in cotton and wool. They made dresses, coats, and children's clothing for the traders in the market. The women now sewed their own designs, earned their own money, and stitched their own names into the labels.
Marguerite walked past, carrying a heavy wooden plaque. She stopped at the garden gate, pulled a hammer from her apron, and began driving a nail into the stone.
"I told you an official title was unnecessary," Marguerite said over her shoulder, hanging the plaque that read:
Head of the Ravenmoor Women's Workshop.
"And I told you that a Duchess gets what she wants," Alina replied, leaning against the table with a smile.
