The Painter's Apprentice

Chapter 27

I return to our bed-chamber, but Destan isn't there. I spend the afternoon waiting for him to return and contemplating the morning's events. I barely have time to sort through my thoughts on my reunion with Morel before dusk falls and a faint knock sounds at the door.

Heart racing, I rush to the door and yank it open. When I see a maid standing on the other side, my stomach sinks. Where is Destan? I can't help but think he's avoiding me.

"Ma'am," the young human woman says with a curtsy. She holds a large box in her hands. "A gift from Edmund Morel. He sent me to help you get ready for tonight's ball."

My mouth falls open as I commit myself to decline. I don't feel like dancing. I don't feel like putting on a fancy gown. I don't feel like going to a ball in a strange, magical realm on my own. But something in me begs to comply. Curiosity perhaps. A part of me wants to know what Morel found here that was worth abandoning me for.

"Come in. Thank you." I step aside and the girl crosses to place the large box on the bed. She unties its ribbons and lifts the cover to reveal a bodice of sheer, nude silk, embroidered with silver sequins, gold glass beads, pearls, and faceted crystals. The embroidery ebbs and flows to follow the contours of the female shape with gaps that leave just enough to the imagination.

"Morel wants me to wear this?" I ask, almost stunned at the gown's beauty and boldness.

"I... suppose." the maid lifts the dress from the box and I am equally stunned by the skirt. The embroidery on the bodice melds into a skirt of white ostrich feathers that gradually shift to a pale pink at the bottom of the dress. "There's nothing else in here."

"It will do fine."

We retreat to the bathing chamber where the maid assists me with my hair. She takes the loose curls in deft fingers and braids a plaited crown atop my head, then twists and pins the rest of my hair into a loose shape at the nape of my neck. While she works, the bed-chamber door opens with a groan and a click of the latch. Footsteps shuffle through the adjoining room as someone moves around.

"Destan?" I call out, but he doesn't respond.

Fabric shushes against skin as someone removes their clothes.

My maid continues her work and I hold my breath as I strain to hear what Destan is doing in the other room. After minutes of pained silence, a pair of boots clomp across the floor and stop at the door to the bathing chamber.

My heart pounds in my ears and my lungs scream for breath as I wait for him to knock. He must change his mind because the footsteps retreat from the door and get quieter. The bed-chamber door snicks closed and he is gone.

"All finished, Ma'am," the maid says with a proud grin.

I examine her work in the mirror and I gasp. She has left curls loose to frame my face and the whole look is something wild and undone. It's better than anything I could have managed, or even imagined, for myself. "Amazing..." I reach up to twist a curl away from my eye.

"Shall I help you get dressed?"

"If you don't mind."

We return to the bed-chamber where Destan has left the clothes he was wearing this morning tossed over a chair. My gown is still spread out across the bed where we left it. The maid takes the gown and unbuttons the back while I gingerly remove the Grecian dress, careful not to mess up her wonderful handiwork on my hair.

I step up to the dress and hold out my arms to step inside, but the girl eyes my stays and underpetticoat. "Is something wrong?" I ask.

"Well..." She blushes and looks to the floor. "This gown is made to be worn against the bare skin. It has a flesh-colored lining, but it might look... odd with something underneath."