Page 42 of The Cornish Princess
The riches could easily be explained away, for any queen would wish her daughter to reflect well upon her house, but not these Prydein offerings. They were far more personal, and Gwendolyn would have supposed they would embarrass her mother more than they pleased her. But nay…
Gwendolyn swallowed with difficulty.
Everything she’d ever come to believe about her mother now seemed…wrong.
Moreover, she couldn’t help but remember the gleam in the Queen’s eyes as she’d bade Gwendolyn to hie away to see her surprise.
Joy? Pride? Love?
And yet Gwendolyn was bemused, because after all she had endured by her mother’s hand—all the censure, all the frustrations and doubts, all the neglect and disregard, all the times she’d longed for merely an afternoon with her mother—was this now Gwendolyn’s reward only for pleasing a prince?
Was this all it took to appease her mother?
Or could it be she had misjudged Queen Eseld?
Alas, she had only a month to find out. After Gwendolyn was gone, all time for casual visitation would be done, and when she returned here again, to this house she’d been raised in, she would return as the heir, with a husband by her side, and far more on her mind than simply getting to know an errant mother.
At the moment, Gwendolyn’s room looked like a king’s vault—not that she’d ever actually seen the King’s vault. It was kept too well-guarded by men whose oath it was to die for its defense, and who were no more allowed to enter than they could allow anyone else to see what lay within. So far as Gwendolyn knew, not even her mother knew what lay guarded so jealously, and the only man who’d ever defied the King’s law was a guard who’d lost his eyes, and his tongue as well. Even her father rarely visited his vault, and the only reason she knew anything of its contents was because she was recently privy to a Konsel meeting, wherein the aldermen had lamented the dwindling of gold in their vaults. Gwendolyn herself would only ever be allowed to enter after she ascended to the throne.
Behind her, Ely laughed exuberantly, and still curious to see what more she could find, Gwendolyn rifled through the trunk, lifting a bit of leather, and discovered…
A silver hairpin with the knob in the shape of a fish. It, too, had eyes made of sapphires.
A lunate-shaped pendant, without gems, though it had smallpisciumetched into the metal.
Last, there was a large but intricate brooch that looked like a wide-mouthed fish with an arrow through its gob.
Interestingly, unlike many of the fineries she’d been given today, none of these gifts in the coffer were new. In fact, like the chest in which they were delivered, they appeared rather ancient, judging by the patina on the metals.
“Your grandmother gifted those to me,” said her mother, appearing at her threshold. “And her mother to her, on her bride’s day.”
Gwendolyn turned with hot tears brimming in her eyes and longed so desperately to rush into her mother’s arms. But despite that, Queen Eseld’s eyes appeared moist, her arms remained crossed, and Gwendolyn knew embraces would not be welcomed. And yet this was the one thing she had longed for more than anything else in the world—a simple, heartfelt hug from the woman who had given her life.
Alas.
“I do not know how many generations have worn those jewels, but I know they have been in my family’s keeping for more than five score years.”
“So long!” squealed Ely.
Her mother nodded. “Indeed.”
“Thank you,” said Gwendolyn, and she choked back another surge of emotion. “Thank you… Mother.”
A genuine smile unfurled over Queen Eseld’s beauteous face, and she cast her arms down at her sides as she swept into the room, like a maelstrom, passing by Gwendolyn where she knelt and marching straight toward the bed, stirring even the spirits in the room.
The scent of lavender swirled around Gwendolyn, then eddied away. “Come, Daughter,” she demanded. “Let us dress you now—no, no, no, not with that,” she said, pointing to the lunate pendant that had found its way into Gwendolyn’s hand. “I’ll not have it said we dressed you so plainly tonight. You are promised to a prince, and you shall face him as befits his queen. However, you may bring that hairpin instead. We will use it to secure a crown of braids.”
Gods only knew, there was nothing about anything Gwendolyn had been gifted today that was even remotely plain, but Gwendolyn didn’t argue. Swept up in her mother’s enthusiasm, she put aside her silly regrets, and rose to join Queen Eseld by the bedside.
Thereafter, as Ely oohed andaahedover the shining baubles and all the luscious fabrics, her mother chose the prettiest gown of all—a pearlescent creation that was iridescent in its beauty. The sleeveless overcoat was fashioned of some never-before-seen material that reminded Gwendolyn of the underside of an oyster shell. Apparently, this should be worn over an equally lustrous shell-colored undergown, with wide, diaphanous sleeves—so delicate that it billowed about even without a breeze, only with the hustle and bustle of the occupants in her bower.
If only by sheer will, and by the beauty of the treasures she would wear and the heartfelt efforts of her mother, Demelza and Ely, Gwendolyn would surely arrive at her Promise Ceremony in a fashion to turn heads and hearts.
All together, they gushed over Gwendolyn—Ely scrubbing at her body and face until it stung, then choosing Imperial ribbons for her braids; Demelza brushing her hair until it shone and then plaiting it tightly as Ely handed her the ribbons.
Meanwhile, her mother helped to dress her, moving her hands this way and that, as though she were a poppet, and finally, taking care not to spill any of the substance on Gwendolyn’s new dress, she lined Gwendolyn’s eyes with a paint made from ground galena.
When all was done, Queen Eseld brushed more paint on her, this one a shimmering green, like the color of a warm, but shallow sea. This was made from malachite. And placing it over Gwendolyn’s eyelids, she sprinkled it across her lashes, and then, for good measure, a little dusting on her upper cheeks and lips, so that Gwendolyn feared her skin had turned green, like that of a selkie’s.
