Chapter 29
Preparations
Iturn toward my rooms, but before I reach the end of the corridor, a household steward intercepts me with a quiet summons.
“Matron Oramin requests your presence.”
The palace moves around me as though nothing has happened. Servants carry trays. Courtiers pass in murmuring pairs. By the time I reach the instruction wing, my face is composed again.
Matron Oramin receives me in a quiet sitting room set aside for instruction. She does not rise when I enter. She gestures to the chair opposite her instead. “We will address the Prince,” she says, without preamble. “And the rumors attached to him.”
I sit.
“If he attends the ball with another woman,” Oramin continues, “you will not acknowledge the novelty of it. You will greet her as you would any lady of minor relevance. Polite. Brief. Unremarkable.”
“And if she seeks to provoke me?”
“You will allow her to succeed in nothing,” Oramin replies. “A woman hoping to wound requires reaction. You will provide none.”
I nod.
“The Prince may attempt to draw a response from you,” she adds. “He may look for injury, or anger, or humiliation.”
“I do not intend to give him any of those.”
“Good.” Matron Oramin inclines her head once. There is the faintest hint of approval in her expression. “Remain composed. Remain present. Let the room notice who falters first.”
She reaches for a small tray on the side table and slides it toward me.“The Prince asked that this be returned,” she says. “It was taken from your brother after the incident in the gardens. The chain was damaged. The Prince had it repaired before returning it."
The pendant rests against the cloth, polished, intact. I pick it up carefully and refasten it at my throat, beneath my gown, where it belongs.
Matron Oramin watches without comment. “It is appropriate that you wear it,” she says at last. “It is proof that what is yours cannot be taken from you.”
“Thank you.”
She rises then. “You are prepared. The rest will be decided in public.”
When she leaves, Brinette is waiting near the door, her attention already drawn to the faint movement of the chain as I adjust it.
“Good,” she says. “I was hoping that would come back to you.”
“You knew.”
She smiles. “Everyone did. Few were pleased by how it left.”
She links her arm through mine. “Come. Your fitting is ready, and I have gossip that will amuse you.”
The dressmakers’ chamber hums with activity. Fabric is lifted, pinned, adjusted. The gown waits on its stand, draped in a fall of silk.
As the attendants begin their work, Brinette lowers her voice.
“Jessamy has been the Prince’s friend for years,” she says. “Hunts. Suppers. Long familiarity.”
“Friend,” I echo.
“That variety.” Brinette nods. “She is Lord Fyne’s niece. She is illegitimate, his brother’s bastard, I believe. Quite beautiful. She was hopeful that constancy might earn her a marriage proposal.”
I raise an eyebrow. “That did not work out well for her, then.”
“It did not,” she agrees. “In better news, the word is that she returns to Shalvar tomorrow.”
“Shalvar? The land of animals?”
Brinette laughs. “Creatures,” she corrects. “Your Prince is well-respected there.”
“And Jessamy is a four-legged creature too?”
“I believe so,” she says. “Her mother is a Kyvarin, I would imagine she is too.”
Kyvarins. I couldn’t remember if it they were more wolf-like or cat-like. A thought occurred to me. “Wait,” I said. “If she is illegitimate, why is she not veiled?”
“She was born in Shalvar and spends most of her time there, so when she is here she is treated as any other foreign visitor would be,” Brinette answers.
“But make no mistake, she is aware of her status and likely hoped to gain legitimacy through a marriage to the Prince.” She laughs lightly.
“Unfortunately for her, the Prince married another illegitimate instead.”
She arches an eyebrow. "Although rumor has it, the bastard Princess was never a bastard but a golden-eyed pureblood."
I smile sadly. “Golden eyes or not, she was with him on our wedding night.”
Brinette’s expression remains pleasant. “And she has ruined herself in the process. Now that it is public that she is not a virgin, she will never be declared legitimate by the Veynar court.”
Indeed, the rules are clear. A veiled woman must pass a purity test and receive approval from both the King and the Canon before the “stain” of illegitimacy can be lifted.
The gown is lifted into place and Brinette lets out a satisfied breath. “Yes. That will do.”
“They will stare,” she adds. “They will pretend they are assessing craftsmanship. They will fail.”
"And," she continues, “some may think the Prince means to insult you with whomever he brings on his arm, but others may think that perhaps you declined his company given his alleged affliction." She giggles.
“I handled it well,” I say smugly.
She nods. “Perfectly. The rumors are circulating exactly as they should. That you are composed. That the Prince looks foolish. That you look untouchable.”
I study my reflection. The pendant rests hidden beneath the bodice, secure.
“This,” Brinette says, touching the sleeve lightly, “is a dress worn by a woman who understands the room.”
I smile. Gold and burgundy fall down my body in silk and lace, sheer where it dares to be and opaque where it must be, the fabric skimming my skin rather than concealing it. It is daring without crudity. Intentional. The sort of gown that invites attention and offers no apology for it.
By the time Maridale fastens the final clasp, I no longer recognize the woman in the mirror.
Matron Oramin returns then, studying the finished gown. She circles me once before giving a small nod of approval. “You will arrive late,” she says calmly. “And when you enter, you will pause. Let them see that you choose the room before the room chooses you.”
I lift my chin slightly. “And if my father is displeased?”
A faint smile touches her mouth. “Your father is not the King.”
When I leave my chambers, the palace is already humming with anticipation for the Baron’s ball. Servants move with purpose, courtiers dressed for departure.
But it is not the ball that lingers in my thoughts. The letter hidden in my bedside table still presses quietly at the edge of my mind. Use what you have, were the instructions.
Not tonight, I tell myself. Soon.