The two serving women, Madam Thomas and Madam Coutour, scrubbed her down. All too soon they wanted her to leave the glorious tub. They dried her off like she was a small child. Then they rubbed some sort of lotion with glitter in it onto her arms and legs. Next, they cleaned and polished her fingernails and toenails before painting them gold. Such an odd custom. Then finally, they helped Nora into a new chemise, but the material was silk, and the stitches were made with golden string. It was fit for a queen. The madams continued to dress her, each item more extravagant. Golden garters, silk stockings, and an intricately gold-embroidered corset, which they cinched much too tightly.
They led Nora from the bathing room to another small chamber, which had an entire wall of mirrors and a vanity table covered in cosmetics and brushes. Madam Thomas lifted a white powder jar to paint her face, but Nora took it from her hands and put it back on the table. The woman sighed and instead picked up a compact with purple eye powder. Deftly, Madam Thomas applied it to her eyelids. She sat very still as the madam added kohl around her eyes and blackened her already dark lashes. Nora’s eyes were shadowed from lack of sleep, and with the addition of the kohl, they looked owlish. The last cosmetic she allowed Madam Thomas to put on her face was a little red lipstick.
Her hair was nearly dry when Madam Coutour began to comb it into an enormous coiffure that made Nora’s hair look as big and as unnatural as a wig. The majority of her hair was one big purple poof ball, with six single ringlets at the bottom. Madam Thomas re-entered the room with a golden crown covered in white diamonds, a diamond necklace, and matching earrings resting on a pillow. She set the pillow down on the vanity before carefully slipping the earrings into the holes on Nora’s earlobes and clasping the necklace around her throat. Then she lifted the crown and placed it on Nora’s head.
Nora had never worn a crown before and the weight of it surprised her. It was heavy and pinched the top of her head. She stared at herself in one of the many mirrors. Even in her small clothes, she looked like a queen. It was a heady feeling.
The madams bid her to follow them into another chamber, larger than before, where another serving maid stood waiting, holding the weird wicker apparatus that went around her waist to make her hips appear large. Madam Coutour tried to put it on her waist, but Nora shook her head.
“Pannier,” Madam Coutour insisted, attempting once more to put it around her waist.
Nora pushed it away. “Pan-no.”
The madam clucked her tongue and offered the odd contraption once more. Nora firmly refused it.
The door opened and Madam Thomas walked into the room with an exquisite white gown with gold embroidery lying on her arms.
It was a wedding gown.
Nora breathed in slowly, but she did not fight the madams as they dressed her in that exquisite gown. For the final touch, each madam placed a gold sandal on each foot so that her golden toenails could still be seen. The serving women smiled and clapped at their finished product.
Walking behind them to her own wedding, she knew, without a doubt, that she would not marry Alexandre. She could not. They had formed a close bond when he had come to their aunt’s funeral nine years ago. They had each shared their darkest secrets.
She would not marry him, even to save her own life. Matteo had stolen her heart and Elea had a piece of her soul. Nora had promised to protect her cousin and her throne at all costs, an oath of loyalty tobreak the soul.
A pair of footmen opened the double doors to a large chapel. The sight of it took her breath away. There must have been thousands of white roses in there. The pews on both sides of the aisle were packed with aristocrats, some with white wigs and some with purple (to mimic her goddess hair). The courtiers stood when a string quartet began to play the wedding march. They all stared at her.
Nora glanced over her shoulder through the open doors; the hall was full of black-jacketed soldiers. There was no going backward, so she slowly began to walk forward. King Pierre and Queen Maria sat on thrones at the front of the chapel, behind the bishop. Alexandre was in a suit of pure gold and stood beside the bishop. His face was powdered and painted, and he wore the most elaborate white wig of ringlets that Nora had ever seen. She walked resolutely toward him and stopped when she reached him. Her old friend gave her a tremulous smile, but she could not return it. The musicians played their final note.
The bishop cleared his throat and opened his holy book.
“I am sorry, Alexandre,” Nora said in the high tongue, “but I cannot marry you.”
“Please reconsider, Eleanora,” Alexandre said. “We could be great together, and I promise not to interfere with your ruling of Urka.”
She heard gasps and snickers from the courtiers.
Prince Alexandre reached for her hand and she let him take it. He turned her palm over so that he could see the scar.
“As you already know, I am not Queen Eleanora but her cousin. And I swore on my soul to protect her. I cannot and will not betray her.”
“I don’t care if you are the heir or the spare,” King Pierre spat, standing up and bumping the bishop as he brushed past him. “You have a rightful claim to the Urkan throne, and you will marry my son or you will die!”
Nora shook her head. “I gave my blood oath to Elea. My soul is bound to hers for all the eternities.”
King Pierre pointed at her, spittle dangling from the side of his mouth. “Blast your oath. Blast your goddess. I am the king and I say you will marry my son!”
She folded her arms and decided to play her last card. A hope, or a bluff. “Before we were captured, I sent a note to King Matteo of Sania. He will come for me, and he will kill anyone who stands in his way. Let me go or you will be fighting on both borders.”
The courtiers began to whisper and murmur.
King Pierre’s upper lip curled in a sneer. “Our informant said that he refused to consummate the marriage and fulfill the treaty. King Matteo would not lift a finger to help you now.”
“King Matteo refused to consummate the marriage with Elea,” Nora said, pointing a shaking finger to herself, “because he is enamored with me. He begged me to stay with him in Sania until he could obtain an annulment for the proxy marriage. Hewillcome for me, and your people will pay a terrible price if you try to keep me from him. He will not stop until he has pillaged your capital and taken this palace.”
Nora shoved her shaking hands into her voluminous skirt. She couldn’t let King Pierre see her fear. Her bluff.
A rather large duchess fainted into the unwilling arms of a small male courtier. Others in the crowd pointed and whispered.