The Blood of Caged Birds: Book One in the Mortalsong Trilogy by J. M. Stredwick

Author:J. M. Stredwick [Stredwick, J. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-05-10T16:00:00+00:00

Giselle

My maid begins to work the comb through my dark hair, pinning it here and there so that it is fashioned neatly in the popular style. A chignon at the base of the neck with an abundance of curls framing my face.

The doors to my chambers are thrust open, and Benjamin materializes there, hesitant to come any further.

“Benjamin!” I jump to my feet, mortified at my inadequate covering, dressed only in my shift. I flurry into the cloaking of my evening robe, crossing my arms over my chest. If my maid weren’t here, I would let him look.

“Forgive me.” He casts a nod towards my outraged maid then smiles at me in the way he does with the crook of a brow and a half-caliber smile that conveys something of the sly variety. His skin is almost russet in the gloomily lit room. I want to reach out and touch the dark stubble on his jaw and trail my fingers along his lips.

“What is it?” I ask him curiously, beckoning him to sit while my maid. I go behind my lacquered folding screen, one that exhibits a vista of oriental forestry.

Tossing my robe aside, I allow the middle-aged woman to administer the full assemblage of style that mother would expect. Over the shift goes a corset, a silk over-skirt that blazes of vermilion a matching bodice and then an opulent stomacher. The flowing sleeves bunch at my elbows, and though it is a natural expression of fashion, the dropped shoulder and consequently lowered neckline has me self-consciously checking my reflection in the mirror.

“I want to discuss what I am going to say to your mother,” he says.

“We’ve already spoken of this.” I laugh. His face is severe, and I am forced to settle on his determination, raising my hands in pretend questioning. “What will you say to her?”

“I shall pull her aside after this evening’s meal before we retire to the drawing room,” he begins rather mechanically, the stress building in his tone. “Ask her for a moment of her time…”

Coming around from the screen, I watch as he sweeps a hand over his face and through his dark hair, snagging the tress and then pressing a palm into his neck.

“You look a bit hassled.”

When he looks up at me, his eyes drink me in. I feel beautiful. I know that one could have knowledge of their beauty, but it feels sumptuous to be admired by him and him alone. If any other man looked upon me with inspecting eyes, I would have turned away, but under his gaze, I feel myself bloom. I want to tell him to search me, to study every part of me for there is nothing I will hold back.

“Will that be all Mademoiselle?” My maid’s voice is crass.

“Y-yes, that will be all. Thank you.”

“You are always so beautiful, how is that?” he says.

“Oh please,” I whisper jauntily, finalizing my look with pearl jewelry. “Why have you really come? You told me you knew exactly what it was that you would say to my mother.

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