Sorrows of Adoration by Kimberly Chapman Page A

you
dislike I shall return to the tailor immediately.”
    I nodded.
    She picked up the top
dress from the pile and held it against herself. It was a dusty
pink, with full sleeves that were pleated at the top to give the
gown a soft look. The neckline was modestly high, and the dress
flared at the bottom.
    “It’s beautiful,” I
said.
    “It’s not bad but
rather dowdy,” she said, approaching the bed with it. “And the
colour, oh dear, no, not with your hair. I apologize, my Lady. I
had not taken that into account. I assumed your hair was dark, but
I should not have, for I’ve seen red-haired Aleshans before. His
Highness failed to mention it. Men never think about how colours
clash.” She went back to the pile, dropping the first gown on the
dresser. She flipped through the other dresses, automatically
disqualifying several of similar colours. From the bottom she
pulled a deep blue gown, simple in design with short sleeves and a
high collar. She brought it to my bedside, and I reached out to
touch the lovely fabric. It was soft and rich, unlike any material
I had ever handled.
    “This colour suits you
very well, if I may say so, my Lady. The pattern is simplistic, I
know, but …” Leiset trailed off, noticing my reaction. The
full impact of what was occurring had hit me with the touch of that
luxurious fabric. These elegant gowns, they were the simple
starters that this woman hoped I would suffer whilst my own dresses
were made. My own dresses. I had never owned more than two at any
time in my life, and here was presented to me a choice of no less
than ten. A month before I would have considered this dress she
held for me to be an unrealistic dream—perhaps an unaffordable
treasure seen in a merchant’s caravan. Now this woman, who called
herself my maidservant, was presenting me clothing greater than I
ever would have prayed for. I was overwhelmed and struck by quiet
tears of disbelief and gratitude.
    “My Lady, have I
offended you?” Leiset asked.
    I looked at her with
empathy, wanting to explain that she had done nothing wrong, but I
was at a loss for words and could not make my hand let go of the
soft fabric.
    “Forgive me. I should
have realized that you were not feeling well enough for this
tonight. Shall I take them away, Lady Aenna?”
    “No,” I said. “It’s so
beautiful. I’ve never had anything so beautiful. By rights, you
shouldn’t call me ‘Lady’. Living in the palace, you are of higher
station than I.”
    Leiset looked at me
strangely and said, “But you are to marry Prince Kurit, are you
not?”
    “Yes, but despite his
kind words, I’m still a peasant girl. Less than a month ago I was a
barmaid. Did you know that?”
    “It was the rumour I
had heard, my Lady, yes. But that is of no importance. You’re the
betrothed of the Prince. It is not my place to judge who you may
have been before today, my Lady.”
    “I’m the same person I
was then. I would not have been deemed qualified then to be your
maidservant, let alone have one myself. To be quite blunt, I am
rather uncomfortable with the title. I know nothing of being a
Lady.” I let go of the dress finally, moving my hand to my
forehead, where an uncomfortable ache had begun. I sighed and said,
“He’s mad to think I shall ever fit into this world.”
    Leiset set the
beautiful blue dress down gently on the back of the chair and then
brought me a handkerchief with which to dry my cheeks. I thanked
her and pressed it to my face.
    “Are you unwell? Shall
I fetch the physician?” she asked quietly.
    “No,” I said, dropping
my hand and the handkerchief to my lap. I rolled my eyes at the
thought of another lecture and said, “I’d rather see him as little
as necessary.”
    Leiset tried to hide a
smile. “You’ve been subjected to one of his speeches, I
assume.”
    “One? Several,” I
muttered.
    Leiset covered her
mouth with her hand, trying not to laugh, and the sight made me
laugh myself, which in turn I tried to hide