A Midwinter's Wedding

by Melanie Cellier

  A shaking groom stepped forward and took charge of the animal. Cordelia wasn’t sure who looked more scared–the groom or the horse. Was he afraid of the chestnut or afraid of losing his position? Perhaps he had been responsible for the stallion.

  In another moment they had both disappeared from sight, and two smaller hives of activity began to form within the courtyard. One centred around the royals as both Arcadian and Northhelmian officials rushed forward to check their safety. The second crowd surrounded the injured servants.

  Several doctors and nurses appeared from the palace and directed some of the servants to prepare stretchers. The groom sat up, and the maid gripped the hand of one of the nurses, so they were alive at least.

  The sound of ringing hooves behind her made her flinch. And she wasn’t alone. Several heads in the courtyard whipped around to identify the source of the noise. Turning, she saw Ferdinand racing towards the palace on a mount she hadn’t seen before.

  He pulled up beside her and scanned the crowd. His eyes picked out Marie, Rafe and then William, who had abandoned his horse and nearly made it to his sister’s side.

  “I was already on my way back when I heard there was some sort of accident. I borrowed this horse and rushed here as fast as I could. What happened?” he asked Cordelia, his eyes now on the injured. The voice of one of the doctors rang across the courtyard, directing the servants as they gently lifted the patients onto the stretchers.

  “It was a horse. A huge stallion. I don’t know if it was Northhelmian or Arcadian, but it got loose in the courtyard.”

  “And charged the crowd?” Ferdinand sounded incredulous.

  “It looked more spooked than aggressive. But I didn’t hear any unusual noises that might have set him off. It seems odd indeed that such a nervous animal would be brought into a busy courtyard like this.”

  “More than odd.” Ferdinand narrowed his eyes as he stared across at the large royal stable. “Criminal, more like it. If you’ll excuse me, I need to have a word with the head groom.”

  He nodded at her politely, but his eyes didn’t leave the stable building.

  Cordelia fought disappointment as he rode through the crowd at a careful walk. She could hardly blame him for his distraction, given the situation. She was being nothing but foolish to even notice his lack of attention, let alone to miss the admiration in his gaze.

  “Are you all right, Princess?” William appeared at her side, as if summoned by her thoughts, his handsome face focussed on her.

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine. But what about those servants?”

  “The groom has a rather nasty cut but is otherwise unhurt. Unfortunately, that’s because the maid broke his fall.” He grimaced. “She broke her leg. All in all, it could have been worse.” He frowned and his eyes strayed towards the stables. “I can’t imagine who brought a beast like that into the courtyard at such a time.”

  “Ferdinand said the same thing. He’s already gone to speak to the head groom.”

  “Oh, has he?” William’s expression lightened. “I didn’t see him arrive. I should have guessed it, though. He always manages to be right where he’s most needed.”

  He smiled his charming smile again and offered his hand to help her down. “Come inside, and I’ll introduce you to Max and Alyssa.”

  As they made their way into the palace, the rest of the courtyard slowly emptied as well. The injured servants were long gone, and the last of the carriages rolled towards the stables. Cordelia followed with her eyes, but Ferdinand failed to reappear. What excuse was the head groom giving him?

  The other royals had gathered inside the entrance hall. Marie and Alyssa’s conversation flew so fast Cordelia could barely keep up, so she turned to Max and Rafe.

  “That was very brave of you. Both of you.”

  “I didn’t do much,” said Rafe with his usual good nature. “The credit belongs to Prince Max here.”

  “Still, I’m glad you’re all right.” Cordelia couldn’t resist giving her brother a squeeze. She appreciated his solidity after the fright. He hugged her back and then pushed her away.

  “Dellie, this is Prince Maximilian from Arcadia. Max, this is my sister, Princess Cordelia.”

  “It’s lovely to meet you,” said Max.

  “And you.” Cordelia gave a small curtsey. She felt almost shy beneath the intensity of his blue eyes. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” Her eyes flicked to Alyssa.

  “Ah yes,” he smiled broadly, following her gaze. “I think the whole of the Four Kingdoms has heard about our tale. What could be more romantic than a prince marrying a woodcutter’s daughter?”

  Cordelia studied his face a little wistfully. She wished someone would look at her with the sort of love she saw blazing in his eyes when they rested on his wife. “So it’s true, then? She really is a woodcutter’s daughter?”

  “Absolutely.” Max frowned. “That doesn’t really sum her up, though. Her mother was a merchant’s daughter and taught Alyssa to love books almost as much as she does people. She’s well-read, intelligent, beloved by most of our kingdom and godmother-chosen as well.” He looked back down at me and chuckled. “But yes, her father did chop wood for a living.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Cordelia, “I didn’t mean any disparagement of Princess Alyssa.”

  “No, no, of course not.” Max shook his head. “I’m the one who should apologise. I just want the rest of the kingdoms to appreciate her as much as Arcadia does.” He raised his voice. “Alyssa! Come over here and meet Rafe’s sister.”

  Marie looked up from their tête-à-tête. “He’s right, I shouldn’t be monopolising you.” She led the way towards the others and introduced the two princesses. And then frowned.

  “William, we should send someone to check on those injured servants. And to the stables to find out what in the kingdoms happened with that horse.”

  “Already done,” said William. “I talked to the doctors myself, and Ferdy has gone to see the head groom.”

  “Oh, good. That’s taken care of, then.” She turned back to the Arcadians. “Let me show you to your rooms. I’m sure you’d like to freshen up before the evening meal.”

  Cordelia trailed along behind the rest of the royals, her mind on Ferdinand. William and Marie trusted him like a brother, and that gave her confidence that she had made the right decision to leave the matter of the parfumier in his hands as well.

  She wished she could shrug off the incident in the courtyard as quickly as the rest of them seemed to have done. The sound of the poor horse’s terrified whinny, and the equally terrified screams of the servants, kept ringing in her head. The haunting sounds did nothing but strengthen her sense of impending danger.

  Chapter 8

  “Excuse me, Your Highness. Before you leave, I need to know which dress you would like to wear to the ball tonight.”

  “Ball?” Cordelia, who had nearly escaped the room, popped back through the doorway. “Did you say ball, Priscilla?”

  “I did, Your Highness.”

  “How did I not know about the ball tonight?” She plonked onto her bed and began running through her gowns in her mind.

  “I couldn’t say, Your Highness.” Priscilla paused and then seemed to unbend a little. “I believe it is in honour of the Arcadian heir.”

  “My first Northhelmian ball. I wonder who I’ll dance with.” William seemed like a given. What would it feel like to be held in his arms?

  Unbidden, an image of Ferdinand filled her mind. She pictured him in a ballroom and couldn’t prevent a small giggle escaping.

  “Is there something amusing about the idea of a ball, Your Highness?” Priscilla raised her eyebrows.

  Cordelia schooled her expression back into seriousness. “I’m just excited to have the chance to dance again.” Next to riding, dancing was Cordelia’s favourite activity.

  To her surprise, Priscilla’s face actually softened into a small smile. “May I suggest the red dress? The one Celine had made right before we departed.�
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  Cordelia considered the suggestion. She had been surprised when her younger sister had offered the dress. It was a striking colour and a bold dress–the sort of thing her precocious younger sister loved, and the fourteen-year-old hadn’t even had a chance to wear it yet.

  Cordelia suspected that their mother might have had something to do with the generous donation.

  “I believe Her Majesty was glad to see the dress sent with you,” said Priscilla, apparently reading Cordelia’s mind. “I think it would be perfect for your Northhelmian debut.”

  Cordelia examined her maid closely. Was Priscilla making a joke at Celine’s expense? A subtle one, certainly, but… She shook her head in amazement. Unexpected.

  “Sounds perfect.” She immediately scrapped her plans for the day. First she was going to find Rafe and demand to know why he hadn’t told her about the ball. Then, she needed to get ready. She almost skipped out of the doorway. In a few short hours she would be dancing again.

  A murmur ran through the crowd as Cordelia descended the stairs into the ballroom. The herald had announced her, and a fanfare had even sounded, as she stepped through the doors to the top of the sweeping staircase.

  By the time she reached the bottom step and placed her hand into William’s, she had already determined to thank Priscilla. She was turning out to be a better personal maid than Cordelia had expected. The woman’s dress choice had been masterful.

  The prince swept her into a dance, and her spirits soared along with her feet. She only listened to William’s compliments with half attention, too busy marvelling at the ballroom. The dance floor took up less space than the Lanoverian main ballroom, but it was much taller. She tipped her head back and marvelled at the ceiling, a full two stories above her head. The large crystal chandeliers glowed in the distance.

  “You’re not listening to me, are you?” She could hear the laugh in William’s voice.

  “Sorry. I’m distracted by the beautiful room.”

  He looked around as if noticing it for the first time. “This is nothing. Wait until you see it decorated for the Midwinter Masquerade.”

  “What’s that?” She was pretty sure just from the name that she was going to love it.

  “It’s a big masked ball that Mother and Father always throw on Midwinter’s Eve. I thought maybe we wouldn’t have it this year, since the wedding is the next day, but with so many visitors it’s going to be a bigger event than ever.”

  “It sounds delightful.”

  “A whole team work on decorating the ballroom. There will be evergreen boughs everywhere and holly. And maybe even some mistletoe.” His eyes twinkled at her mischievously.

  Cordelia repressed a blush.

  “But that’s still weeks away. I noticed you haven’t been out riding since the unfortunate incident when the Arcadians arrived. I hope it hasn’t put you off.”

  “Oh, no. I love to ride. I’ve been otherwise occupied.”

  “Well, you must go riding with me again, then.”

  Cordelia gathered her courage. “I would enjoy that, thank you. Perhaps…perhaps a different mount, though?”

  William grimaced. “I shouldn’t have gone for safe, should I? In my defence, I thought it was better safe than sorry.”

  “I understand. Perhaps if I tell you a little bit about my horse at home?”

  “To tell you the truth, I’m not really the one to talk to.”

  Cordelia carefully kept her smile in place. She would have enjoyed talking about Butterscotch.

  “I don’t have much talent for choosing riding mounts for others,” William continued. “I’ll leave the job to Ferdy next time. Which is what I should have done from the beginning. He’s the horse enthusiast between us.” He smiled down at her. “I’m very sorry to prove such a disappointment, Princess.”

  Cordelia smiled back. After all, no girl could find a smile like that disappointing. Could they?

  Two hours later she eased herself into a seat on the edge of the ballroom. She had been dancing non-stop, and her feet needed a break. She wriggled them out of her dancing slippers and stretched them out, hiding both the movement and her empty shoes beneath her large skirts.

  She hadn’t danced with William again since that first dance, but neither had she wanted for competent and admiring dance partners. In fact, she had been claimed by an eager young gentleman before the music from her first dance had completely died away. William had handed her over readily enough, and she had watched his face out of the corner of her eye for any discontent. But he had remained as cheerful as he had been throughout their dance.

  She had tried to consider her own feelings on the matter, but her new partner was such a skilled dancer that she had been swept up in the movement before she had time to reach a conclusion. Heart searching would have to wait for later.

  Now she had a quiet moment but was much too exhausted for deep thoughts. Instead she occupied herself with watching the swirling silks and satins and debating whether it would be worth the energy to get up and go in search of a drink.

  She looked around, but not a footman was in sight. She gave a soft sigh and started sliding her feet back into her slippers.

  “Good evening, Your Highness.”

  Startled, her foot slipped, and her shoe tipped over onto its side. She chewed the inside of her cheek and tried to right it again without letting her movement show.

  Her mind half occupied by the activity, she looked around for the speaker, trying to muster a civil greeting.

  “Oh, Ferdy, it’s just you.” Her words slipped out without thought, as her foot slid into the slipper. She gave him a big smile to cover up her inadvertent informality.

  Thankfully his return smile seemed genuinely pleased. “Yes, just me, I’m afraid. I’ve been watching you dance. I mean…” his eyes got even rounder than usual and he looked uncomfortable, “…I’ve been watching all the dancers.” He looked down at his feet. “I’d ask you to dance myself, but I’m afraid I’m rather hopeless at it.”

  Cordelia could well imagine. She tried to show her lack of judgment in her smile. “To be honest, it wasn’t a dance but a drink that I was wishing for.”

  Ferdinand straightened. “Well, that I can easily provide. I’ll be back in a moment.”

  He disappeared amongst the dancers, and Cordelia sat back and closed her eyes, hoping to keep anymore dance partners away.

  Surely no more than a minute had passed before a clearing throat made her eyes fly open again.

  “You’re back already, that was quick!”

  Ferdinand bowed. “I’m glad to be of service.” He paused as if considering his next words. “You look a little warm, Princess Cordelia. Would you like to walk for a moment on the balcony?”

  He gestured towards the side of the ballroom opposite the main stairs. The wall was lined with tall glass doors which provided access to a large marble balcony. Several of the doors stood open to allow some of the cold night air into the room.

  “Thank you, that would be lovely.” Cordelia rose to her feet, grateful she had managed to get her feet back into her slippers, and took Ferdinand’s arm. Awkwardly they made their way past the dancers and into the night.

  “Ahh,” she said, tipping her head back and closing her eyes again. “This is nice.” The freezing air felt pleasant against her flushed face.

  She moved over to the railing and peered over the edge. It was more of a terrace than a true balcony, a few shallow steps leading down into the garden. Glancing around she saw with relief that they weren’t the only dancers seeking relief in the winter night. Agreeing to come out hadn’t been an error in protocol then.

  Slowly they wandered towards the farthest end.

  “Do you usually attend all the royal balls just so you can stand in a corner and watch?” She glanced at him through her lashes, wondering if he would find the question too cheeky.

  “See, there you go.” He sighed. “I knew I was going to look like a fool. Normally I schedule my patrol shi
fts so they coincide with functions like these. Gives me a handy excuse.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t work at Midwinter, though. There are far too many balls and parties and dances. Which is why I always go home to visit my parents on their estates for Midwinter.”

  “Except for this year?”

  He shrugged. “Marie is more than my childhood friend, she’s also my princess. Which makes staying in the capital for her wedding compulsory. Unfortunately, there are some things that can’t be avoided when you’re the son of a Marquis.” His eyes narrowed. “William is getting a rather unholy amusement out of the whole thing.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’re not as bad a dancer as you think,” said Cordelia, trying to be encouraging.

  “Worse, I’m afraid,” said Ferdinand.

  The unexpected stab of disappointment took Cordelia by surprise. She normally never chose to walk outside or sit out more than a dance or two at most. But she was enjoying her time with Ferdinand. She felt comfortable, no longer on show. She would have liked to dance with him.

  They had reached the far end, and the light was so dim, she could barely make out his features. For an unthinking moment, she wanted to lean into him and feel his arms around her. The winter air had become less and less pleasant, and she would appreciate his warmth. She swayed in his direction before pulling herself up straight.

  Looking up, she found his eyes fixed on her face. Could he see her properly in the gloom? Had he been able to read her expression?

  He cleared his throat. “Your glass is empty, Princess Cordelia. Allow me to refill it for you.”

  He whisked the glass from her hand and was gone before she could formulate a coherent answer. She backed up against the wall and sunk onto a low bench. What had come over her? Thank goodness Priscilla hadn’t been present to witness her foolishness.

  “You again!”

  Cordelia’s head jerked up. The words had come from the garden below the balcony. And she recognised the voice. It was the third time she had heard it.

  “Yes, me.” The second voice was familiar too. The same pair then. Were the unknown noble and his underling following her around? Or was it just luck that put her in a place to overhear all their conversations?