The Jack of Hearts (House of Cards Book 1)

Chapter 30 | A Marriage

Kena did all of the talking.

She narrated each step of dressing Rosalyne (the jaquelle only interrupting when Kena was veering wrong).

Most of her commentary was punctuated by cursing Aertisian tailors for inventing cages instead of clothing.

"My spirits," she said once she'd finished wrestling with Rosalyne's undergarments and was watching Rosalyne pull a sheer satin parlet over her arms and shoulders.

Kena buttoned up the high collar to the back of the neck. "You must spend half your life getting dressed -- damn, these buttons are small."

Rosalyne layered a cotton blouse over her chamise and partlet and considered this. "My ladies and I used to get ready together. It never felt arduous because I often did not wish to be elsewhere."

Kena withdrew her hands. "I'm sure you miss them."

Rosalyne opened a trunk, trying not to let the grief draw her in.

She grabbed two bodices and held them out to Kena as she might have done with her ladies. "Which is better?"

Kena didn't bother looking them over but shrugged. "Which one makes you feel better?"

Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, food, or the emotional exhaustion, but Rosalyne's face fell and devastation pulled at her mouth. "But which one is better?"

Kena was rifling through a box of hair clasps, running her fingers over the fine teeth of the combs. "Whichever one you like best."

Rosalyne huffed hefting the gowns over her arms and dragging them out to the main chamber where Clovis was tidying himself, hair wet from washing, and bent double, trimming his short beard in the reflection of a silver plate.

Clovis, ignoring the impropriety of Rosalyne's state of dress with gracious indifference, looked over the maroon and scarlet options and shook his head.

"What happened to that blue one?" Kena asked from the other room.

"The one you were wearing when we did your hair. Stars, that one was gorgeous... and, you know..." Kena popped her head through the doorway. "Not red."

Rosalyne flinched. Her wedding dress. "It was soiled by some of Rhema's — May her spirit rest — friends."

Kena pursed her lips, disappointed.

Clovis pushed his hair back. «Not anymore.»

Rosalyne shook her head. «Dys wouldn't have had time—»

«I did.»Clovis interrupted, getting to his feet. «I came back up after I escorted her highness to the wedding feast. Stains like that can set.»

Rosalyne watched open mouthed as Clovis skirted past her to her closet in her bed chamber, and followed after him.

He throw open the wardrobe, and sure enough, the midnight brocade hung there on its own. The only gown yet unpacked.

Rosalyne ran her fingers over the embroidered silk as if it were the first time she'd seen it. She rustled through the skirts searching for the soiled patch but found none.

She looked up at Clovis, the prick of emotion in her eyes.

Clovis smiled and shook his head at her display. «They would have wanted you to wear it.»

Rosalyne blinked away her feelings and bristled softly. «How would you know?»

Clovis untied the lacings and held it open. «Fine, I wish to see her wear it.»

Kena took Rosalyne's arm to help her step into the skirt.

As Kena fastened the back with much cursing of tiny ribbons, Clovis found the sleeves, drew them over her arms and tied them in place.