The Consolation Prize (Brides of Karadok #3) - Alice Coldbreath Page 0,8
it has no sleeves at all!”
“No,” Una agreed. “We generally wear a second shift on top of it that has the sleeves. This one is just for next to the skin.”
“Do you sleep in that?” Jane asked, reaching out a hand to touch the filmy fabric of the skirt. “Would you not …” She hesitated, her cheeks flaming. “Fall out of it?”
“If it is cold then I would leave on the outer shift also. As for falling out of it,” Una glanced down at her deep bosom and then back at Jane who was girlishly slight. ”I never have.”
Jane’s lips formed an “Oh,” before he gave herself a slight shake. “Are you ready to—”
Una shook her head and pointed to her frizzy yellow hair. “First I have to remove my wig,” she explained.
“Wig?” squeaked Jane, and Una nodded. “You—you wear a wig, princess?”
“Of course,” Una said shrugging. Her father had worn one and her previous understanding was that all royals did. Now, at Jane’s incredulous reaction, it dawned on her that in this, as in all things, the Blechmarshes were distinct in adhering to the most uncomfortable and rigid of practices. She sighed and sat on the wooden chair, taking up the little bowl she reserved for this purpose, and reaching up began removing the headful of hairpins she wore to secure the false mane in place. After a moment or two of stunned silence beside her, Jane joined her in the task and Una was glad to find her fingers were gentle as she extracted pin after pin and added them to the bowl.
“Wearing all these must give you a blinding headache,” Jane murmured as she extracted the last of the clips.
“My scalp does get very tender,” Una admitted. “But again, after today I will be free from this also, so …”
Finally, the hairpiece felt looser on her head and Una gave it a tentative tug until the whole mass of tight yellow curls came away in her hands. Jane covered her mouth with her hands and stared at her. Una flung the wig on top of the pile of discarded brocade, leather, and wood that comprised of her former self. “There lies Princess Una,” she said softly. Jane turned and stared at the cast-offs almost fearfully. Indeed, Una had to admit looking at the heap, that it almost looked like the poor Northern princess had collapsed in on herself, especially with the distinctive wig sat atop of the sprawling mass.
“It almost seems like we should bury it,” Jane blurted.
Una gave a laugh, surprising her companion greatly. The expression of humor sounded rusty and out of practice coming from her lips. Indeed, she could not remember the last occasion she had had to use it. “Hello,” she said. “I’m Una.” Jane’s eyes grew rounder. “And you must not call me princess anymore.”
Jane made a strangled sound in her throat. “We … we had better see to your hair,” she said, looking almost frightened. Una nodded and together they removed yet another mass of hairpins until her auburn hair was unfastened from the tight braids wound about her head and hung down to her waist in a thick fall of dark reddish-brown.
“I can scarce recognize you,” Jane breathed.
“How much longer will you be?” Queen Armenal demanded. “You’ve been an age, I vow! Bring her out, Jane! The groomsmen must nigh be upon us!”
Wordlessly Jane took her hand, and Una allowed herself to be led around from the screens toward the center of the room, where a large bed lay on a raised platform, covered in rose petals.
“Finally—” the Queen began, before another of her ladies let out a shriek. There must have been seven ladies stood in the room, spreading petals and draping garlands of flowers over the four-poster so it looked like a bower more than a bedchamber. Every one of them turned now to stare at Una with frozen expressions of varying stupefaction.
“That’s never the princess!” Lady Fenella Vawdrey cried, dropping her end of the garland. “Whatever have you done to her, Jane?” For her part, Una rather liked the country-born Countess who seemed such an odd choice of wife for the elegant Lord Vawdrey. She invariably said the wrong thing but was exceedingly kind for all that. Against all odds, her husband positively doted on her. She hurried forward now to clasp Una’s hand. “You look so much better without those awful cumbersome clothes! I suppose that extraordinary hair was really a wig, then?”