“Please, call me Ella,” she said, smiling with pleasure at my praise of her son.
“Ella, your majesty?”
“Yes, it was my nickname once. No one uses it anymore.” She sighed. “I didn’t have a very happy youth but I do find myself missing my old name. You’ve proved yourself a true friend to this family – it was a happy day for us when you got lost in that storm.”
She paused and I sat in silence, honoured and unsure how to respond to her reminiscence.
“Only when we’re alone or with the family, though,” she added.
“Of course, your majesty. I mean… Ella,” I amended uncomfortably. I could understand the need for a public show of respect more than I could understand my sudden inclusion in her inner circle.
I felt unworthy of being elevated so drastically but I couldn’t help my response to the deep sadness I sensed behind her words. I tentatively put my arms around her. She responded with a smile and a hug but stepped back quickly as the girls came pouring back out of their room. The intimacy of the moment was broken and a small, overwhelmed part of me could only feel glad.
Chapter 11
I soon found that my adventure in the woods had changed more attitudes than just the queen’s. I no longer had to rely on Mathilde to smooth things over with the servants. Even Gretchen seemed to have, grudgingly, accepted my new intimacy with the royal family. She couldn’t quite bring herself to address me as an equal, though, and had settled for ignoring me entirely. Naturally, I was completely happy with this arrangement.
Any surprise I felt at my sudden elevation in the castle hierarchy dissipated within a day. If the stories flying around were to be believed, I had singlehandedly and purposefully uncovered a plot on the life of the prince and had then, with great cunning and skill, risked my own life to save his. I could see little resemblance between the actual events in the forest and the Alyssa in these tales. But any protestations I made were dismissed as modesty. I began to think rather darkly of all my favourite characters and to wonder if there was any truth in their tales.
It was with this thought in mind that I was sitting in the library and glaring at the book of fairy tales I still kept there for light reading. I couldn’t seem to settle my mind to any serious study so I was relieved to hear the door open. I wasn’t keen to talk to Mathilde – to say she had had a painful reaction to the news about Claud would be an understatement – but I knew my duty as a friend. I just hoped her outrage would soon overwhelm her heartbreak.
But it wasn’t Mathilde who appeared between the bookshelves. It was Max.
Without asking permission he strode over and swung himself onto my window seat, positioning himself so that we were facing each other. He smiled with satisfaction and I wondered if he had come in here looking for me. I was mad at him, though, so I refused to speak. After a moment of silence his smile faded and he gestured towards my face.
“Does it still hurt?” he asked.
“Only if I smile or talk or change expressions,” I said with a straight face.
He winced and I relented. “It’s not that bad,” I admitted, “it already hurts less than it did.” He looked relieved but his consideration reminded me of my initial grievance.
“I can’t believe the stories flying around the castle,” I said, “what in the world have you been telling everybody?” He laughed at my angry expression.
“I thought you’d appreciate it,” he said with a smug grin, “I figured if you could put aside your aversion to pain for me, I could put aside my pride for you. I actually think I make a pretty good prince-in-distress.”
He laughed again and leaned back with his arms behind his head.
I was tempted to punch him in the ribs – the response I would have given any of my brothers if they struck such a pose – but I was actually rather touched by his words. As frustrating as the exaggerated stories were, they had certainly helped smooth my way.
“No-one else wants to hear it, but you and I know that it was your quick thinking that saved us. Why are you going to so much trouble for me? When I first got here, I thought you hated me.”
Max sat up at my words and looked at me seriously. But any hope for a real answer died when he suddenly relaxed and gave me an amused smile.
“You have no idea how much the girls used to plague me before you arrived,” he said. “Believe me, I appreciate you more and more with each passing, blessedly quiet, moment.”
From his expression I had expected a glib response but this rang surprisingly true. I hadn’t thought about it in relation to Max but I knew from experience how annoyed brothers got by younger sisters.
“You must have been what – eight? – when your sisters were born.” I asked curiously. “Old enough to think of yourself as an only child. What did you think when you found out your mother was pregnant?”
“I wasn’t very impressed by the idea of a baby. But I thought a brother might be alright. As you can see, that didn’t work out very well for me.”
But he laughed as he said it, to show he bore no malice towards his sisters.
“You must have been bored on your own, though. They’re so much younger – I can’t imagine you ever played together.”
“No, but in Arcadie there are plenty of noblemen’s sons my age. Wait until you meet Felix and Nate. I don’t think you can appreciate the scope of mischief we used to get up to until you meet them for yourself.” His eyes gleamed reminiscently.
“But what about out here?” I persisted, “At the Winter Castle? I can see how bored the twins get and there are two of them.”
“Yes, you poor thing. You bear all the brunt of their boredom now,” he said, and I was surprised to see that there was real concern, not teasing, in his eyes.
They were such a deep blue as they gazed at me that I found myself distracted. I kept losing my train of thought whenever I glanced at them. And it wasn’t just the colour. It was something about their steady expression. I had had glimpses of it before but I wasn’t fully prepared for the effect of such a prolonged, concentrated gaze. While we talked he looked at me as if I had his complete, undivided attention. As if nothing else mattered in this moment except for me and my words. I wasn’t used to boys looking at me like that, especially very attractive ones, and I felt a little overwhelmed.
“But it was different for me.” It took me a moment to focus back on what he was saying. “They never tried to keep me to the gardens. I was always doing something active. Riding or fishing or learning to shoot.”
“Not very nice weather for it,” I commented.
“Ah well, I guess it was supposed to toughen me up and on rainy days I mostly stayed inside and had fencing lessons.”
“But the girls could be doing some of that. They’re certainly old enough to ride.”
“They can ride,” he replied, to my surprise. “If you ever run out of topics of conversation you should ask them about their ponies. They can talk about them for hours.”
“I’m surprised it’s never come up,” I said.
“I guess they’re used to it,” he replied. “In their minds, riding is an activity for the Palace not the Castle.”
“But why shouldn’t they ride?” I asked, incensed on their behalf but also slightly terrified at the thought of trying to control them while they were on horseback.
“As you pointed out, it’s cold outside and it often rains. Plus the forest is dense here, not like the fields they’re used to riding across at home.” He smiled and nudged me with his elbow, inviting me to share his next quip. “I guess it’s only boys that need toughening up.”
I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Pity no-one told my brothers that. Or maybe it only applies to nobility. I’m pretty sure woodcutter’s children are supposed to be tough regardless of gender.”
“Well I can see why you left,” he said. “You’re not exactly the woodcutting type.” He was looking at me with the same intensity I remembered from my first day and for a moment I forgot to breathe. His words co
uld be taken either way but there was no mistaking the warmth in his tone. I was glad when the bell rang for lunch, removing my need to reply.
Max leapt lightly to his feet and held out his hand to help me up. I took it. It was the first time we had touched and I wondered if he was as acutely aware of this as I was. His grip was firm and warm and I had to force myself to pull my hand away.
“I didn’t realise it was so late,” I said. “Gretchen will have left by now and who knows what mischief the twins will have gotten up to. I’d better go fetch them for lunch.”
I was glad for the excuse to hurry from the room.
Day by day the bruises faded from my face and from Mathilde’s heart. Life settled back into routine with just a few significant changes. I still spent most of each day with the twins and every meal with the royal family. I still listened intently to the mealtime conversations which had turned towards the rival merits of our various neighbours. The king was clearly contemplating an alliance of some kind but he seemed undecided on the best choice of ally. For some reason this topic always made Max uncomfortable and I was surprised that the queen continued to introduce it to the meal table. Although the queen rarely gave her opinion, it was she who facilitated all the conversations around the table. She was usually very good at keeping the discussion going, always encouraging her son to contribute. I could only assume the proposed alliance must be important if she was willing to persist despite Max’s apparent frustration. I turned my morning study to alliances.
There seemed to be any number of political, military and trade advantages to an alliance. And our kingdom was large and fairly prosperous. If nothing else, our many resources should make us a popular partner. But I sensed there was a driver to this alliance that the royal family were careful not to mention in my presence. That niggling itch of something eluding me drove me to study harder than before. With the kitchen now firmly closed to me by my new social status, I added an evening study session to my morning one.
Fortunately for my sanity, my study was leavened by a daily dose of news from below stairs. Apparently all the staff had been exhaustively interviewed but no further treachery had been uncovered. The most surprising result of Claud’s defection was the unexpected friendship that had now grown up between Mathilde and Nikki. They were bound by their shared injury and outrage – and I couldn’t help but feel excluded. I was glad my days were absorbed with the royals. The twins and my study kept me so busy I had little time to nurse the small kernel of jealousy I felt as I watched Mathilde grow closer to Nikki. I tried my best to stamp it down and feel glad for my friend. After all, I saw less of her now that I no longer frequented the kitchen.
I reminded myself that this was only a taste of what it would be like in Arcadie – when the microcosm of the Winter Castle was expanded and all the people I had grown close to returned to their old friends. When I imagined Arcadie, I imagined myself abandoned – alone in a sea of strangers. After all, the big city was going to shatter this small community I had become a part of. All the people who had welcomed me with open arms – Mathilde, the queen, the twins, Max – had done so because out here they were separated from their normal networks. As a consequence of these depressing thoughts, I immersed myself in my current world, blocking Arcadie, and the summer, from my mind. A small part of me rebelled – afraid of the pain that would follow the inevitable shattering of my false reality. That part was silenced and it soon stopped rebelling at all.
Despite my drive for understanding, I had to admit that study could get boring – and lonely. I looked across the dark library. The lantern I was reading by was bright and cheery and the fires were still burning, keeping the room comfortably warm. But the sea of bookshelves looked endless in the dark and I had to fight not to imagine someone lurking just out of sight. I was just considering taking my book up to the sitting room in the princesses’ suite when a light appeared over by the door. After a moment, Max came into view, carrying a lantern.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked.
“Please do,” I said with a smile, “I’d be glad of the company.” And I’m glad I didn’t go upstairs after all I added in my mind.
The eeriness of the large, dark room was dispelled by the presence of another person and the prospect of company brought an instant lift to my mood.
Max sat down in an armchair close to my mine and for a few minutes we read in companionable silence. The first time he sighed I ignored it. The second time I peered at the title of his book. Ah, that explained it. I had read that book last week and the author’s sentences were so long you often had to read them two or three times over. I went back to my own book. The third time he sighed so did I.
“I’m trying to read over here, Max,” I said.
“Sorry,” he replied. But after a moment his frustration got the better of him. “I can’t stand this guy. Honestly, this book is impossible to read.”
He lobbed the book across the room towards the bookshelf on international relations. Despite my horror at this abuse of a book, I couldn’t help but admire his aim. The book sailed halfway across the room and hit the correct shelf, ricocheting to the floor with a thud.
“He’s pretentious, yes,” I said. “But if you can wade through those sentences you’ll find he raises some interesting points. I agree with him that it’s important to maintain a balance of power but I think he overemphasises military power. This book gives a more balanced view of the importance of trade.” I held up the book I was reading. “You should try this one when I’ve finished.”
“Maybe I should try it now. All these books are mine after all, not yours,” he replied. I looked over, shocked at his rude arrogance, and was reassured by the smile on his face. He was making a joke.
Before I could think of an appropriate response, he lunged out of his chair and attempted to wrest the book from my grasp. I laughed and attempted to fend him off but he was too strong. After a moment’s tussle he had the book in his hand and was holding it above his head. I leapt to my feet and tried to grab it back but I was too short. I attempted to jump up and reach it but he easily pushed me away. I put one hand on his shoulder, using it as leverage, but he used his free hand to fend me off. We were both laughing but suddenly I was aware of the way he smelled – like wood smoke and rain and parchment – and of the feel of his muscles, straining as he wrestled with me. I froze and he seemed to instantly catch the change of mood, sucking in his breath and staring at me. Our faces were so close they were almost touching and for a moment I couldn’t remember what we were fighting over.
Max cleared his throat and stepped back, snapping me out of my daze. With an exaggerated, courtly bow he returned my book.
“Your book, my lady, with my apologies,” he said, with a ridiculously large smile.
I could tell he was trying to recreate the stupid, joking mood of a moment ago and I was grateful to him for covering my momentary lapse. The royals might treat me like one of the family but I couldn’t allow myself to forget the truth. Otherwise there would be more embarrassing incidents like this one.
“Thank you,” I said, my graciousness equally over the top. And then, tentatively, “I could explain the main concepts to you.” I gestured towards the discarded book. “Then you won’t have to wrestle with those sentences.”
“Really, would you?” Max flopped back into his armchair and smiled at me gratefully. “As long as you promise not to tell anyone what a study dunce I am,” he said.
“Deal,” I smiled, “as long as you promise not to sigh while I’m trying to explain.”
“That’s what I said to Alyssa!”
Max looked over at me in triumph. We were sitting at lunch and the king had just unknowingly backed up Max’s argument from the night before. Max and I now read in the library every night and often we discussed what we were reading, debating the various theories presented by the authors.
I glared back at him, angry at being brought into it. He must know I couldn’t argue against the king!
“You told Alyssa that you think Lanover got cheated in their trade deal with Northhelm?” the king asked in surprise.
“Yes. But she agrees with Silvester,” he said, naming the author I was currently reading. “She thinks it was deep dealing on Lanover’s part. That it’s not really about trade. That Lanover want to ensure Northhelm becomes economically reliant on them.”
The king regarded me steadily and I glared at Max again.
“It’s nice to hear you taking an interest in such things,” the king said to his son. “When exactly did you have this deep discussion?”
“Last night,” replied Max. “We study in the library in the evenings. We don’t agree on much, although we do agree that Rangmere won’t like it if Northhelm and Lanover form a stronger alliance.”
“Ah,” chimed in the queen, “that explains where you’ve been disappearing to.”
“Sounds boring,” piped in Sophie.
“I wish we didn’t have to study,” added Lily, sounding depressed.
I smiled at her encouragingly. I knew she was having trouble with her mathematics and had been attempting to help her with it for several days. Unfortunately mathematics wasn’t my strong suit either.
The interjection from the twins turned the conversation to the latest report from Gretchen and the rest of the meal was spent discussing the princesses’ progress in their studies. I was extra supportive in all my comments, glad to have the king and queen’s attention turned away from me.
When the king appeared in the library that evening I was reminded of my first impression of him. His attention wasn’t as easily distracted as it sometimes appeared to be. Before the incident with Claud he had seemed oblivious to my presence, I wondered now if that had actually been the case. Either way, he certainly wasn’t oblivious to it now.
His presence made me constrained and uncomfortable. It was an honour, of course, but an honour I would have preferred to do without. I enjoyed discussing my reading material with Max but I hardly felt free to set up an opposing opinion to the king.
The Princess Companion: A Retelling of The Princess and the Pea (The Four Kingdoms Book 1) Page 10