The Bound (Ascension #2)(47)
“What a wonderful suggestion,” Orden said smoothly. “I’m sure Queen Jesalyn would love to have two new female attendants who are so reserved, soft-spoken, and altogether well-rounded ladies.”
Cyrene didn’t dare look at him. She plainly understood his suggestion.
“Yes, I believe my wife would love some new attendants. We should keep them close by,” he said, eyeing them carefully. “Schumle, please escort these women to the Queen and let her know that I have given her these ladies-in-waiting as a gift with my blessing.”
One of his female attendants dipped a curtsy to the King, her bosom nearly falling out of her corset. “This way,” she said to the girls.
Avoca shared a glance with Cyrene before following. She was glad to be leaving the heinous King behind them, but she was not looking forward to meeting Kael’s sister.
Cyrene straightened out her shoulders and held her head high. This was no time to panic. She couldn’t change anything that was about to happen.
Schumle stopped in front of a huge gilded door. Music was playing on the other side, and they could hear laughter. Schumle didn’t look pleased about entering these quarters.
Schumle entered the room and announced them. “Your Highness, gifts from your husband, the King. Two ladies-in-waiting, Madam Mardas and Madam Rourke.”
Cyrene and Avoca curtsied lowly before Queen Jesalyn. The music stopped playing, and all around them was silence.
The room was filled with over a dozen women in extravagant clothing with their hair piled high on their heads in extreme curls and their fingers dripping in jewels. The room itself was plush and lavish. The divans were all a soft cream, blush, and champagne-coloring and heavy on the lace with excessively gaudy trim.
The Queen sat among her ladies on a large circular cushion covered in cream silk. She wore a pink dress in the highest of Aurumian fashion with skirts that bunched around her hips to reveal several layers of darker pink and a corset that accented her tiny waist. It seemed the trend in court hadn’t yet trickled down to the commoners for the billowy sleeves had been replaced with a tight fit to her elbows and lace trim on the sleeves and the neckline. Her dark hair was in the same enormous curls with a long white feather pinned in, attached to a brooch of diamonds.
But it was the blue-gray eyes that made Cyrene stop. Those ran in the family.
“Well, what do we have here?” Queen Jesalyn asked. “Gifts from my husband. Oh, how I love gifts. You may rise.”
They rose and waited, praying that Cyrene’s disguise was enough.
“And what…lovely gifts they are.” Jesalyn choked on her laughter.
Her other ladies couldn’t hold it together.
“Why, I’m not sure what to do with commoners in such…clothing and without a single trace of makeup. Why, I still think I’m the only one who can wear my face natural, but that is the Dremylon grace.”
Cyrene nearly sighed with relief. If Jesalyn thought her face was unadorned, then her mask had worked. That was all that mattered. Not Jesalyn’s catty behavior or rude comments.
“Where did you get such…pretty garments and in such beautiful colors?” Jesalyn asked.
Her ladies snickered behind their hands as they exchanged glances with each other.
Cyrene sighed. It was hard enough, keeping two Dremylons in line, and she didn’t want to have to deal with a third.
“Our apologies, Your Majesty,” Cyrene said, offering a second curtsy. She wanted Jesalyn to think she was obedient. “We’re from the Western banks of Aurum, near the Byern border at Albion. The styles of Queen Kaliana permeate into our city.” Cyrene stepped forward, seeing that she had gotten Jesalyn’s attention. “When we traveled here for the festival season, we had commissioned dozens of gowns for the journey, and we each carried three trunks with us, only to discover that the gorgeous silks and humble slim-fitting gowns hadn’t yet traveled this far east.”
Jesalyn turned up her nose at the slight insult. To say that the Queen of Byern had a style that had not yet reached Aurum would surely put Jesalyn in a tizzy for new gowns, if she were the type of person that Cyrene suspected she was.
“We bought new attire in the city when we arrived so that the citizens wouldn’t keep marveling at our gowns and asking about the patterns,” Cyrene continued. “It was quite wearisome, as you can imagine. We were just unaware that we would receive a summons on such short notice or else we would have made ourselves more presentable for Your Majesty.” Cyrene kept her smile as sugary sweet as possible.
Avoca idly stood by. At least she didn’t glare at Jesalyn.
“Well, I am always interested in new fashions. Aren’t I, girls?” Jesalyn asked her ladies. “Perhaps you will offer your trunks of gowns to my husband as a gift to me, as he has so graciously offered you hospitality.”
Avoca tensed next to Cyrene.
“I would have, of course, Your Highness, but we already sold most of the gowns to have new ones commissioned in your style while we were here.”
“How unfortunate,” Jesalyn said with false sympathy.
Just then, a woman scurried into Jesalyn’s quarters, bumping into Avoca. She quickly strode around Avoca and ducked her chin to her chest. “Queen Jesalyn.” She dipped into a curtsy. “I apologize for my tardiness.”
Cyrene turned to gaze at the intruder, and her mouth nearly fell open.