The Maiden and the Drowning Boy

Chapter 7 - The Look You Give

Abby pressed her hands against her bared collarbones, feeling the prickle of heat that crept down her cheeks and flushed across every bit of skin that was revealed by the square cut neckline of the new gown. Wylla Karstark's ruby red pout was pulled into an amused smile while she tugged at the laces of the other girl's bodice. The pale blue taffeta had a satin shine and was, by far, the loveliest thing she'd ever owned. The neckline and cuffs of her fitted sleeves were edged with the finest ivory lace. Her golden red curls hung freely down her back, with delicate, mother of pearl combs keeping her hair from her face and the light, ivory veil that covered her hair in place. She watched Wylla move in the reflection of the mirror, wishing her own hair could look as thick and lovely as the elder girl's raven curls.

"You look lovely, my lady." Wylla's northern accent was a song in itself, her amusement nothing but lighthearted. "You might make him swallow his tongue, since he already can't keep his eyes off you."

"Oh, don't be silly, Aegon's..." Abby bit her lip before Wylla tsked at her like a cat so she could dab some coral paint onto her mouth. Abby remained still and silent until she was done. "Aegon does, well, I mean I do catch him looking. But," her brow furrowed and her hands fluttered and smoothed over the bodice of the dress. She missed her woven belt, and the feel of the tiny mends she'd made in the fabric.

"But what?" Wylla asked with a finely arched eyebrow and promptly reached up to pinch Abby's cheeks until they went a deeper pink. She'd been here only a fortnight, having come south with her brother while he discussed some sort of trade agreements, and was promptly pulled into service by the queen. Better than a Hightower cousin, in Abby's book. With Wylla, she didn't feel spied on like Lady Penrose, nor belittled. In the short time they had known one another, Abby thought she might be making a friend.

'Maybe', came the shy, giddy thought, 'she could be a sister.' She loved Helaena, who had been her sister and companion, with all her heart, but Wylla had quickly filled the empty spot in Abby's chest that she suspected her own sister, Corynna, should have filled.

It was a strange feeling to not have to take care of someone. While she was still struggling to get used to the idea of being waited on, she wouldn't deny that there was something in her that ached to be cared for. Wylla's no nonsense and relatively pleasant manner, and surprising sarcasm, was a delight and a surprise and she found herself hanging on her every word, looking to her for guidance in only these last few days.

"But what, my lady?" Came Wylla's repeated question, and her cool fingers touched her chin, rubbing off a bit of stray lip paint with her thumb. Abby crinkled her nose and huffed.

"But I feel as though this is too much. That I shouldn't be... that it's unseemly to attract attention."

"Och!" Her fingers flicked the tip of Abby's nose. "What southern nonsense are you spouting now? You're betrothed to a prince, are you not?" Abby nodded. "You want him to admire you, and no others, right?"

A heated sensation curled in her chest thinking about Aegon looking at other girls, and resolutely ignoring her. "Well, of course I want him to admire me. I want to please him."

"And he should also please you, that's what my mother always says. A woman takes her own pleasure in a marriage, just as much as the husband, and if you flush any redder, you'll turn into one of those apples, I'm sure."

Abby nodded again, pressing her hands once more to the expanse of collarbone on display. She felt so silly being self-conscious about her dress. It was nowhere near as revealing as some of the dresses the ladies of the court wore. Nowhere near as revealing as what some of the women she'd seen Aegon flirt with wearing. Collarbones and shoulders and the swells of their breasts teased in the candlelight; Aegon flush with wine and preening beneath the attention.