by Lucy Roy
Freya feigned shock. “You mean you don’t think that?”
He twined his fingers through hers, then kissed the back of her hand. “I think that I know you better than anyone in there. I think if you come to me on our wedding day, bogged down by frills and lace, it won’t have been your own decision.”
“Do you also believe I’m not the type to speak up for myself if they tried to force it on me?” Gripping his lapels, she leaned up on her toes and lowered her voice to a whisper. “As it so happens, I do plan to wear a bit of lace.”
Aer stilled, then laughed quietly. “We’ve still got nearly two months before our wedding, yet you’re already tormenting me.” He brushed a hand through her hair, then cupped her cheeks and kissed her. “Have fun. I’ll see you tonight.”
“You, too. Try not to get shot with an arrow.”
He grinned. “I’ll be sure to tell Laz how strong your faith is in his skills.”
Laughing, she shoved him back. “Goodbye, highness.”
He blew her a kiss. “Goodbye, Valkyrie.”
Once he’d turned the corner and was out of sight, she opened the door to her chambers and went inside, hoping to find some semblance of calm, despite the number of occupants she knew it would have.
The organized chaos she saw awaiting her when she stepped inside made her stop short.
Kallan had set up his dressing pedestal in the center of the room, his design case and stack of papers on the table he’d pulled from beside Freya’s vanity. Rini and Tyna had drawings of hairstyles and makeup combinations strewn across the table where Freya would normally take her meals, their collection of cosmetics piled nearby. Ordona and Lea were sitting beside each other on the bed, poring over the surrounding stacks of detailed sketches of the floral arrangements the planners had come up with.
“Ah, my lady!” Kallan said, grinning when he saw her. “Come, come, we’ve got much to do!”
“Oh, good, you’re here!” Ordona rose, a sheath of papers clutched in her hand, and approached. She’d donned a lavender dress, a simple cut made of soft muslin and silk. The color was perfectly accented by her golden skin and dark hair, which had been tucked into a chignon at her neck. “We’ve gotten some preliminary ideas back regarding flowers and decor, so I’ve asked Kallan to try a few different designs based on the ones I think will best suit our theme.”
Kallan gestured toward the pedestal. “If you’ll just strip down and hop on up, we can get started.”
Freya forced a smile and nodded. “Of course.”
Noticing her mood, Lea cleared her throat. “How about I call for some refreshments? A bit of wine might get the ideas flowing a bit more freely, don’t you think?” Without waiting for a response, she pulled the cord for the servant call bell beside Freya’s bed.
“That sounds like a lovely idea,” Ordona replied.
Bless her, Freya thought as she began tugging off her pants. By the time she’d stripped to her undergarments and stepped onto the pedestal, a bird-like female servant—Dina, Freya recalled—had arrived and been given an order for three bottles of wine and a charcuterie board of meats and cheeses.
Kallan had just finished retaking her measurements a short while later when Dina returned pushing a cart into the room.
“We can take it from here,” Ordona said. “Thank you, Dina.”
With a small curtsy, Dina left, and the queen began pouring glasses for everyone. When she handed Freya her glass, she arched a brow. “Once we’re using real fabric, the only liquid allowed in the room will be water. Understood?”
Smiling, Freya nodded. “Understood.”
“Now, I know you were thinking white for a dress,” Kallan began, looking at the queen. “But with Freya’s hair and coloring, I think unbleached silk might complement her a bit better.”
Ordona tsked. “I think we’d like to stick to something traditional, wouldn’t you, dear?”
Freya bit her lip and examined the pieces of fabric Kallan held out for them to inspect. While part of her wanted to agree with the queen about sticking with tradition, Freya’s eye kept being drawn toward the slightly darker, more neutral-looking shade that was sure to bring out the rose tones in her hair.
Recalling her discussion with Aer about breaking molds, Freya knew what her choice would be, but not wanting to shut Ordona’s opinion down entirely, she suggested trying both. “It’s really impossible to make a choice like that without seeing the full picture, don’t you think?” she asked.
“Agreed,” Lea said firmly. “The white might be a bit too stark a contrast against that hair, no?”
Ordona’s eyes slid between the two of them, then she sighed. “Alright, we can see them both.”
“Perfect!” Kallan laid out six sheets of blank design paper. “I’ve got a few different shapes and styles in mind, so let’s get started.”
Freya took another gulp of wine, then handed the glass to Rini, who set it down on the table. Once she’d fluttered back to Tyna’s side, she magicked a notebook and pencil from thin air and nodded at Kallan.
For the next several hours—days, in Freya’s mind—Kallan dressed and undressed her, sheathing her in one design after another, wrinkling his nose and shaking his head at some, nodding and making hums of approval at others. Now and then the queen would give a suggestion, and Freya quickly learned that her and Ordona’s ideas of what a wedding dress should look like varied quite a bit.
When Freya asked about a mermaid cut, Ordona sniffed and insisted a ballgown was more classic. Later, when Freya suggested a beading design similar to the one Kallan had put on the dress she’d worn to the Commencement Ball, with a fade of diamonds, the palest rose opal, and pearl, he’d drawn up the design, only for Ordona to say the design “should be more tasteful and elegant and less of a statement piece.”
Freya tried very hard to disagree as politely as she could, offering up the option of trying multiple patterns before deciding, but it was Rini and Lea who finally began to steer the discussion in the direction they could tell Freya wanted to go.
“I’ve been frequenting the city markets quite a bit in recent months,” Rini began. “A great many of the modern wedding gowns incorporate beading, very often in combination with the more traditional lace styles.”
“She’s right!” Lea said, clasping her hands together and beaming at the queen. “Oh, I saw one that was just so lovely that I’m considering a similar design for my own gown.”
Ordona sighed, eying Freya’s current ensemble—a mermaid silhouette in silk the color of sand, with beading that started at her left hip and burst out in swirls across her torso, breasts, and down her thighs. “What if we added a bit of lace or chiffon to this one? Perhaps a cream overlay?”
Freya and Lea exchanged a look, then Lea gave a small shrug.
Smiling at the queen, Freya nodded. “Alright, let’s see how it looks.” When she looked at Kallan to tell him to begin, the expression on his face told her he was about at his wits’ end. “I think after her majesty’s suggestions, this design might be the one to go with.”
“As a starting point, my lady,” he corrected, his small nose scrunching as he scrutinized the beading he’d just added. “This is the rough draft. We’ve several more to go before we have a final product.”
Freya blinked. “I—how many more fittings do you think there will be?”
Angling his head to the side, Kallan began to tick them off on his fingers. “Well, there’s this one, of course. Next will be for proper length, but before that, we need to choose footwear. My suggestion would be a flat style, but females these days often like a bit more height. Although with his highness’ height… well I do suppose it’s a matter of what you’re comfortable with, isn’t it? Then we’ll do another to properly fit the back against your wings, which will likely take a few hours, at least…”
As he continued to drone on, Freya smiled and nodded in what she thought were appropriate places, hoping Lea, Tyna, or Rini were taking notes.
; She was surprised some time later when she looked through her open veranda door and saw that the sun had begun to slide behind the mountains. A yawn sneaked its way up her throat too quickly for her to stifle, causing Rini, who’d just been comparing blush samples to the beadwork on her dress, to pause.
“Oh, my lady, you must be exhausted,” she lamented, tucking her palette into the tool belt at her waist. “We should stop for the day, don’t you think, Your Majesty?”
Ordona frowned from her place a few feet away from Freya, her finger resting on her jaw as she watched Kallan work, her expression telling Freya she’d stay there the rest of the night if possible.
“Yes, I suppose we could all do with a bit of dinner and rest.” She let out a heavy breath and smiled tiredly at Freya. “You’ve been a real champion about this, dear. I know how hard it is, being poked and tugged at for so long.”
Kallan transferred the final version of the design onto a piece of paper, then stacked it on top of the other versions that had variations in beadwork and cut. He smiled at them both, his eyes a bit less bright than they’d been that morning, no doubt due to exhaustion.
“Quite right, Your Majesty. I’ll work on the overall design, then once that’s set, we’ll get to work on properly fitting the back.”
Freya’s eyes widened slightly in Lea’s direction at that. Lea shrugged. “Perhaps next time we’ll switch from wine to mead. I think Aer said several casks of apple mead just came in from Dystone last week.”
Rini let out a noise that sounded a bit like squeak mixed with a snort. “You’ll need a bit more than that, my lady. I know Kallan, and he’ll have you extend and retract your wings twenty times before the day is over.”
Freya couldn’t hold back her grimace at that.
“It will all be worth it in the end, my lady.” Kallan gave her a reassuring smile and began packing away his tools in a small leather case.
“I don’t doubt it,” she murmured, stepping off the pedestal and accepting a robe from Lea. As she shrugged it on, she smiled at the queen. “Thank you for all of your input, Your Majesty. It was nice to have you here to share this with me.”
The queen pulled her into a hug. “I’ve waited for this day for a long time, Freya,” she whispered. “I’m sorry if that’s made me a bit over-opinionated.”
Laughing, Freya hugged her tighter. “I wouldn’t ask for it to be any other way, I promise.”
And despite how tiring, and at times, irritating the day had been, Freya meant it with all her heart.
Chapter 32
The next month slipped by in a blur of classes, fittings, discussions of wedding details, and time with her friends. Most days at the palace were spent with the king and queen discussing what her duties would be once she and Aer were crowned, meeting visitors, or working out details of their wedding. Later, after the palace had gone silent, Freya and Aer would often spend hours traipsing through the tunnels in search of new passageways or chambers, careful to avoid the notice of anyone who might report their movements back to Byrric. When Freya had expressed her concern over her father barring them from the tunnels, Aer had simply laughed and reminded her that he was the prince and therefore outranked her father by quite a good deal. It was one of the few times he pulled rank as a royal, but Freya couldn’t say she minded.
They’d been unable to find anything more about the human they’d scented in the garden passageway, and as nearly two months had passed since, they’d set that curiosity aside for other, more readily available things.
More enjoyable, though, were the times he would pull her close when they laid down to sleep, kissing her silly late into the night. They’d spend their time getting to know one another in ways Freya hadn’t expected so soon, and despite what she—and Aer, although he refused to outright say it—wanted, they’d agreed to wait until their wedding night to cross the final line.
While intimacy before marriage was hardly frowned upon in their world, Freya knew exactly what was expected of them. She’d also heard plenty of rumors about maids checking bedsheets the morning after weddings in an attempt to confirm the wife’s virginal status, the mere thought of which made Freya’s lip curl in annoyance. Busybodies had always been one of her greatest peeves, but as queen, she knew she’d have to put up with things like that and much worse.
When she’d griped about it to Lea one afternoon while they had tea by the lake, Lea’s only response was, “If you become pregnant on your wedding night or shortly after, the last thing you want is someone questioning whether the child is Aer’s or not. Physical proof of your virginity is the only thing that will keep that from happening.”
Freya considered pointing out it would be simple enough to forge said evidence, but considering how many secret passages wound through the palace walls, it would also be very simple for someone to catch her in the act of doing so.
So for now, they settled for enjoying one another in other ways. And, if Freya was being honest with herself, just waking up beside her prince each morning gave her more flutters in her belly than she cared to deal with. The utterly girlish nature of her feelings made her feel more than a little odd, but she also thanked her lucky stars that she had them at all.
When she traveled to the palace for her third dress fitting, she was surprised when she touched down in the yard to find Salazar himself waiting for her. He wore a white tunic under a tan suede vest, with dark brown pants and suede boots. His black hair was tied back at his nape, giving him an unexpectedly casual appearance.
“Good morning, Your Majesty,” she said with a small curtsy.
“Freya,” he said with a nod. “Before my son whisks you off, I was hoping we might have a word.”
“Of course.” She retracted her wings and waved goodbye to Lea, Laz, and Collin, who’d just pulled in behind her and would be spending the weekend at the palace, then silently followed the king through the palace to his personal quarters. In the rear was the area where he conducted most of his personal business dealings—those he didn’t care to share with those outside of his immediate circle.
That he was leading Freya there made her instantly wary.
He gestured toward a chair in front of his desk before settling himself behind it. It was wide, likely five feet of space sat between them caused by the broad surface of the desk alone. Legs carved from Allanorian oak in the shape of Lynx rearing up on their hind legs, paws held aloft, held the heavy top up. A smaller man, one who didn’t wear Salazar’s power or his shifted form as boldly as he did, would’ve been swallowed up by the massive and ornate piece of furniture.
Once she sat, he folded his hands on the desk and smiled. It was a soft smile, very similar to Aer’s, only with a slightly harder edge. Again, she was struck by how much Aer had grown to resemble him. The king’s face was slightly more aged, although not nearly as aged as Professor Florian’s. Soft lines formed at the corners of the king’s eyes when he was amused, and the scruff of his beard showed just a touch of gray near his temples, easily belying his age, which Freya put at about four hundred. Everything else—the sharp cut of his jaw, the dark, wavy hair, and the wide brown eyes all perfectly reflected those of his son. His harsher temperament and the cool indifference he often exuded were where their similarities ended, as Aer had gotten his warmth largely from Ordona.
“So, Freya. How have you been getting on now that you’ve been spending more time here?”
Freya let out a quiet breath as she turned over appropriate responses in her mind. It was such a simple question, but one that, if answered incorrectly, could cause her a good deal of annoyance. If she gushed about how much she loved being in the palace, he might revisit her living arrangement. If she did the same regarding Aldridge, the outcome would likely be similar. Despite how much she’d come to enjoy her time at the palace, she wasn’t quite ready to be away from the rest of civilization just yet.
“I feel as though I’ve found a good balance, at least for the time being,” she replied cautiously. “I enjoy gett
ing to know the students there while also easing myself into life at the palace. I’ve formed good relationships at Aldridge that are both pleasant and could potentially be beneficial in the future.”
“How so?”
“I’ve become close with Lea, Lazarus, and Collin, as you know. Myria Bryton and I seem to be getting on a bit better than when we first met. I understand her mother is a friend of the queen’s, so an amicable relationship with her daughter will likely make dealings with Governor Bryton a bit smoother. I’ve acquainted myself with several lords and ladies of various social strata, all of whom have taught me a good deal about how the areas of society outside those I’m already familiar with function. It’s been quite an illuminating experience, to be honest.”
“And would you consider these individuals your friends?”
Another loaded question.
“If I were not becoming queen, the answer to that would likely be simple—yes, I think I could consider them friends, or acquaintances at the very least. As it stands, I believe I must be wary of all individuals who hope to befriend me, both now and in the future. I consider myself a good judge of character, Your Majesty, but even still, I’m always deliberate in my words and actions.”
“There are no exceptions to this rule you’ve written for yourself?”
“None,” she said firmly. “Even now, speaking with you, I’m weighing every word as carefully as I can.”
He angled his head and eyed her curiously. There was a glint of something there, something he was about to let slip that Freya was certain would cause her hassle.
“What about Lord Edrin? Are you careful with your words and actions regarding him?”
She didn’t bother hiding her surprise at such a shift. “Of course, Your Majesty. There isn’t any need to doubt my caution around someone I know so little about.”
“Hmm.” He leaned back and steepled his fingers in front of his lips. “He seems to believe you’re reluctant to become queen. Do you have any thoughts as to why he might think that?”