5.5

The day of the wedding broke with the Countess’ ladies in waiting and her mother rising with Jewel.

‘Gem’ had to be excluded as she was in the care of Smithson and no men were permitted to see Jewel until during her procession in the ceremony.

Even if for the last twelve days she might have been in naught but her scales among the guests!

But now Jewel was a properly clothed maiden on her wedding day. Paul for his trouble was also being sequestered by his own staff to prepare him for their oaths at noon, and then they will be set away again until the evening vows pledged by husband and wife before the stars and gods.

Her sheer scale and shape required adjustments and compromises to be made for a wedding gown.

But shawls of darkly dyed linens thin and fine enough to see through were draped over her face and snout. Other shawls and drapes followed, just as delicately stitched together with bright and vibrant colors of Viznove, Rochford and Bathory in fantastic groves and spirals of flowers and leaves. A veritable transparent tapestry wreathed her flanks and even were tied so they could drape in expanses over her wings.

Joining the embroidered flowers in her family and bathory’s colors were actual summer blooms. Carefully dried and preserved to retain their vibrancy and enriched with perfume via herbs and scented oils.

The hands of her mother and the Countess’ ladies worked over Jewel delicately.

She had spent a solid evening shining her scales to their brightest luster with Smithson’s assistance last night. Making her hide an almost golden metallic shimmer between the draperies and color.

Rich dark green, vibrant red, pale bleached white in just a few streaming accents. A bit of black. It was finery after a fashion, although Jewel thought that it draped over her a bit oddly.

But as long as she held a fine and dignified poise however it all fell well.

Her mane was braided with more dried flowers and even chains of silver. The entire ensemble took hours to assemble and they had to break their fast in private in the chambers that had been cleared for the whole endeavor.

During this late morning meal Jewel turned to her mother and smiled.

“I think perhaps I might fancy him. Paul that is.”

Mother raised a brow at that.

“Oh? What makes you so sure?”

Jewel shrugged a bit, but only with greatest care, some of the fastenings were not as secure as they could be and if she moved too violently the entire edifice might come undone.

“Well I greatly enjoyed speaking with him, we have much in common. It is very nice to have someone who understands what we share.”

Mother hmmed around the small portion of bread she was taking as their breakfast.

Bobbing Gwenn on her hip to keep the girl settled.

The last hour had been stressful for her sister and likely meant she would be set to sleep during the exchange of oaths at midday.

“What is it that you share with the son of the Countess Bathory?”

Jewel huffed a bit, blowing the linen over her snout out to billow in her breath.

This too she found had to be done very gently. Her own lungs could breath hard enough to tear the veil off of her head.

“We’ve both trained for war and martial matters, we both have felt the responsibility and obligation to defend our home and the honor of our families. We both despise Elizabeth, and it is comfortable to speak to one another and share on this. I think we can be happy together. He also does not treat me like a beast. Not even when he first laid eyes on me.”

For some reason mother smiled in a sad way.

Jewel had seen that look before and it was when she had done something endearing but ultimately foolish.

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“Ah, no Jewel that is not fancying the young man. It’s a camaraderie and perhaps the seeds of a good friendship. But that is not the same as fancying him. It is not the same kind of love as a woman might have for a man.”

Jewel frowned at that in confusion. She was fond of her husband, she looked forward to time with him. Surely that was precisely what everyone had meant when they said they fancied their spouse?

If she had not been betrothed Jewel could certainly see being quite obliged to her parents offering her in marriage to Paul.

“Is it not? But you and Father are much like that. You are fond and speak well of each other. You enjoy each other's company. Miss each other when you are away.”

Mother laughed and shook her head.

“Dear daughter, what is your favorite part of your husband to be?”

Jewel considered a moment then answered clearly.

“His good sense. He sees me as a lady to be spoken to. And as a fellow child of a noble house.”

Mother hummed and nodded.

“An important thing for certain, but what of his stature? His eyes? His calves? You there! What is the finest feature of the young Paul Nádasdy?”

The lady who had long finished her own small bread stuttered in surprise being called on before blurting out.

“His-uh his calves of course Lady Mother! Er-”

Jewel’s mother snorted at that and bit off the young woman’s frantic words with a tone like a whiplash.

“I am not that fiendish hag of a woman you call your lady. Tell us truly and honestly. What of the young Nádasdy is fine on the eyes?”

The poor woman seemed frozen in silent horror and Mother finally relented by turning her gaze to another of the ladies that had scarcely spoken for the hours they fussed and worked over Jewel.

“You, are you so cowed by that beastly woman to lose your tongue? Did she cut it out? We are alone here, no listening ears will tell on you, is that not right daughter?”

Jewel could only nod and offer a quiet affirmation.

“No ears but my own could hear us from where they stand outside.”

Mother nodded, then her voice was gentler than before.

“My daughter is going to be wed today and she does not understand what it means to fancy a man. Please tell me what you find fine about her betrothed... Please.”

The first woman finally spoke up in a whisper, soft and fearful as if she was admitting something to be guilty of.

“I like his cheeks, they're just so round and cute. He’s the best of both a man and a boy.”

Mother nodded then turned to another.

“I think his lips and the lines of his shoulders are just so good. He’s lithe if you can catch him wearing tight shirts or even none at all.”

The lady said the last with a nervous giggle and a stinking puff of fear.

A third spoke up bolder than the rest, not so quiet or ashamed.

“I also fancy his cheeks, but not the ones on his face. Mmmm pert those”

Another two nodded at that.

And Jewel could only stare at them, listening to them mention features that Jewel could maybe imagine were signs of fit or athletic action but didn't really seem particularly noteworthy.

Some of the ways they described Paul sounded more like they were describing a pig strung up for market to be butchered than a man.

A smell started to build up from some of them Jewel was familiar with but normally tried to ignore.

Until finally mother raised her hand.

“I think that’s enough ladies thank you, so daughter, can you tell me truly is there anything you fancy about the man? Is there something you can honestly tell me you fancy about any man? Or woman for that matter?”

Jewel tried, she poured through her memory, she began to part her lips when she thought she finally had found it.

“Not admire for the mark it gives of their prowess, not appreciate as it is noble. Is there anything of a man or woman that you have seen or smelled or heard that made you want? That you truly desired to touch and know as you might hunger for food or drink? Is there any of that daughter?”

And in a sudden stillness Jewel found that she could not truthfully answer that there was.

The knowing sad look from her mother settled from the earnestness it had taken.

Jewel spoke.

Her words were quiet and soft. And as she spoke them she saw the sad look in the eyes of the ladies with her deepening.

A smell of pity that could not be for anyone but her.

“No, Mother.”