Over the next few weeks, Luvenia grew accustomed to wearing her late mother's gowns. She wore Ligeia's black crepe to the funeral of Lord Caradon; she wore Ligeia's deep blue taffeta to be presented to the nobility of Middewold; she wore Ligeia's violet organza to the engagement ceremony.
Her maids got better and better at pinning the material to fit her, since she refused to have the dresses tailored.
"I won't be seventeen forever," she observed to them once, which to her was merely factual and not particularly funny.
Not only did the maids find the statement humorous, but they started slipping it into their conversations as a non sequitur:
"The weather's lovely today, but I won't be seventeen forever."
"Is there any more of that dark green ribbon? I won't be seventeen forever!"
"Since I won't be seventeen forever, you should have another slice of strawberry tart."
Luvenia began to wonder if she was the only one who didn't get the joke.
***
"I don't get it, either," Hanna assured Luvenia. She was seated in the doorway, cross-legged and leaning against the jamb. It didn't look at all comfortable.
"You could bring over another chair, you know."
"No, thank you. I don't want to break any more furniture."
Luvenia felt slightly guilty as she lounged in the armchair that had become her favorite. Hanna had moved it closer to the connecting doorway to make their room-to-room conversations more convenient.
"Anyway, don't worry about those silly maids, your highness. They'll stop saying it if you ask them."
"It's harmless, and they enjoy it. There's no reason to deny them their fun."
"You're very thoughtful, princess."
Luvenia shook her head. "It pleases me to see them happy. We all need to find joy where we can."
Hanna got that look she often wore when Luvenia downplayed her own qualities. The look, as best Luvenia could interpret it, was Hanna wanting to contradict her but not knowing what to say.
"You'll be there for the wedding, won't you?"
"Of course, your highness. Why wouldn't I be?"
"No reason. I just wondered."
Hanna looked at her steadily. "Would you prefer it if I didn't come?"
"Don't be like that." Luvenia rested her head on her arm and regarded Hanna sideways. "Gorogon says my father will be attending."
"And you think he'll take me back with him?"
"I don't know. I hope not."
It warmed her heart to see Hanna's lopsided smile. "Then I won't go back with him."
"Not even if he orders you to?"
"I don't think he'd do that. I'm a symbol of his power. He might like to have me stay here as a reminder."
"Maybe."
"It's not like I'm actually very useful to him. He knows I won't hurt anyone."
This made Luvenia sit up and take notice, quite literally. "But—didn't he send you to the border during the conflict with Ferifa?"
Hanna raised her eyebrows. "I didn't realize you knew about me back then."
"That was only a couple years ago. Everyone was talking about the king's new mercenary who had the strength of ten men."
"Fair enough." She had a new pair of leather gloves in mahogany red. They made her hands stand out starkly, as though they belonged to a different person altogether. "When he asked me to work for him, I told him I wouldn't hurt anyone or take any action that would directly result in harm to someone. He said all I needed to do was demonstrate my strength in sight of Alatir's enemies, and his knights would take care of the rest."
"So you've never killed anyone."
Hanna looked faintly queasy. "Certainly not, princess."
"Good. I'm glad."
"Glad to have a useless bodyguard?"
"Who says you're useless? Everyone knows your name, nobody wants to go against you, and you haven't even spilled a drop of blood! Nobody else in the world could compare to you."
The lamps in the connected rooms cast their respective lights crosswise over Hanna's face, so it was hard to be certain, but Luvenia suspected she might be blushing.
"So, uh... How's the wedding dress coming?"
Luvenia slumped inelegantly. "Ugh, don't remind me. You'd think the tailors would have all the information they needed after six fittings, but they insisted on yet another one tomorrow. It's enough to make me want to get married in my nightgown."
"It's a nice nightgown," offered Hanna mischievously.
"I'm ready for all this to be over. I just want to be married already. Forget the ceremony, forget the dress, forget the guests..."
"Most girls look forward to their wedding."
"I wouldn't know about 'most girls'." She leaned forward. "What about you? Did you ever look forward to getting married?"
Hanna said nothing for long enough that Luvenia started to worry.
"Not exactly."
"Forget I asked. It's not important."
"There was someone I developed feelings for, but it wasn't until after I became 'Iron Hans'."
Luvenia knew she shouldn't pry, that it would only make things more awkward, but curiosity burned in her chest to the point of pain.
"Tell me about that person."
"They didn't know I existed—at least, I didn't think they knew." Her voice was warm, soft, distant. "But I saw them sometimes, and heard about them from others. They're an extraordinary person who deserves to be cherished."
A strange sort of envy pinched at Luvenia.
"What happened?"
Hanna looked away. "It just wasn't meant to be." Her gloved hands clenched and unclenched like a pair of beating hearts. "It's for the best, anyway. It would be too dangerous for them if I... expressed my feelings."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."
"It's all right, princess. I am what I am. I got exactly what I wished for."
Luvenia could hardly bear the sadness in Hanna's voice.
"Maybe you'll meet your match someday, and... and everything will work out."
It sounded so stupid that she cringed to have said it. Hanna just smiled.
"If you say so, princess."
***
The wedding dress ultimately took nine fittings. Luvenia was compliant and considerate to the tailors, but secretly she wondered if it might not have been easier to have one of her mother's nicer dresses remade for the occasion.
Her father had never married. His children were born from concubines of high status, and he legitimized them by decree rather than by wedlock. Lady Ligeia had never worn a wedding dress; nothing in the two chests that represented her life as a concubine was remotely sufficient for her daughter's royal wedding.
She couldn't even wear her mother's jewelry. Gorogon had gifted her a set of emeralds that were meant to match the crown she would soon wear. The teardrop jewels looked just like summer leaves in sunlight. They were gorgeous, but they held no meaning for her except as tokens of her fiancé's generosity.
To satisfy what seemed to her a silly desire, she determined to give her maids a few of her mother's necklaces to wear. Two days before the wedding, she asked them to show her their best frocks so she could select a good match for each of them.
"Pink is so fetching on you, Millie." She draped a collar of cherry-blossom pearls around the maid's neck. "This looks like it was made for you."
Millie's eyes welled up. "Oh, miss..."
"A pendant for you, Mollie." She handed her one with a fiery citrine set in silver. "Your dress is striking enough on its own, but this will accent it perfectly."
Mollie held up the necklace reverently, admiring the deep orange hues against her yellow frock.
Before Luvenia could say anything more, Mellie grabbed her arm. Panic was writ large in the maid's small face.
"Princess, you mustn't lend me anything fine or expensive. I'd be sure to lose it somehow, and I couldn't do that to you—and your mother's lovely things that she left you."
Luvenia brushed a stray curl behind Mellie's ear. In moments like these, she desperately missed Myra. She hoped her father would honor her request and send Myra to her, and that the four maids would get along happily. She cherished their joy as a balm for her own sorrows.
"All right, Mellie. I'll find you something simple."
Her mother's jewelry tended to be simple anyway. Ligeia was known to be a great beauty, and she had chosen for herself ornaments that added a touch of elegance without overshadowing her.
The piece Luvenia settled upon was a chain that alternated links of bare silver and links painted with black enamel. Threaded through each junction of two links was a tiny silver loop set with a grayish-purple stone.
"My mother didn't wear this one much. I don't think it suited her complexion." She slipped it over Mellie's head. "But it's just right on you. Look—the iolite picks up the violet of your dress and comes to life."
Mellie allowed Luvenia to stand her in front of the dressing-table mirror. Her cheeks were bright pink as she stared at her reflection.
"Your highness," she breathed, "how did you make me look so pretty?"
"You were already pretty, Mellie. The best kind of jewelry doesn't make you beautiful; it helps you see your own beauty."
Luvenia suddenly found herself in possession of three crying maids.
"Girls, please–"
Luvenia then found herself being hugged by three crying maids.
She had to acknowledge that she was outnumbered. Sighing fondly, she yielded to the force of their affection and let them bury her in gratitude.
***