Undesirable

Chapter 14

According to Higher Tier tradition - or more likely the harsh will of Signora Russo - new brides are required to enter a bridal house located on their future husband's estate. They must not leave, under any circumstances, until the morning of their wedding. They aren't allowed visitors; other than their bridesmaid, the housekeeper, or someone who serves a purpose involving the pending wedding. Signora Russo insists that it's part of the tradition, but it sounds more like a hostage situation to me. My wedding isn't for another three days and I'm already going insane.

However, who am I to argue? I'm lucky to be here at all - as Signora Russo likes to regularly remind me - so I have to keep my mouth shut and show my appreciation. Though, I would highly appreciate a chance to breathe some fresh air. Every time someone opens the front door I run to stand next to it, just to inhale a small fraction of air from outside. The bridal house is turning into a heated box, and I fear that if I remain in here much longer I'm going to dehydrate or turn into a prune.

There is no point in lying. The first two days here were a drag. They were full of dull lessons to prepare me for my future and all of them numbed my brain. Etiquette, dancing, and history are just to name a few and each one was more boring than the other. I knew things were going to be different here than from my home, but the Higher Tier is unfamiliar territory. Everything is intimidatingly new, and a lot of it doesn't even make sense to me yet. Like, how will knowing the names of every king and queen who came before Queen Octavia help me in any situation? I guess it will give me something to talk about when I meet new people, but I want them to like me, not to bore them to death. Surely there are more interesting things to talk about other than royalty?

Christina, the girl who was stood next to Signora Russo when I arrived, is stuck teaching me all these things, fighting to find interest in the topics herself. Even she looks like she couldn't care less. She was introduced to me as my bridesmaid and her role is to prepare me for my wedding day, just like Cesare explained to me at our meeting. Most of the girls she deals with already have some sort of idea of what they are about to go through, but with me, she has to start from scratch. Unfortunately, for both of us, it means she has to work twice as hard and twice as long. I keep having the urge to apologise to her for being the one to get stuck with me, but at least I had someone else trapped in this house and I don't have to go through it all by myself.

Today is slightly different though - a fact that I am thankful for - as it's the first time I'm going to see my wedding dress. I have no idea what to expect, or if I am even going to like it. I fear it's going to make me resemble a walking carpet like the rest of the dresses I've been subjected to wear. I think I'm well in my right to refuse to appear as such. After all, I'm going to be a Lady of the Higher Tier, not some furniture thrown into a random room to be forgotten about. Well, not after I get married, at least.

Signora Russo sits outside in the lounge, waiting impatiently on the sofa, as Christina helps me into my dress in the bedroom. The chemise floats over my body, decorated with delicate golden embroidery and pulled through the sleeves on the dress of a similar design.

I still hate the high waists and floor-length skirts, and whilst it's made from a thinner material than the ones I have worn before, it still weighs as heavy. Reluctantly, my feet are forced into a pair of golden heels, and a heavy diamond necklace fastened around my neck. I look as if I'm dressed in some sort of costume for a performance in a show, getting ready to be presented to a large crowd.

I guess, in a sense, that's what this dress is.

This is what I'm going to wear when the Higher Tier nobles see me for the first time, and I intend for it to satisfy them that I'm good enough to be amongst their ranks. It would probably convince me, but I'm not used to such extravagancies, so it's unlikely that I'm the best judge.