Chapter VIII -- Hand-fasting

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I came awake betimes, earlier than I'd have liked, to the sound of my chamber door opening and a woman's voice murmuring softly from the other side of the linen curtains cocooning my nest of wool and furs.

"Up you get, Ariana!"

A hand appeared betwixt the curtains and gently moved them aside so that I now beheld the angelic face of the lady of the household. She could be nothing less than that noble dame — I should have realized this when first I met her — for she was dressed in a fine, bright blue silk gown, a yellow kirtle visible at her neckline, and a purple, fur-lined, brocade mantle that was clasped at her neck with a brooch which had been excellently crafted to resemble a silver wolf.

Now that the light was streaming in through my window, I took the opportunity to study her striking features. I could see now that she had bequeathed her chin to Lucian, for she too bore a cleft in her chin, but where his seemed only to harden his features, hers seemed to add strength to her jaw. Her smile was utterly contagious and I found myself responding to the dimples either side of her cheeks, wondering if Lucian too possessed that trait — were he of a mind to smile. Alas, I did not think the man knew how.

Overall, her face was a lovely one, but the shape of her nose and thickness of her brows ensured that she did not appear too delicate; on the contrary, she looked as one entirely comfortable and suited to her position beside the master of Nørrdragor, and I might have thought her beauty formidable if not for the softness in her eyes and the dimples that so easily complimented the effervescence of her smile. All this was framed by flaxen hair that was tied into two pale, yellow braids that were coiled to hide her ears, as was proper — like two artfully woven buns on each side of her face. Over this she wore a veil and beaded crespines of fine gold that were linked by a golden, bejeweled fillet forming the top of the gold netting.

"Welcome, my dear! I apologize for not having received you properly last eventide, but I was indisposed. My poor Caine cut open his thigh just afore you arrived and once I'd seen to him, you had already retired." She looked so overwrought that I quickly reassured her.

"Not at all my lady! I was made to feel most welcome, I thank you! I hope Caine is not too seriously injured?"

"Please, call me Anne. I'll not have such formality between us!" She then addressed the circumstances of her son's wound by first waving her hand in a manner that bespoke of the triviality of the affliction. "The fault is all his own. He was playing too roughly with one of the other boys, Frederick, and fell on his own blade. Tis a lesson he shan't soon forget!" She seemed highly vexed by the thought so I kept silent. "Now then! Let us get you dressed for mass."

She opened the curtains all the way, tying each drapery to one of the four posts, and bade Astrid fetch me some bread, cheese and a mug of goat milk so that I might break my fast for she was rather shocked by how scrawny I appeared.

"Heavens, child! What a fragile-looking, little thing you are! This will not do at all!"

I was not offended by any means. On the contrary, I basked contentedly in her maternal cosseting. How could I be offended when she delivered her critique so kindly? In fact, I was becoming very quickly enamored of Lady Anne. She chatted happily all the while I saw to my ablutions. I used the chamber pot and then washed my face and hands in the basin of icy water by my bedside.

When I had finished the last of my breakfast, Anne helped me into a delicate, low-cut, linen chemise, a soft pair of green, woolen hose tied just above my knees by garters, a light green kirtle and, over that, a tight-fitting, yellow, silk gown that laced up the sides beautifully, my kirtle contrasting nicely at the scooped neckline and the long, fashionable sleeves ending in adorable lappets. I had never been clothed in such luxury and thought today perhaps a special occasion I was not aware of. What other reason might there be for such beautiful raiments?

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