Sylvie pulled the covers back, got out of bed, and followed Bouvier into her water closet. Sylvie had seen those at the brothel in certain rooms. She hadn't really known what they were for. This morning she was finding out. Inside, there was a stand-alone porcelain sink and a tub with steaming water waiting for her.
"Will you need any help, Sylvie?"
"No, I will be fine." She assured Bouvier as the woman exited the room.
Sylvie quickly disrobed and slipped into the warm water. It was a welcoming change for bathing in the cold creek, she had to admit. She had agreed to this without really knowing him or what she had gotten herself into. She was the daughter of a showgirl. She would never be chosen as his mate had he not requested it.
Bouvier had believed what she had told her, but Sylvie knew it was something more. Sylvie wracked her brain as to where they knew one another. She never laid eyes upon him until last night, and yet, she felt a twinge of familiarity when he had stared into her eyes...
Sylvie could barely breathe once she was fully dressed and prepared for the day. She felt like she would suffocate. Bouvier had made her wear a corset, and it was extremely tight. Her waist looked tiny, even to her own eyes. Her new attire was manufactured from the most expensive materials in the region.
She had never seen such fine silks and fabrics before in all of her life, even at the brothel. Wearing them made her feel self-conscious like she was a fraud. Today, Sylvie wore a Salmon pink floor-length overskirt, with a white satin Bodice decorated with pink and gold butterflies. The bodice had plum sleeves. On her feet, she wore middle brown leather boots that were pointed at the toe and had a little heel.
Sylive eyed herself in the mirror. She had never worn anything so fancy and refined in her life. Her hair was in a Gibson girl bun, a simple topknot surrounded by voluminous roots and rolled ends. Tiny wisps of her hair escaped to gently frame her face giving her a certain feminine, innocent glow. Her life really had changed before her very eyes.
She knew she should have been overwhelmed, but she wasn't. Her new husband seemed like he cared about her well-being. She had never had that before.
"You look perfect. Your husband knows you well." Bouvier complimented Sylvie.
Sylvie found her words strange.
"How could he know this about me?" She said referring to the clothing and the perfect sizes down to her shoes.
"The rich ones have their ways, don't they?" She replied.
Sylvie really didn't know and could only suspect and pretend.
" Sylvie, You look perfect. I promise. The family will love you. " Bouvier reassured her. "Come. I will escort you to meet your new family."
Sylvie didn't protest. She said nothing. She was extremely nervous. She hadn't thought she would be married to anyone, especially a nobleman. She hadn't been expecting to meet anyone's family.
Sylvie hoped they would love and accept her. She had only distant memories of a mother and father who loved her and one another, but the Island took that long ago. She had been condemned to be an orphan girl who ran with wolves. The wolf. Where was he?
She hoped he was alright. That had been her only friend in these troubling times. She had no one now. She prayed that her new family would embrace her. Her father-in-law seemed pleased with her at the wedding.
She watched as Bouvier made three sharp knocks on her door. She heard the clicking sound, letting them know it was being unlocked. Seconds later, Whitley opened the door and spoke directly to Sylvie.
"You are ready. You look lovely today, Lady Canus," Whitley complimented her as he smiled warmly at her and bowed as was their royal custom.
Sylvie was not aware of the custom and instantly felt uncomfortable being called Lady of the Island. Whitley held the door open. Bouvier took the lead. They walked down a few long, dark hallways until they reached the portrait room. Sylvie was in awe at how beautiful and large her new home was.
She felt her nerves growing more and more frazzled with each step she took toward the large wooden doors. The doors to the portrait room themselves were intimidating. There was a large mural carved into the door. It was a picture of a Mother wolf allowing her pups and human children to suckle. Sylvie had seen a similar depiction in the cave she had shared with her furry companion.
Was it a coincidence? Or had her companion's master once been a part of this family? She would be sure to ask. Two burly men wearing armor stood in front of the doors. Whitley nodded at them and on his signal they opened both doors, allowing them entry into the family portrait room.
Sylvie drank in her surroundings. The room was large with its shiny, parquet floors, and red and gold silk wallpaper. Each wall except the farthest one was filled with different portraits. Sylvie was not able to study them as she would have liked. She made a mental note to come back here later.
There were sculptures of wolves as well as human busts, strategically placed in the room as well. It was a feast for Sylvie's eyes, which finally made it to her father-in-law, who she noticed was standing in front of his own portrait. It was a very good rendering.
She noticed in the portrait his face was not covered and a large gray wolf sat beside him. She could tell he had suffered greatly.
A gorgeous brunette, with perfect features, wearing a crimson red, tight-fitting, floor-length gown, stood beside him. She didn't recall seeing her at the wedding, but then again, Sylvie had been so nervous at her own wedding she didn't recall much of it. Neither seemed amused or even happy to see her. Sylvie instantly got the feeling she was not welcome. Even though half of his face was covered with a white porcelain mask, her father in laws scowl and very obvious disdain did not go unnoticed by her.
Sylvie stood in front of the pair waiting for her father-in-law to acknowledge her. That was about the same time she noticed he was slowly assessing her. It was a slow calculating gaze that scanned her thin frame from head to toe. She felt like maybe Whitley and Bouvier had lied to her about her appearance.
"Sylvie, how was your night?" He then asked, breaking the silence.
"I-It was fine, thank you," she answered.
There was another awkward silence when the female spoke, "Hi, my name is Louve."
Sylvie extended her hand in a show of friendship. The woman looked at her hand, barely masking her disgust. Sylvie slowly put her hand down. There was more silence.
Bouvier spoke then, "If that will be all, my Liege. I will retire to my room." She spoke to Adolf. This entire situation was agonizing to watch.
Adolf wasn't going to let her off the hook so easily. He spoke to her then. "Our Sylvie will need you, I am sure. So, please, Miss Bouvier, stay." He offered.
She knew she could not refuse him. Bouvier was annoyed. She did not want to become Sylvie's babysitter, but it would appear that was slowly, but surely becoming the case. Whitley had already left. Bouvier now had no choice but to stay.
She decided to help with the awkward silence between the new family, "This is a lovely room, my Lord. These portraits are divine. You have such a fine family lineage." She complimented him, knowing Adolf would have no choice but to talk.
"Thank you. Six generations of pure royal blood. I am and always have been proud of that." He stated. "So imagine my shock and surprise when my only son and heir to the throne decided to marry a strange island girl."
His family heritage speech had now turned into something else. He was telling Sylvie outright that Randolf wasn't supposed to marry her. She knew it was true, but it didn't make it any less humiliating that he was saying these things openly in front of these people. He wasn't done he kept going. "Louve was chosen to be his bride since their birth. He was to marry her, not you."
His words stung like hot water on Sylvie's skin. Her hopes of having a father figure in her life were now dashed. He was being very clear with her. He did not want her here and he would never accept her.
She tried to reassure him, knowing it would be futile. " I-I'm very grateful to your son." She said, hoping she sounded humble and grateful enough.
He harrumphed at her and spoke again. His tone turned icy. "Marrying into this family will be one of the hardest things you've ever had to do. Just because my son accepts you does not mean that I or the others will. You don't know our ways or our customs. Do you read and write? Would you even be able to learn them?" He stared at her then.