Barbarian

Chapter XVIII

Dalla stares into the metal mirror with scrutinizing eyes. She is gowned in an exquisite silk dress that had been traded for with the Romans months in advance just for this moment. Dalla is clothed in Roman cloth to attend a ceremony that will help in our fight against the Romans. The irony of it all is laugh-inducing.

Across the neck of her gown, soft cream gemstones have been sewn in, getting rid of the need for a torque or necklace. Her sleeves are tight and are long enough to cover half her palm. The dress is made of soft billow cloth and the top layer of the dress is transparent and so light that it seems to float around her ankles as she moves. The soft lilac color of the cloth contrasts beautifully against her pale skin but her wild hair clashes against its feminine and delicate nature. 

Ailis seems to be thinking the same thing as she gathers Dalla’s mane into her fists. “We have to do something about this,” she states with a worried glance.

“Do we have to?” Dalla protests. “I’ve always worn it loose.” 

“Well, it doesn’t have to be tied.” Ailis seems to relent. “But we need to do something to control it.”

Ailis snatches a pair of combs from the tray of tools that a servant had brought to us when we had first started the bride’s preparation.

Just as I predicted, Ailis attitude has completely changed once she got involved with the preparations. Even through the remaining inkling of her jealousy, she has made it her goal to make sure that the wedding occurs without the slightest mishap or setback. 

Handing me one of the bone-tooth combs, Ailis starts running the other through her twin’s unruly hair. I follow suit and the gesture has my ring glistening in the streak of sunlight pouring into the room from the smoke hole in the roof. 

I grin as the image of Garrick pops into my mind. 

I turn my attention back to the bride and notice that I’ve been running the comb over the same clump of hair at least a dozen times. I quickly set the comb down, thankful that no one had noticed my day dreaming as suspicions would arise. 

With her hair all combed, Dalla’s hair looks worse than before if possible. It puffs out everywhere, its frizziness overpowering her face.

“Is this what you were going for?” Dalla teases.

“I had a feeling this would happen. Don’t worry.” Ailis comforts holding out a bowl filled with a type of liquid. “We’ll just run this mixture through the hair.”

Not knowing what else to do, I grab the bowl with a shrug and dip the comb in it. Ailis does the same and soon Dalla’s tresses are soft and manageable, falling in smooth waves down the length of her back. The dark ashy brown reminds me of the mud along the river back home after a rain storm. 

Now that her hair is docile, we move on to the veil and wreath. Ailis procures a long cream veil made of the thinnest material loosely knitted together. It resembles the tightest fishing net and the edges are laced with the smallest amethysts. She quickly lays it over Dalla’s face whose features are barely perceptible through the shroud.