“Jewelry?”
“After I dress. I don't want it to snag the cloth.” She takes a step toward the door. What if she goes for Father? “Perhaps if you helped me with a small piece, it won't harm the dress.”
Her face relaxes a little. She drapes me with jewels. A ring on every finger and a few on my toes, a reminder of the fewest warlocks I'm to have, though it didn't work well for mother. Seven necklaces, reminders of my fiancee’s claim. They feel like chains, weighing me down. An arm band, five bracelets, and five anklets on each limb feel the same. But no earrings. Nothing to block me from hearing the requests of my future husband.
“There now. That's the last jewelry you'll ever wear. When your owner takes it off tonight, you'll never don another. Would you like me to help you into the dress your mother sent?”
I hide a grimace at the slight thing. “No, thank you. It's the only time I can dress myself.” Which is true, but not in the way she thinks. She doesn't move. “Alone, if I may.”
“You haven't sipped your tea.”
The cup is cold in my hands. I put it to my lips and sip. The liquid is tepid and tastes of leaves and dirt.
“All of it.”
I glare at her and she glares back. The threat of Father is too heavy for me to ignore. Trying not to think about it, I down the tea as fast as I can.
She nods. “You have fifteen minutes. If you need help, I'll be right outside the door.”
Without another word, she leaves. As soon as the door latches, I shed the jewelry. With every piece, a load is taken from me, not just physically, but deep inside, lightening my very being. Once they're all back in their box, I apply the face paint. Not a lot, just some color on my eyes, cheeks, and lips. Finally, I grab my package. I pause for a moment. It would be easier if my sisters were here. Perhaps Katherine as well.
My fingers quiver as I unwrap it and put it on. The laces gathered on the front slow me a moment, but then I have it tied. The dress is silken against my skin.
I'm a little dizzy as I look in the mirror. The dress is a blood red, draping past my feet. The material is tight on my arms, but not restrictive, and comes down to my wrists where the back half bells out to the floor. The neckline is square and modest, but leaving my collar bone free. My lightly painted face smiles back.
There's not long before someone will come to get me. I'd prefer to go out there where there's less likely to be a scene. I hope. At least I'll be one step closer to where I need to be wearing this dress and one step farther from being forced into the slip.
Before I go, I stop at the jewelry box and make one concession. A silver necklace with a single square ruby. Mother's favorite. Whenever we take the jewelry box out, she threads it through her fingers and admires it before putting it back. As I put it on, my head feels a little fuzzy. The world tilts a little before righting itself. When the dizziness stops, I let the jewel rest against my chest. After several deep breaths to try and clear my head, I open my door and stride into an antechamber.
Father is talking to Phyllis and doesn't notice me. The world starts to pull away. Or maybe I'm pulling away from the world. Things seem far away. Off. A door closes somewhere.
Phyllis spots me and yelps.
Father follows her gaze to me and halts whatever he's saying. “What is that?” He gapes at me several moments, his face growing redder by the second. “You will change into the dress your mother provided immediately.”
I don't want to, but my far off body turns toward my room. A hand closes around my arm, stopping me.
“Don't change.” The Envadi lords over to me.
“Do you see what your future bride is wearing?” Father says. “She's dressed like a harlot.”
How can he think that? My dress is infinitely more modest than the traditional one. Yet the words bite. I've never been called such a name. I want to hide, but my body doesn't respond.
The Envadi's face is hard, his voice just above a whisper. “I gave her permission to wear it.”
“Are you mad? You must call off this ceremony immediately. You obviously can't control the wench. I'll take her in hand until she's subdued enough for the ceremony.”
“And how long do you think that will take?”
“Certainly no less than a year.”
The Envadi scoffs. “The ceremony will happen today and she will continue to reside at the manor.”
“You can't mean that.” Father's voice is lower now, but more dangerous. “You'd have her dressed as a red tarnished?”
No one says a word. I feel as if tears should be forming, but nothing comes. It's hard to be grateful I'm not fighting the weakness when I can't seem to do anything. Finally, the Envadi speaks.
“The ceremony will take place now or you will face the penalty of a broken contract.”
Why is he sticking up for me?
Father pounds toward me, hand raised.