***
“Don’t grind your teeth, dear. It makes them unsightly.” His grandmother’s whisper was just loud enough to reach his ears.
“If I must suffer through this bizarre bridal auction I will grind my teeth as I please.” He kept his voice low, but he was sure his anger bled through the words. “If you would let me leave—”
Dame Merriweather held up a single finger, but he stopped.
“My boy,” she said, sounding tired and sad, “if I could let you go I would. But you must stay.”
“But why?”
“I can’t tell. It isn’t clear. I just know you’re needed here.”
He sighed, and tried to relax his tensed muscles. “Very well, Grandmother. I suppose I can handle the tedium.”
The Dame’s voice settled back into her more normal, acerbic tones. “Tedium, is it? That’s what bothers you so?”
“Of course.” He refused to admit to anything else.
“Then I retract my sympathy. Now stop grinding your teeth.”
***
Bianca could hear the noise of the column moving through the city. The palace’s ceremonial entrance had been pulled wide for the day, and she stood with the others on a slightly raised platform, in full view of the avenue that ran up to the large double gates. When at last the first line of prancing horses appeared before them, she thought briefly about bolting for the stables, but she took some deep breaths instead. Her only concession to her nerves was to reach out and grab Vivienne’s hand. Her cousin squeezed back, and then leaned in close to whisper in Bianca’s ear.
“You’re holding up beautifully. Don’t panic, I’ll be right here. Now, let’s see. The banners in front are from Hellas. They’ve sent the queen’s uncle, a man by the name of Edicus. I understand he’s something of a scholar.”
“Won’t he be terribly old?”
“Not necessarily; some noble families are so wide flung, brothers and sisters can be generations apart. He could even be younger than the queen, for all we know…” Vivienne trailed off, as they caught sight of the man riding alone in the midst of the Hellene contingent. “Although it appears that in this case, yes, he’s too old.”
He was, and no doubt about it. But, as he drew nearer, Bianca could see that he was not unattractive. His hair, though white, was full and thick, and he sat his horse with the grace of a born rider. When he dismounted and climbed the steps to make his greeting, she saw that his face was still handsome, despite the lines of age, and his smile was kind.
“Lord Edicus, I am most pleased you could respond to our invitation.” Bianca held out her hand, feeling silly at making a formal greeting, but Edicus seemed perfectly comfortable, bowing low over her wrist.
“I was pleased to be invited, your highness.”
He bestowed a brief kiss on her palm, and then moved on to make his greeting to the king and queen. Vivienne once more leaned close.
“Oh my. I may have been mistaken. He’s not too old at all. Perhaps ‘perfectly aged’ is a better description.”
Bianca hid a small smile behind her hand.
Edicus was ushered off into the palace, to settle into the suite he’d been given for his stay. It was all perfectly timed, so that as he was led off, the second suitor appeared in the avenue.
“This would be Prince Grantig. He’s one of the sons of the king of Gallia. I’ve met him before; I can’t wait to see what you think of him.” Vivienne smiled so wickedly that Bianca looked at her in alarm, but Vivi just folded her lips shut and nodded at the sight approaching them.
Prince Grantig was also riding alone in the midst of his retinue, but that was the only resemblance he bore to Lord Edicus. Grantig was young, probably no older than Bianca, and covered in such a profuse amount of hair that she was unlikely to be able to tell if he were handsome or not, despite its being brushed and neatly tied back. His clothes looked to be high quality, but fell about him haphazardly, as though no tailor had ever touched them, let alone actually measured and fit him. Bianca risked asking a brief question of Vivienne.
“Is that the fashion in Gallia?”
Her cousin smirked. “No.”
Grantig slid from his horse and ambled forward with a loose, relaxed gait. Bianca made her formal greeting and offered her hand, whereupon the prince took it up in both his hands, and brought it to his forehead.
“Well met, your highness. The sun shines bright on our meeting.”
Grantig drifted right past Regal and Isabelle, and the staff, uncertain of what to do at the skipping of protocol, bundled him off to his suite, leaving Bianca and Vivienne with a moment to giggle together.
“Well, that was… different.”
“He’s a free spirit.” Vivienne cocked her head in thought. “I think he eats a lot of wild mushrooms.”
“He’s nice, though, isn’t he?”
“Oh, yes. Not always as clean as he was today, but quite nice. If you chose him, he’d never try to take the crown away from you.”
A new wave of horses was advancing, and Bianca squinted at their banners. “I think I recognize this one. It’s the island nation, isn’t it? Errin?”
Vivienne nodded. “They’ve sent Prince Felix. I’ve never met him, but he’s worth serious consideration, just for the connection he would bring. Toldas has a coastline, and Ire is unmatched at naval warfare.”
Bianca watched as the prince drew closer. She had to admit, he was handsome in a boyish way. Close to her age, perhaps a few years older, with beautiful blonde hair that shone in the sun. When he leapt from his horse and came bounding up the steps, she added ‘energetic’ to her list of descriptors.
“Prince Felix, I’m so pleased you could respond to our invitation.”
“The pleasure is all mine, your highness.” He swept forward in a florid bow, and then up again, without taking the liberty of kissing her hand. Bianca appreciated the restraint. “My family was ecstatic at the invitation, as was I. Whatever the outcome of my visit, I hope this will bode well for a closer relationship between Errin and Toldas.”
Bianca smiled at him as he greeted the others, delighted with his open demeanor.
“That was rather straightforward.” Vivienne murmured the words. “I think you have an ally there, Bianca.”
The next introduction was charming, and Bianca couldn’t help but smile. Prince Cansado, sent as the candidate from the Castillians, was all of five years old, and waiting in the sun had made him terribly sleepy. He’d dozed off in his litter, and was still rubbing his eyes as he made his bows beneath the watchful eyes of his nurse. When he shuffled off the platform Bianca held a quick conference with Vivi.
“They can’t possibly think I’ll marry the child, can they?”
“Who knows?” Vivienne shrugged. “The Castillian queen is jealous of her throne, and might think you’re the same. By sending you a child she’s sending the message that Cansado would not expect to rule with you. And you’re young; you’d still be able to bear children by the time he could father them.”
Bianca was shocked, but Vivi just smiled at her. “You can’t think about it as a match between people, Bianca. You have to think of it as a match between nations. Some rulers would be just as happy to take a child to wed, and then keep them in the nursery for the next decade.”
Bianca shook her head, but turned back to the parade.
The Talian contingent was next, and Vivienne whispered the suitor’s name and position in her ear. Lord Scemo was the nephew of the current king, and he had a reputation for being a ladies’ man. Bianca watched him dismount, and had no trouble believing it. His hair, as black as her own, was perfectly coiffed, just as his trousers were perfectly fitted, his cravat was perfectly folded, and his jacket was perfectly pressed. He drew off his riding gloves as he came up the stairs, holding them with a studied casualness in his left hand, as he used the right to grasp her own and bend over her wrist in a perfect bow. When he straightened, he touched his hair briefly to make sure it was still in place, and th
en curved his lips into a smile guaranteed to send a maiden’s heart swooning. Bianca spoke her formal greeting, and after gracing her with a smoldering look he moved off to greet the others.
“Well?”
“I think I detest him.”
“Good for you, cousin.” Vivienne was pleased. “You have sense.”
Lord Cymedrol, from Kemri, made a more favorable impression. He wasn’t overwhelmingly handsome, but he was a pleasant looking man, and Bianca got the sense that he was there to treat her as a human being, rather than a prize. Vivienne liked him, not for any personal reason but because, as she said, “Kemri could field a hundred thousand soldiers, and never notice they’d gone missing. The land is crawling with people.”
At long last the parade of suitors was coming to an end. The candidates had entered in the same order that they had arrived, in order to avoid any show of favoritism from Regal, so the final suitor was the one who had come just the day before.
Dule was a kingdom to the south, and even Vivienne didn’t know much about the royal family. Prince Anders was not the royal heir, but he carried a letter from the king proclaiming him to be his father’s favorite son, and Dule was certainly capable of fielding a large army. Bianca knew he deserved her attention as much as any of the others, but her head had begun pounding. She registered the Prince’s approach, but hardly took stock of him until he was standing in front of her. He was plain in the face, and gangly in his limbs, and the fingers that took hers were long and thin. She could not muster any enthusiasm for her greeting, though she tried her best.
“Greetings, Prince Anders. I am so pleased you could accept our invitation.”
“I imagine you would be best pleased if you could sit down, and be done with this long presentation.”
Bianca peered into his face, but she could detect no trace of affront. Rather, he was smiling gently, as though he understood not only that his words were true, but why they were true. As though he didn’t mind. So the smile she gave him back was warm and sincere, despite her exhaustion.
“Forgive me, it has been a long day. But truly, I am pleased to meet you, and to find you so understanding.”
“It does not seem to me to be a difficult thing to understand.” He smiled again, and Bianca thought that if his face was plain, it was also warm, and sincere. “Perhaps you will have a chance to rest before the ball tonight, and I may claim a dance from you.”
“I would be delighted.” She watched him greet the king and queen briefly, and then be led off into the palace. Vivienne was silent at her side until he was out of sight.
“There’s something about that one.”
“He seems kind.”
Vivienne shook her head. “That isn’t what I mean. It’s hard to explain.”
“Well, you can try at the ball tonight. Right now, though, I am going to take off this dreadful dress and have a nap.”
“Shall I wake you when Ella arrives with your gown?”
“Please. But not a second before.”
Chapter 21
Bianca didn’t get to sleep nearly as long as she had hoped. Ella arrived early, and dragged her out of bed and directly into a bath, against her protests.
“I spent an hour in the tub this morning!”
“And then you stood in the sun and sweated in that stifling brocade. You need a bath.”
“I need sleep!”
“It’s hard being a princess.”
Ella was merciless with her toilette; Bianca didn’t even get to lounge in the bath. Before she knew it she was washed, dried, powdered, and sitting before the mirror in her room, with Ella dabbing just a hint of scented oil on her temples.
“Ella, aren’t you attending the ball this evening?”
“Of course. I never miss a chance to dance with Max.”
“Then don’t you need to dress, as well?”
“I’ve brought my gown with me; I’ll get it on while you’re getting into yours, and then I’ll come back to do your hair.”
Bianca sighed, her last hope at a reprieve gone.
A maid brought her some tea to sip, and between Ella’s delicate brushstrokes Bianca managed to down half a pot. By the time her face paint was complete she felt almost awake, and ready to don her gown.
Ella’s new design was a daring thing. It borrowed from current fashion, with a tight laced band running under the bust, but instead of flowing loosely around the body, it was cut to fit close all the way to the hip, and then flared to float gently above the floor. She hadn’t designed it to be worn with the old, hip-length style of corset, however, just the modern short stays. In other words, Bianca’s natural form was going to be on display.
She found she was looking forward to it.
Ella had made the underdress of both the silks Bianca had selected. The front was silver, then the sides and back were draped in the ice blue. The silver-shot mesh overdress floated on top, creating the impression of white with deep shadows beneath it. The inky blue velvet ribbon had been set to one side, along with ribbons of silver and white, to be woven in her hair, and Ella had found a silk of the same color to create the banding under the bust. Finally, she’d solved the problem of covering Bianca’s back without giving her a high-necked gown. She left the scooped neckline low, as fashion dictated, but she created a tall, free-standing collar that rose well above the nape of the neck.
It was gorgeous, and Bianca loved it, even if it meant she had to bathe and powder and be woken early in order to wear it. She slipped into both layers and laced the banding shut with the silver cording Ella had attached. Then she resolutely turned away from her mirror. She wasn’t going to look until Ella came back, and could see her reaction.
Fortunately for her patience, she didn’t have to wait long for Ella’s return. Unfortunately, Ella insisted on doing her hair before she’d let Bianca look. She gathered most of Bianca’s hair into a low knot that sat just above the high collar, and then spent ages curling the front into perfect little ringlets. Then she wound the ribbons in and out of the hair, so that they peeked out of the inky black curls, and let the ends dangle down so they barely brushed her collarbone.
At last Ella was done, and she gestured to the mirror with a flourish.
Bianca’s jaw dropped. Over the years any number of courtiers had told her she was lovely, and she wasn’t blind. She had known, in a vague sort of way, that they were correct. But the woman reflected back in the mirror was more than lovely. She was enchanting.
Bianca thought that perhaps she ought to be thinking of the impression she was going to make on the seven men who had come to court her. But as she gazed on her reflection, she could really only wonder one thing.
What would Robin think of his snow maiden?
***
Ella and Vivienne escorted her down to the ballroom, but insisted that she enter alone.
“They’re here to see you, darling,” Vivienne scolded. “You can’t think to hide behind us.”
Ella was more reassuring. “You look beautiful. Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”
They backed away from her and slipped through the door. The majordomo announced them in ringing tones, and Bianca heard the crowd murmuring greetings as the two young women made their way down the grand staircase.
It was time, and Bianca swallowed hard and forced her shoulders back. Then she nodded to the footman, and walked with a measured tread into the ballroom.
Beside her, the majordomo cried her name, but she couldn’t hear him, for her ears were ringing. Below her a sea of faces looked up, and she almost panicked, but then her eyes began picking her friends out of the crowd. Fain was standing at the bottom of the stairs, ready to offer his arm once she reached the floor. Vivienne stood next to him, a small smile of encouragement on her face. Max and Ella stood to the other side of her foster-brother, and when she looked at them, Max gave a quick twitch of his head to the stairs.
Ah yes. She needed to go down now.
It was nerve wracking, but she concentrat
ed on keeping her balance and looking graceful. Each step brought her closer to the waiting throng, and she tried to focus, to see them as individuals rather than a mob. There—that grey-headed lord was smiling at her. Next to him, a rather fashionable young woman broke off in her appraisal, and made a beeline through the crowd toward Ella. A matronly woman several steps back looked scandalized, although whether it was at Bianca’s appearance or what her companion was whispering in her ear, who could say? And, right at the bottom of the stairs, Billy Notter was standing in his page’s uniform, holding a drink for her.
Bianca made it safely to Billy’s side, and gratefully took the punch from him. “Thank you, Master Notter.”
“I say, your highness, this is a jolly good party!” Billy had clearly picked up slang from the capital, without absorbing court manners. Bianca had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
“Billy,” Fain admonished him, “if you’re going to dress like a page you must act the part.”
“Oh!” The boy’s eyes widened. “Sorry. Ummm…” He thought furiously, and then made a quick little bow. “It was my pleasure, your highness.”
She nodded at him, and he flashed a brilliant grin before darting off towards the refreshment table.
“I know, I know.” Fain was holding up a hand to forestall Vivienne. “You like him as he is. But he wants to be a proper page, and I am trying to teach him.”
“I can’t imagine why he wants to be a proper page.” Max drawled. “I never was, and I turned out fine.”
“Mostly thanks to me.” Ella said with a prim tone and a twinkle in her eye.
“Right you are, my lady wife. Would you care to dance?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
The two headed off for the dance floor, and Vivienne looked wistfully after them.
“Fain, why don’t you ask my cousin to dance?”
Vivi whipped her head back at Bianca’s words. “Oh, no. There will be dancing all night. I’m not leaving you here alone, you’ll get all nervous again.”
“Perhaps I may be of service.” Lord Edicus had approached in time to catch Vivienne’s response. “Princess,” he said, bowing to Bianca, “may I have the honor of the first dance?”
Once Upon a Romance 03 - With True Love's Kiss Page 14