Lord of the Fading Lands
Page 77
With his eyes on the Baristani house, Kolis began to chant the witchwords under his breath.
If one more person made a sneering remark about the "humble coziness" of her family's home or the "new" Ellysetta Baristani, Ellie wasn't going to be responsible for what happened. Her brows drew together in a thunderous scowl. Despite vague memories of disturbing dreams, she'd woken in an exceptionally happy mood this morning, and Rain's courtship gift of Stones had made her laugh with delight, as no doubt he'd meant her to. That lightheartedness was long gone. Now, it was all she could do to stop from screaming.
The Dark Lord take this whole exhausting, frustrating, sanity- scorching idea of a wedding! She cast a blistering glare at the frenzied mob of seamstresses, florists, caterers, printers, decorators, wine merchants, cobblers, and stuffy wedding advisors surrounding her. They had descended upon her parents' house just after breakfast and turned Ellie's peaceful morning into a war zone of raucous pre-wedding activity. Every half bell, a knock would sound on the door and a new throng of visitors would pour in. Couriers bearing packages, friends wanting to extend their congratulations, neighbors just being nosy, merchants, craftsmen.
The mad, unceasing rush of people and the constant barrage of questions—each merchant had at least a hundred questions, all needing a decision now!—had long since taken their toll on her sanity and had wiped every last vestige of good humor from her mood.
Twenty gowns, Lady Marissya had decreed. Twenty! Plus an enormous monstrosity of a wedding gown that required an entire wagonload of fabric and had taken most of the morning to fit. The queen's dressmaker, Maestra Binchi, who had been noticeably more respectful and accommodating this morning, had already departed with her half- dozen seamstresses to begin work on the wedding gown, but another three court modistes and their respective gaggles of assistants were still industriously dedicating themselves to turning Ellie into a human pincushion.
"My lady, please stand still." Kneeling at Ellie's feet, one of the seamstresses blew a strand of limp brown hair out of her eyes and attempted—but failed—to sound patiently polite. The seamstress's lips were pulled taut in a grimace that Ellie concluded was supposed to be a deferential smile.
"I am standing still," Ellie replied through clenched teeth. An awful, squeezing pressure had begun building in her head earlier, as if her skull were caught in a tightening vise. The voices around her formed a merciless, pounding drum, echoing inside her head, beating at the shreds of her control.
«Las, Ellysetta.» Bel's cool voice sounded in her mind.
Peace? Peace, he said? Over the top of the opaque curtain of Spirit the Fey had woven to protect her modesty, Ellie sent Bel a glare so scorching, his leathers nearly caught on fire. The fierce warrior blinked in surprise and wisely retreated.
"Ellie" Oblivious to the brewing tempest, Lauriana approached with a selection of flowers in her hands. "For your bridal wreath, which roses do you prefer? Maiden's Blush, Sweet Kaidra, or Gentle Dawn?" She held up one of each velvety bloom, faint pink, creamy ivory, and pale yellow edged with the barest hint of orange.
"I don't care, Mama." Ellie tried desperately to hold on to her temper. "You choose.”
«Ellysetta.» Rain called to her in a voice of insufferable calm. But, of course, he would be calm. He'd been gone this whole wretched morning. She ignored him.
"Hmm. I like Maiden's Blush, but the pink might clash with your hair. Sweet Kaidra is lovely, of course, but it may be a little too bland. Gentle Dawn … well, there's something about yellow roses that I've always liked and the orange is a shade that will suit you, I think. Come now, kit, give me your honest opinion.”
"Whichever you choose will be fine, Mama." Ellie could feel her jaw muscles locking in place. Days from now, she was sure they would find her, dead from this wedding torture, her lips still frozen and her teeth bared in a grim parody of a polite smile.
"All right, Ellie," Lauriana replied evenly. "I'll make the decision, since you don't care to. Gentle Dawn it is." Her skirts swished with violent little movements as she stalked away.
Ellie scowled, angry at her mother for getting upset, angry at herself for being the one to upset her. The anger was unsettling. Ellie wasn't a volatile person. She worked hard at keeping her emotions in check. Bad things happened when she didn't. Yet the anger was there. And growing. The pain in her head increased.
«Ellysetta.» Rain's voice sounded again, a bit more insistent this time. She continued to ignore him. She'd wanted a simple wedding. Flowers, perhaps, and a priest. But, no. The mighty Rain Tairen Soul mandated a huge court affair. And then conveniently absented himself from the resulting madness. Ellysetta's anger grew some more.
"Mistress Baristani?" A man's nasal voice sounded to her left.
"What?" Ellie barked and turned towards the voice.
The cobbler held up several pairs of shoes. "You've selected your footwear for your wedding, but you still need to select slippers for your ball gowns and a pair of boots for your day dresses. Something—if I may be so bold—a bit more elegant than your current footwear?”
"There is nothing wrong with my current footwear," she snapped. "It is the perfect footwear for a girl like me.”
"Of course, Mistress Baristani." The cobbler gave a small, condescending smile and bowed. "But I'm referring to the new you.
If one more person made a sneering remark about the "humble coziness" of her family's home or the "new" Ellysetta Baristani, Ellie wasn't going to be responsible for what happened. Her brows drew together in a thunderous scowl. Despite vague memories of disturbing dreams, she'd woken in an exceptionally happy mood this morning, and Rain's courtship gift of Stones had made her laugh with delight, as no doubt he'd meant her to. That lightheartedness was long gone. Now, it was all she could do to stop from screaming.
The Dark Lord take this whole exhausting, frustrating, sanity- scorching idea of a wedding! She cast a blistering glare at the frenzied mob of seamstresses, florists, caterers, printers, decorators, wine merchants, cobblers, and stuffy wedding advisors surrounding her. They had descended upon her parents' house just after breakfast and turned Ellie's peaceful morning into a war zone of raucous pre-wedding activity. Every half bell, a knock would sound on the door and a new throng of visitors would pour in. Couriers bearing packages, friends wanting to extend their congratulations, neighbors just being nosy, merchants, craftsmen.
The mad, unceasing rush of people and the constant barrage of questions—each merchant had at least a hundred questions, all needing a decision now!—had long since taken their toll on her sanity and had wiped every last vestige of good humor from her mood.
Twenty gowns, Lady Marissya had decreed. Twenty! Plus an enormous monstrosity of a wedding gown that required an entire wagonload of fabric and had taken most of the morning to fit. The queen's dressmaker, Maestra Binchi, who had been noticeably more respectful and accommodating this morning, had already departed with her half- dozen seamstresses to begin work on the wedding gown, but another three court modistes and their respective gaggles of assistants were still industriously dedicating themselves to turning Ellie into a human pincushion.
"My lady, please stand still." Kneeling at Ellie's feet, one of the seamstresses blew a strand of limp brown hair out of her eyes and attempted—but failed—to sound patiently polite. The seamstress's lips were pulled taut in a grimace that Ellie concluded was supposed to be a deferential smile.
"I am standing still," Ellie replied through clenched teeth. An awful, squeezing pressure had begun building in her head earlier, as if her skull were caught in a tightening vise. The voices around her formed a merciless, pounding drum, echoing inside her head, beating at the shreds of her control.
«Las, Ellysetta.» Bel's cool voice sounded in her mind.
Peace? Peace, he said? Over the top of the opaque curtain of Spirit the Fey had woven to protect her modesty, Ellie sent Bel a glare so scorching, his leathers nearly caught on fire. The fierce warrior blinked in surprise and wisely retreated.
"Ellie" Oblivious to the brewing tempest, Lauriana approached with a selection of flowers in her hands. "For your bridal wreath, which roses do you prefer? Maiden's Blush, Sweet Kaidra, or Gentle Dawn?" She held up one of each velvety bloom, faint pink, creamy ivory, and pale yellow edged with the barest hint of orange.
"I don't care, Mama." Ellie tried desperately to hold on to her temper. "You choose.”
«Ellysetta.» Rain called to her in a voice of insufferable calm. But, of course, he would be calm. He'd been gone this whole wretched morning. She ignored him.
"Hmm. I like Maiden's Blush, but the pink might clash with your hair. Sweet Kaidra is lovely, of course, but it may be a little too bland. Gentle Dawn … well, there's something about yellow roses that I've always liked and the orange is a shade that will suit you, I think. Come now, kit, give me your honest opinion.”
"Whichever you choose will be fine, Mama." Ellie could feel her jaw muscles locking in place. Days from now, she was sure they would find her, dead from this wedding torture, her lips still frozen and her teeth bared in a grim parody of a polite smile.
"All right, Ellie," Lauriana replied evenly. "I'll make the decision, since you don't care to. Gentle Dawn it is." Her skirts swished with violent little movements as she stalked away.
Ellie scowled, angry at her mother for getting upset, angry at herself for being the one to upset her. The anger was unsettling. Ellie wasn't a volatile person. She worked hard at keeping her emotions in check. Bad things happened when she didn't. Yet the anger was there. And growing. The pain in her head increased.
«Ellysetta.» Rain's voice sounded again, a bit more insistent this time. She continued to ignore him. She'd wanted a simple wedding. Flowers, perhaps, and a priest. But, no. The mighty Rain Tairen Soul mandated a huge court affair. And then conveniently absented himself from the resulting madness. Ellysetta's anger grew some more.
"Mistress Baristani?" A man's nasal voice sounded to her left.
"What?" Ellie barked and turned towards the voice.
The cobbler held up several pairs of shoes. "You've selected your footwear for your wedding, but you still need to select slippers for your ball gowns and a pair of boots for your day dresses. Something—if I may be so bold—a bit more elegant than your current footwear?”
"There is nothing wrong with my current footwear," she snapped. "It is the perfect footwear for a girl like me.”
"Of course, Mistress Baristani." The cobbler gave a small, condescending smile and bowed. "But I'm referring to the new you.
