Chapter 38 Dress for Success #2
But finally, they stood back to allow room for a new set of women to step forward with another blasted corset, and a wide underskirt that they puddled on the carpet and asked me to step into, pulling it smoothly up my legs and over my hips to cover me one blink before the corset was drawn over my body and they began the laborious job of tightening the laces at my back.
Despite the discomfort of having my innards rearranged by the unforgiving corset, it was a relief to no longer be standing in a room full of clothed women, absolutely bare.
A long, sheer veil of fabric appeared over my head suddenly. I instinctively reached to push it back from my face, but the maid caught my hand. “It’s to protect your hair. The dress is one piece and will drop over your head,” she said kindly.
I was instructed to raise my arms, and watched, stunned, as the maids raised the dress on those sticks, so high the skirts dangled overhead, then it was lowered to slide down my body, pausing only to ensure I’d slipped my hands through the small, puffed sleeves, then it continued down to rest on my hips and shoulders, still gaping at the back.
The queen had ignored the process, continuing to speak with other servants—particularly the one with the book—but she turned when the ladies slipped the veil off my head and two of them bent to begin buttoning the dozens of loop-and-round buttons that lined the back of the dress from the hollow of my spine, to almost cover my shoulder blades.
There was a great deal of activity suddenly, women straightening pleats, tucking the neckline, pulling the hem wide to rest lightly extended on the carpet—and then the last of heat at my back and fussing with buttons ceased.
A pair of silver slippers were slipped onto my feet, then everyone stood back.
I stood in the circle of servants, staring, wide-eyed at the queen as she glided over to stand next to the kind maid, her expression thoughtful.
“Do we dare use the powders?” she said, speaking to the maid.
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe it would be wise, Your Majesty. If she’s to be seen as na?ve, you risk suspicion.”
The queen tipped her head as if she wasn’t sure that was a bad thing, but in the end she flapped a hand.
“There isn’t time, anyway. Come, Bren,” she said, beckoning to me.
“You need to see yourself before we leave. We are a few minutes late, but I am Queen. They will wait,” she said with a grin that made my stomach flutter.
But I followed her as she turned, stopping me right before a large mirror on the wall.
It took a moment to realize the woman I saw in the mirror was me.
This vision stared out of the shining surface, eyes wide below hair that had been swept high and twisted, while small tendrils curled to dust her jaw and shoulders.
The neckline of her dress was wide, dropping from the points of her shoulders, straight down, and then across in a nearly-square shape to leave her collarbones and upper chest bare, and a full two inches of cleavage plumped almost to a shelf by the corset.
The fit was severe around the torso, but the soft, puffy sleeves extended the curve of her shoulders and the skirt fell in gentle, rose colored pleats from the point of the bodice that fanned wider towards the floor, in flat panels to the hips, where small gathers created a dramatic flare.
The dress bore no embroidery, but was trimmed in a silver fabric that glimmered when the wearer moved.
I could barely believe that stunning creature was me.
If it hadn’t been for the darker skin tone on my face than my neck and chest, which were usually covered by leathers, and the deep tan on the backs of my hands while my arms remained mostly pale, I wouldn’t have seen anything but a lady in the picture before me.
But there was no time to drink her in, or accustom myself to the image. The queen clapped her hands again, ordered the servants to fall back, then led me from the room, calling for our escort.
The moment we stepped through the door into the hallway beyond, four men positioned themselves—two behind, and two before—ushering us through the halls.
“You will be a curiosity—be prepared for stares,” the queen said to me casually.
“But this is your opportunity to familiarize yourself with the mixed company of nobles, and their exchanges,” she said dryly.
“Remain at my side only if the conversation includes us both. If I draw away, or if someone invites you to join them at another seat, go with them confidently. That will confuse them,” she said with a soft chuckle.
“Don’t fear them—nothing can happen to you here, especially since I’ve brought you among them.
But do watch your words. None of that shocked, commoner judgment, you remember? ”
I nodded, my stomach twisting. But there was no time for the nerves to grow, because a moment later we stopped outside a massive pair of doors that made a single arch. The footman ahead of me barked an order to the guards at the door, who rushed to grasp the thick, iron handles.
“Take my elbow,” Diaan whispered as the doors swung wide. I hurriedly slipped my hand into her elbow, then returned to facing the front and the room revealed beyond.
“Her Majesty the Queen, Diaan en’ Del Rea, our blessed mother of the realm, and her companion, Brennan Kearney!” the footman announced.
The dearth of titles around my name was a stark contrast. But I barely registered it as a small crowd of men and women dressed like rulers themselves, turned from their conversations and clusters around the wide room, to stare and silently watch us enter their domain.
As the only noise in the room was our heels on the black-and-white tiled floor, it echoed in the high, cathedral-like ceiling above as the queen led me—on her arm—through the crowds who all swept aside, bowing or curtseying to her and murmuring greetings.
And she smiled like the cat who’d gotten the cream.