Alexander bowed. “Then I shall leave you so that I may prepare for my departure.”
As he strode away, almost running in his haste, I looked up at Oliver. “Something is going on over there. I just hope it doesn’t have anything to do with Sterling.”
He pulled me into a tight hug. “No, I’m sure it does not. But even if it does, we can trust Alexander to sort things out. I’ve spent some time with him these last weeks while all of you ladies were busy with planning. He’s the type you can rely on. And his loyalty to King George was absolute.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, sinking against him. “I hope you’re right.” I stiffened at a sudden thought. “Wedding planning! The betrothal banquet! I had forgotten all about it.”
“I hadn’t,” he said. “Not with you wearing that dress.”
I smiled, relaxing a little. “It is rather magnificent, isn’t it?” I surveyed his plain clothes and wrinkled my nose. “You, on the other hand, are far from ready.”
“My apologies, my lady,” he said, laughing down at me, “I would never want to disappoint you.”
I shook my head. “Enough of that. You go and get ready. If you’re going to marry me, then you’ll need to learn how to make a good entrance at my side.”
“With you at my side, no one will be looking at me,” he said.
And I could hardly send him away without a kiss after that. Which I somehow suspected had been his intention all along.
Note from the Author
To find out why Snow can’t attend Celine’s wedding—and what Alexander intends to do about it—read Snow’s story in A Dream of Ebony and White: A Retelling of Snow White. Turn the page for a sneak peek!
Or, if you missed it, discover how Celine’s older brothers found love in The Princess Search: A Retelling of the Ugly Duckling, the fifth and final book in The Four Kingdoms series.
To be kept informed of my new releases, please sign up to my mailing list at www.melaniecellier.com. At my website, you’ll also find an array of free extra content, including a bonus epilogue to A Tale of Beauty and Beast that leads into the story of Eldon, and a bonus epilogue to A Crown of Snow and Ice that gives a glimpse of the Lanoverian family reunion at Celine’s wedding.
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Chapter 1
Skin as white as snow. Lips as red as blood. Hair as black as ebony. I stared at myself in the mirror. It was no wonder my father had given me the name Blanche. Or that my friends called me Snow—and envied the perfect, symmetrical features that I had apparently inherited from my mother. The ones that everyone said made my face so beautiful. Surely a godmother must have blessed me while I was in my mother’s womb, they said. Even though no godmother had been in these lands giving out gifts at the time of my birth.
My father had always said I was even more beautiful than my mother. As if no greater compliment could be given. Not that I would know since I had never seen her. Her desperate dream for a child had been her undoing.
A ripple ran across my so-called perfect features.
Ebony was hard and strong. Snow was cold and unforgiving. And blood…well, blood was passion and power. Were those the things my mother had hoped for her daughter when she made her fateful wish?
If so, then she had failed. I was none of those things.
The crash of breaking porcelain made me spin, startled from my useless reverie. It took a moment to recognize the missing piece from my dressing table. A particularly ugly dust collector that I had always hated.
My eyes flitted back to the mirror for a brief second, my lips twisting. A perfect example of my weakness. I was a princess, and yet I couldn’t even bring myself to send away a decoration I disliked. From my own room, no less. Easier to just let things be. To let my life be ordered for me.
The maid had made no move to collect the broken pieces, seemingly frozen in place, her duster in hand, and her eyes wide. I crossed over to her.
“There’s no need for concern, Gertie. In truth I’ve never liked that piece anyway.”
None of the horror dropped from her face, and I frowned. Gertie had been one of my maids for years, and I was hardly an object of fear to any of them.
“Truly, Gertie, you don’t need to worry. I’m not angry.”
“No…no, Your Highness.” She made a visible effort to pull herself together. “Only, do you think it was worth a lot of money?” She whispered the last words.
My brows knit together. “I have no idea. But what does it matter? As I said, I never liked it. I won’t bother to replace it.”
Her eyes flew to mine. “But we got the new orders just this morning, Your Highness. And the steward had them from Her Majesty herself. Any breakages are to come from our wages.”
My eyes narrowed. The queen. My stepmother. Issuing new orders for the staff already, although only one night had passed since my father’s funeral. Had she no respect?
I sighed. Of course she had not. That was hardly a surprise. And who did I expect her to have respect for? Me? The thought almost made me laugh.
“Well, then,” I said, after the awkward pause dragged on too long, “we must clean up the pieces and hide them somewhere. I certainly won’t report it broken.”
“Oh!” Gertie looked at me, her face transforming. “Are you sure, Your Highness?” I could see a new worry in the back of her eyes. This one was for me—although it was less pressing than the worry on her own behalf had been. I tried to keep my face from twisting. Even my maids knew that I never stood up to my stepmother.
I forced my back to straighten, my tone strengthening. “Of course I am sure.”
Gertie didn’t quibble further, cleaning up the mess with careful fingers, making sure not a single shard remained behind as evidence. When I tried to assist, she waved me away, so I had nothing to do but watch her wrap it in layer after layer of paper.
“If anyone notices and asks,” I said. “I’ll tell them I broke it myself.”
Gertie gave me a tentative smile. “That’s right kind of you, Your Highness. I’m so sorry…” Her words trailed away before she seemed to grasp some courage. “I’m sorry about your father. He was a good king, and a kind man.”
“Yes, he was.” I turned away, not willing for her to see how easily the tears welled in my eyes.
“And now that he’s gone, I suppose you…” This time when her words failed, no courage came to finish the sentence.
I kept my face averted, silent. I didn’t need to hear the words to know what she meant to say. And the hope behind the sentiment cut at me.
My father, the king, had died. And I was his only child. So didn’t that make me queen? But for all her hope, I noticed she still addressed me as Your Highness while she called my stepmother Her Majesty. And why should a lowly maid have the courage that an entire court lacked? I had barely heard much in the last week, the fog of grief cocooning me from the ordinary sounds of life. But I knew I would have noticed that. Not a single person had called me queen.
A knock, followed immediately by the sound of an opening door, made me startle again. I silently berated myself. I was a princess in my own chambers. If I couldn’t feel secure here, there was no place for me anywhere.
A footman entered, his face impassive. Gertie stepped back, her hands tightening around the parcel she still held. But the man didn’t even glance her way, his eyes on me.
“Princess Blanche. Her Majesty requests your presence in the throne room.”
He waited, as if expecting an answer, and I wondered how he would react if I refused the ‘request’. But I shook off the thought long before the words could rise to my lips. It wasn’t really a request, and I knew it.
“Very well,” I said at last, inclining my head. “I will be along shortly.”
I squashed the fleeting pleasure that filled me at my small act of defiance. I was no longer a child, and such childish games were beneath me.
“I must wear a state gown,” I said to Gertie, and she nodded quickly, carefully depositing her burden before dashing across to my wardrobe. For a moment I considered directing her choice but found I couldn’t muster the energy to care. I would dress properly in respect for my father and defiance of my stepmother. But I couldn’t bring myself to have an opinion on the dress itself.
In all too short a time, I faced the long corridor to the throne room. Our castle was old, the dark gray stone worn from the passage of so many years. I had always found it comforting, an old friend even if it was less beautiful than the palaces of some of my friends. But in the last week it had turned hard and cold. I felt the weight of it pressing down on me, the stone cold and unrelenting. I shivered.
A flicker of movement to one side caught my attention, and a tall man stepped into the corridor ahead of me. I called a glad welcome and hurried my steps, but he didn’t meet my eyes.
Instead, he dropped to one knee, his fist clasped against his heart. “Your Majesty.”
My eyes widened, and I looked around to see if anyone else was near. Thankfully we were alone.
“What are you doing, Alex? Get up!” I hissed the words, not wanting to draw further attention if someone should happen upon us.
Alexander looked up and met my eyes for the first time. His own were a darker gray than I remembered, storm clouds brewing in their depths. Slowly he rose to his feet, his tall frame towering over me.
“But I heard that your father…” He shook his head. “I raced home from Eldon as fast as my poor mount could ride.”
The ready tears rushed forward, but I willed them away. I didn’t have time for crying.
“Yes. Father is dead. His funeral was yesterday. I’m so sorry you missed it, Alex. He would have wanted you there.”
Pain passed across his features. “I am sorry for your loss, Your Highness.”
I shook my head, exasperated as always at his refusal to use my name. “Both of our loss, you mean. I know you loved him like a father yourself.”
He looked down. “It is not my place. I am only a huntsman. Remember, Your Highness?”
I sighed and drew closer to him. Anyone else might have supposed his emphasis suggested resentment, but I knew better. He was always trying to remind me of the difference in our stations. But I had just lost the only parent I had ever known, and I wished that for once he would forget I was a princess and embrace me as he used to do when we were both children.
“Yes, only a huntsman.” I stood so close now that he would normally have backed away, but he didn’t move, and it gave me hope. “The most skilled of all the royal huntsmen. Son of the old head huntsman. Protege of the old king himself.”
My voice hitched at the word ‘old’ in reference to my father, and with a sound half-sigh, half-groan, Alexander folded me into his arms. I rested my head against his chest and felt myself relax for the first time since I had seen my father breathe his last.
Being near Alexander again felt almost like being near my father. My father had spent so much time on the hunt—the woods his favorite escape. And always with the head huntsman by his side. I knew that in their hearts, the two had viewed themselves like brothers, despite the vast difference in their stations. And, of course, always with Alexander and me trailing behind.
How many times had I seen the warm glow of pride in my father’s eyes as they rested on Alexander—the son he never had? I might have been jealous if I hadn’t known how much my father loved me too. He hated to be parted from me and let me run wild as a child, despite those in court who chided him for it. He had apologized once that I had no close friends among the other noble girls. That I spent my time with an “old man” as he put it, instead of with children my own age. But I had told him that I didn’t want to be away from him. And besides, I had Alexander. At that he had laughed and thrown me high into the air until I was laughing as well, so hard I could barely breathe.
My insides tightened at the memory until I once again struggled to breathe, but this time for a different reason. I leaned more heavily into Alexander.
Neither of us spoke because there were no words. But I drew comfort and strength from his presence and his strong arms. I could have stayed wrapped up in them forever. But all too soon, he drew back, putting me firmly away from him.
“I saw many in the court moving toward the throne room.” He looked down at me. “Are you to hold court already?”
I shook my head, my eyes darting around once more. I lowered my voice.
“No, of course not! And you must stop saying such things. It is not I who rule in Eliam, as you very well know.”
His eyes narrowed, his hands balling into fists. “But your father is dead. You are—”
“Shush!” I cut him off. “I have been summoned along with the court, but if you think my stepmother intends to bow me up to the throne you must have run mad in your weeks in Eldon.” I glared at him, although I knew he wasn’t the one who deserved my ire.
It was my father who had sent him on the mission to our northern neighbor of Eldon, and my stepmother no doubt who had put him up to it. Badgering a dying man until he sent away someone he regarded almost as a son. Queen Alida had never liked anyone who proved themselves more loyal to King George than to herself, and Alexander had never bothered to hide his disdain for her.
A new worry gripped me, overwhelming the relief and joy I had felt at his presence. I looked at him sharply.
“I have no doubt you’ll worm your way into the back of the throne room. You must promise me that if she asks for some sign of loyalty you will give it.”
“Never.” He ground the word out between gritted teeth. “I endured her for the sake of the king, but I will never—”
I cut him off again, leaning forward to grip his jacket in both hands. “You must promise me, Alexander! Who knows what she will do to you if you do not? You cannot leave me alone here.”
My final words stilled the protest that had been building in his face. He frowned down at me while the storm in his eyes grew wilder.
“You must promise me,” I repeated again.
I could feel his capitulation before he spoke it, his whole body slumping in defeat.
“Very well, Your Majesty. I shall do as you wish.” Defiance glinted in his eyes. “I shall always obey the commands of my queen.”
Reluctantly I let him go and stepped around him to continue toward the throne room. “If that were true, you would call me Snow, like you used to when we were children. I’m sure I’ve asked often enough.” I glanced back over my shoulder and caught a glint in his eyes. “Now go, before someone sees you. And, remember—you promised!”
He bowed low before disappearing down a side corridor. I sighed and walked the last few steps with a heart both heavier and lighter than it had been before.
Alexander had returned. I was no longer alone.
Alexander had returned. I had a new fear to add to the weight that already crippled me.
My heart skipped and then sped up when I rounded a corner and approached the small royal reception room that led into the back of the throne room. A forbidding and all-too-familiar figure stood guard. Randolph—now head of my stepmother’s personal guard.
His black eyes accused me, and I had to restrain myself from glancing over my shoulder. I knew Alexander was long gone, and there was no way Randolph could have seen us from here.
I had never liked the man—he seemed always to be waiting for me to make a fatal mistake—but I had positively loathed him ever since he tried to intervene in the Princess Tourney over a year ago. He had been trying to cheat to ensure I won.
In a competition where the ‘reward’ was marriage to a c
ursed monster. I knew my stepmother had put him up to it, although he denied it later. She would have loved nothing so much as seeing me forced to marry a prince who would take me far from Eliam. It would have solved all her problems to have me safely gone before my father’s death. No matter how monstrous my groom might be.
Randolph hadn’t succeeded, of course. It had been stupid, really, for him to think he could circumvent the powerful magic of the Tourney using such clumsy methods. And he had been arrested for it. I had even heard news later that he had succumbed in prison to a deadly illness, the consequence of crossing the magic of the Tourney.
Only then the Tourney had been destroyed. And apparently its magic with it, since he made a miraculous recovery. But still he remained in prison in Marin, and for six beautiful months I had been freed his presence here in my home.
But somehow my stepmother had negotiated his release. I had lacked the courage to question her on how she managed it. And my father’s health had become so precarious at that point, that I dared not raise it with him. At least the queen had waited for his death to officially promote her favorite lackey to head of her guard. She must have known my father wouldn’t tolerate his presence anywhere near their elaborate shared suite.
Randolph bowed to me as he opened the door, the action at odds with the threat in his eyes.
“Your Highness,” he murmured as I sailed past, but I ignored him, keeping my gaze firmly ahead.
I had expected my stepmother to be awaiting me in the reception room, but it stood empty. Reluctantly I glanced back at Randolph, and he gestured toward the closed door that opened onto one side of the dais that held the thrones. So she had already begun without me. Why was I surprised?
Drawing a deep breath, I opened the door and strode through, my heavy skirts rustling around me.
Read on in A Dream of Ebony and White
Acknowledgments
Beyond the Four Kingdoms Box Set 1 Page 83