Chapter 5 ~ Bound

                                    

                                          
Beware of the wolves...
                          
Chapter 5: Bound 
~
                          
Shaking hands made it impossible to to pretend I was calm. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, watching Claude pull my hair away from my face in an array of complicated braids woven with ribbons, and of course, Mary's pearls. Blue eyes stared dully back at me and I forced myself to look away. 
                          
Mary herself stood beside me, guiding Claude in how my hair should look. Rouge had been used on my cheeks, giving my skin a flushed look. I'd never cared much for makeup, and I cared even less for it now, it felt heavy in my skin. Mary stepped away to look at my dress that lay on the bed and I took a moment to close my eyes and try to calm myself down. 
                          
Claude hummed happily as she finished tying back the last few locks of black hair. It wasn't a tune I recognised but it was one that I found myself quite drawn to. 
                          
"What is it you hum, Claude?" I asked, needing the distraction of conversation. 
                          
"Greensleeves, my lady" she replied softly, pushing another pin harshly into my hair, "A tune from England. It is said that King Henry wrote it himself for the Lady Anne Boleyn." 
                          
How romantic, I thought. Until I remembered that the Lady Anne had been beheaded by the very one who had thought himself so in love that he had to compose music for her. It wasn't something I wanted to think about on my own wedding day. 
                          
"All done." Claude announced, stepping back to admire her work. 
                          
Mary smiled from the bed, "You look beautiful. We should get you into your dress now before we make our way down to the hall." 
                          
I nodded, slowly pushing myself up from the chair. My marriage wasn't going to be in a church, which I found rather odd, but for whatever reason it had been decided, I was glad. I'd never felt comfortable in a church, I felt like I was cheating on my Gods. My mother had been married to my father in a church, but for her he had also done a handfasting in private to acknowledge her own beliefs. I wouldn't have the chance to honour my Gods without fear of Torian's reaction to such a petition. 
                          
The dress was slipped onto me and Claude tied the laces tight so that the bodice was almost like a second skin. My breasts were pushed up higher than I was used to, and they rose and fell with each breath I took. I felt exposed and embarrassed but nobody else seemed to think the low cut was inappropriate. 
                          
Nerves were building again. Butterflies flew violently around my stomach, causing me to feel as if I would be sick. I was suddenly aware of how tight the dress really was, it crushed my ribs and made it even more difficult to breathe. The room swayed and I reached out to hold the bed post to stop myself from falling. 
                          
"You're nervous." Mary observed, squeezing the hand that lay limp by my side, "I understand, but there is no need to be. The ceremony will be over before you know it and then you can eat, drink and dance with your new husband. You will enjoy yourself." 
                          
Nodding numbly, I took no relief in her words. Even after the ceremony, there was still the act of consummation to worry about. I tightened my hand around Mary's. Margaret was with her husband, probably already waiting in the hall, but I wished my dear friend was here with me instead. While Mary had been of great help to me, she didn't know me like Margaret did. I couldn't voice my fears so I held them bottled up inside. 
                          
Now all dressed up, I was finally ready to meet my groom at the alter. 
                          
"You are the perfect bride." Claude complimented, smiling brightly, "You will hold all the eyes of court." 
                          
I blushed, dropping my gaze to the floor. The eyes of court would be on me whether I looked beautiful or not; the daughter of a known witch marrying one of the richest heirs in Scotland. It was a scandal that nobody seemed to understand.