Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Lexi stood on a pedestal in the middle of her bedchamber, arms stretched out as if showing off her wingspan.
Madame Rosila Shadowcollar, the amazing modiste at Sevenrest, and her trio of seamstresses flitted around her with their iridescent wings, taking measurements, unrolling bolts of silks and satins, and draping them over Lexi’s shoulders to inspect the colors against her skin.
Rill stood off to one side, smiling and nodding.
“But I already have so many gowns,” Lexi said for at least the third time, still amazed that she was being dressed by fairies with wings.
“Surely, I’ll only need one or two more?
Maybe a fancy one for a ball or something?
” Dressing to impress really wasn’t in Lexi’s wheelhouse. Jeans and boots were her uniform.
Madame Rosila shook her head while clucking like a nesting hen. “Oh no, my lady, no…no…a thousand times no. Ye must be perfection itself. Ye are his Royal Highness’s consort as predicted by the prophecy.”
Perfection itself. Lexi couldn’t help but groan. “Rill?”
The maid curtsied and stepped closer. “Aye, my lady?”
“Can I at least take my boots and jacket with me? Even better, can I bring along all my clothes from my past life?”
Rill’s pale blue eyes flared wide, then nearly bulged out of her head. “Ye canna wear them, my lady. Not at the palace. It would not bode well for His Highness if ye did so.”
“I know I don’t need to wear them, but can I at least take them and have them with me? Kind of like a security blanket?”
“Shall we make her ladyship a blanket?” asked the seamstress with the sparkling pink wings, the one called Lorilin. “We dinna wish her to catch a chill.”
“No, thank you,” Lexi nodded at the seamstress before Lorilin flitted away, then turned back to Rill. “It’s a figure of speech. Sometimes, small children get attached to things that bring them comfort. Like really soft blankets or a small stuffed animal.”
Rill’s brows arched even higher, disappearing behind the fringe of her silvery white bangs. “A stuffed animal?”
“A toy. An animal made of cloth, made to look like a bear or a tiger or something. Children like hugging those things when they feel worried.” And Lexi was definitely worried about this upcoming meeting.
While she harbored no doubts about her worth, she didn’t relish the idea of having to prove herself to Jeros’s parents and their courtiers, to the entire Fae kingdom, as a matter of fact.
Jeros had told her that whatever the Court accepted, the rest of the Realm followed.
The maid relaxed, finally understanding. “Aye, my lady. I shall see that yer wee boots and jacket come with us.”
“And the rest of my things,” Lexi added.
“Aye, my lady. All yer things from yer origins shall be packed.”
“Stand straighter, my lady,” the modiste gently but firmly admonished. “The measurements for yer presentation gown must be perfection itself.”
There was that word again. Perfection. Lexi straightened her spine. “Can I lower my arms now?”
“Aye, my lady,” said another of the seamstresses around a mouthful of pins. This one had lavender wings and had been introduced as Kelmila.
The seamstress with the bright fuchsia wings, the one called Phina, whizzed by with the speed of a hummingbird. “Chin up, my lady. I must measure yer head for yer tiara, headpieces, and veils. The jewelers grow anxious.”
Unable to maintain a calm facade, Lexi lifted her chin and fixed a worried scowl on her clothes from her past. Her jeans, cotton tee, and button-up denim shirt were draped over a chair beside her red boots and jacket.
She wished she could wear those for her presentation, because those clothes helped her feel a lot braver than she felt right now.
“My lady?” Rill hovered closer, wringing her hands. “Would tea help? Or more of yer coffee?”
“I don’t even think a horse tranquilizer would help,” Lexi muttered.
“Beg pardon, my lady?”
Lexi forced herself to stand tall but refused to fake a smile. “Nothing will help, Rill. Just tell me again how this will go down when Jeros and I arrive, and remind me of what I am supposed to do.”
“Since His Highness will spell us there, we shall arrive in his private royal suite. Nothing out of the ordinary will be expected of ye there, since only servants will be present to see that we have everything we need.” As Rill talked, she paced back and forth around the cluster of seamstresses and modiste as they worked with Lexi on the pedestal.
“When ye are presented, we shall adorn ye in yer verra best gown and jewels, and His Highness shall escort ye into the royal receiving hall to meet the king and queen. The courtiers will be there as well, lining the aisle ye must walk down with the prince. Keep yer head up, walk with all the grace ye possess, and a smile would not go amiss. Once ye reach them, ye must curtsy low and not rise until His Highness straightens from his bow to his parents.”
“And then what?”
Rill made a face as if what she was about to say tasted terrible.
“Rill?” Lexi prompted. “Honest answer. Then what?”
“Then His Majesty and the queen will speak to ye. Possibly ask questions or…”
“Or?”
The maid shook her head. “I dinna ken, my lady. The king and queen are quite unpredictable.”
Lexi turned to Madame Rosila. “I want my presentation gown to match Aylryd since he will walk down the aisle with me.”
The modiste pursed her thin lips, then fluttered back with her dark purple wings, looking as though she smelled a stink. “The Fae tiger will accompany ye during yer presentation? Are ye quite certain, my lady?”
“I am drop-dead positive. Aylryd is my friend, and I get the distinct impression that I am going to need every ally I can find. I wish Pegasus could come with me.” Lexi popped every one of her knuckles, then twisted and popped her back.
She tended to pop her fingers when overly anxious.
The way things were going, she needed to pop every joint in her body.
“My lady!” Rill flew closer, waving both hands. “Dinna harm yerself. What can I fetch ye to bring ye some ease?”
“Popping doesn’t hurt,” Lexi said. “It’s just an annoying habit. Mammaw hated it.”
“I canna say as I blame her,” the modiste said with a haughty sniff.
She motioned for her seamstresses. “Since her ladyship wishes to dress as though the Fae tiger is a matching accessory, fetch me the gold silk. Few can wear it, but with her coloring, it is my hope that she can.” With her gleaming tape measure dangling around her neck and her glittering spectacles with the half-moon lenses slid to the tip of her sharp nose, she impatiently tapped the toes of her shoes together.
“And the gold satin, as well. It has a darker sheen to it. We must ensure that it does not wash her out. And tell the jewelers to fashion accessories of the finest jet and onyx. A waterfall necklace, perhaps. The black beads will set off the gold and match her tiger’s stripes. ”
Lexi tried not to release another heavy sigh.
Madame Rosila and her seamstresses were only doing as they had been commanded.
She dreaded this meeting with a passion because everything she had witnessed, everything she had heard, said the Fae valued perfection and beauty above all else.
Perfect and beautiful, she was not. She didn’t think of herself as ugly because of her scars, but she possessed what she considered a realistic opinion of her looks.
She had good points and bad—just like anyone else. “Rill?”
“Aye, my lady?”
“How likely is it for the king and queen to accept me? Despite my scars.” Forewarned was forearmed, and by golly, she wanted to be forearmed.
The maid stared at her with an expression that could only be described as tortured. Jeros had said the Fae Serving Clan could never lie to those they served. It wasn’t in their DNA.
“I need to know, Rill.” Lexi noticed the modiste and seamstresses had quietly drifted off to one side and busied themselves in another part of the room.
Rill clutched her hands to her waist and kept her gaze lowered. “It is unlikely the queen will ever accept ye, my lady. I am unsure how His Majesty, the King, will react.”
“And their courtiers? How will they react?” Lexi braced herself because the poor maid looked as though she were about to faint dead away.
“It is of the utmost importance for yer gowns to exemplify the verra best of yer lovely figure. Madame Rosila will see to it. That is why an entire royal wardrobe must be prepared.”
“That is not what I asked.” Lexi hated to put the maid on the spot, but she needed to know. “I have a fair idea, but I need to know if what I am expecting is realistic.”
“What are ye expecting, my lady?” Rill asked quietly.
“I expect them to either spit on me and kick me out or hide their eyes and run.” Lexi huffed a sad laugh. “They won’t understand that my scars symbolize strength and survival. They won’t think about what I went through to get them.”
Rill knelt and bowed her head, as did Madame Rosila and her workers. “We understand, my lady, and we are proud to serve ye.”
“In our eyes,” the modiste said, “ye are a rare beauty who has taught us much since yer arrival.” She bowed her head lower. “And we thank ye for the lesson.”
Their alliance helped Lexi feel a little more courageous than before. But that didn’t change the fact that the outlook for this royal visit was dismal.
* * *
“Yer personal guard is ready,” Commander Darkcord said, “and I shall personally follow yerself and our lady at the presentation. I dinna trust those bastards.”