Chapter 13
Chapter thirteen
Trumpets blared, their sound rich and amplified by enchantments, as a herald announced each noble guest.
Nin stood with the royal family to personally greet each of them.
Two lines of guards formed a path to the steps, where they stood before tall white doors veined with thin lines of gold.
She lost track of how many curtsies and polite greetings she had uttered as more than a dozen carriages crunched over pale gravel.
“Her Serene Highness, Princess Adelina von Reventlow of Ehrenmark, attending in representation on behalf of their Majesties, the King and Queen of Ehrenmark!” the herald proclaimed when a golden carriage adorned with a raven emblem drew to a halt.
Princess Marianne’s cousin alighted with effortless grace.
Adelina’s dazzling green eyes matched her mint gown sweeping over the steps.
A soft, white feather perched in her chestnut hair curled into an immaculate updo.
An array of matching jewels and pearls decorated her delicate neck and gloved hands.
Attendants trailed after her, followed by her royal advisor and ambassador, Otto Friedrich Dennhardt.
He wore a pressed navy suit and a smile that Nin wasn’t prepared for.
From his portrait, she had thought him stiff and unapproachable, but his blue eyes were warmed by a kindness that disarmed her.
Adelina approached and curtsied. “Thank you for having me, Your Majesties. My parents regret their absence and send their warm regards. They have sent me on behalf of my family and Ehrenmark’s interests.”
The king nodded, “We understand they cannot abandon their duties and accept their regards, and their honorable representative.”
Adelina curtsied, then, turning to Nin, she added, “My dearest cousin! It is so wonderful to see you again. I was growing worried about the news of your illness. I would hate to think the pressures of your duties have become too burdensome for you.”
Nin fought the frown that tempted her lips. She didn’t like the subtle jab hidden in those words. She had thought Princess Marianne and Adelina were close, yet there was something malicious beneath Adelina’s tone she couldn’t quite put a name to.
The next morning, Cedric advised her to invite Princess Adelina to accompany her on a walk in the gardens.
“It’s what Princess Marianne would do,” he had said.
So, Nin found herself strolling in awkward silence with her “cousin”. Adelina’s attendant walked behind with Otto, while Lucille lingered further back. It was a beautiful morning, lit with soft, golden light and blooming roses, completely at odds with the strange tension buzzing between them.
“It’s been far too long since you’ve written to me,” Adelina said, tilting her blush parasol. The color matched the roses embroidered on her cream skirt, flowing delicately around her matching slippers. “How are your singing lessons going?”
Nin hesitated. Princess Marianne was renowned for her pure quality of voice, but unfortunately, Nin was not. It was best to avoid any public demonstrations of her sad bleating.
“They’ve had to pause since my illness,” she said carefully.
“Oh, posh!” Adelina said with a dismissive wave. “There’s no way an illness could stop you. I’m the reason you even took up singing, do you recall? If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be where you are now.”
Nin forced a polite smile that failed to reach her eyes. She noted the way Adelina claimed credit for the princess’s accomplishments.
The crunching gravel beneath their heels punctuated the silence, and the swaying branches above cast shadows over their steps.
“But I suppose any talent might overwhelm someone with delicate sensitivities,” Adelina continued in the same sweet, needling way.
“I’ll manage somehow,” Nin said, keeping her tone pleasant.
“As you always do,” Adelina said, glancing at her with a faint smirk. “With help.”
Nin’s stomach tightened. Frustration crept hot up her throat, but she steeled herself. Was this what close relationships among royals looked like? If so, she did not envy them.
Footsteps, measured and unhurried, sounded over the stone pathway. From the corner of her eye, she spied a head of dark hair and rich, chocolate eyes.
Prince Rodrigue approached with his signature smile—warm, affectionate—and Nin gulped in response.
Her heart gave a panicked lurch. It had been a few days since she had last seen him at dinner, but their meetings had been brief, restricted, and closely monitored.
She had secretly thanked the Maker that she didn’t have to keep up the charade as his beloved often.
Her stomach clenched whenever he directed a fond glance or a tender smile her way.
The pretense she was forced to uphold prickled her spine.
Something glistened in Nin’s peripheral vision. She glimpsed a spark of envy flashing in Adelina’s eyes, but it vanished the moment Rodrigue stopped before them.
“I was looking for you, Princess Marianne,” he said to Nin, his voice dipping softly. Then, noticing Adelina at her side, he bowed his head politely. “Forgive me—it’s good to see you as well, Princess Adelina.”
Adelina’s smile turned coy as she twirled her lacy parasol over her shoulder. “It is a delight to see you again. Why don’t you join us?”
Nin inwardly groaned. The invitation left little room for Prince Rodrigue to politely object.
“Only for a little while,” he said, his focus drifting back to Nin. “I wanted to see my intended before I was called away.”
Nin’s cheeks warmed despite herself. Intended.
The word sank to the pit of her stomach.
For a moment, she didn’t know where to look and settled for the ground.
Yet she sensed with that same prickling awareness that Adelina was assessing her with narrow eyes again.
Was it jealousy, or did Adelina suspect she was not the true princess?
Nin’s training snapped into place, her posture relaxing into the graceful stance Cedric had drilled into her. It all happened in a matter of moments, but relief flooded her veins when her “cousin” gestured to the path with a delicate cream-gloved hand.
“Wonderful! I am so pleased you can join us,” Adelina said, directing her pleasantry toward the prince.
“The pleasure is mine,” Rodrigue said with a slight bow. He made to move in Nin’s direction, but a wall of cream skirts blocked his path.
Adelina stepped in so seamlessly and unexpectedly that Nin barely registered how the princess had wedged herself between the betrothed couple. The parasol resting over Adelina’s shoulder swung when she settled beside Rodrigue, its narrow point skimmed the precarious space above Nin’s nose.
Nin leaned back instinctively, forcing herself not to flinch.
“Then let us be off,” Adelina said, beaming up at Rodrigue.
The princess’s skirts swayed like the ebb and flow of a tide, and with each step, the silk brushed against Rodrigue’s leg.
Nin pressed her lips together, effortlessly keeping up with Adelina’s subtle but swift pace.
The sound of footsteps trailed behind them, and Nin almost forgot their chaperones were watching.
She peered over her shoulder and caught Ambassador Otto’s frown.
Perhaps he was not impressed by the princess’s behavior as much as she was.
“You are such a kind gentleman,” Adelina said as they strolled past a pond where a small waterfall splashed gently over glossy stone. The bubbling sound entwined with the birdsong in the treetops.
Rodrigue chuckled, the sound slightly strained to Nin’s ear, “Thank you, however I do not know what inspired your compliment.”
Adelina paused near the pond’s edge, her eyes dancing with mirth. “It’s because a memory came to me suddenly. Do you remember when we were children—I think ten years old, was it? We were chasing each other around this path, and Princess Marianne fell into the fountain?”
Rodrigue gave a half-hearted laugh. “Yes—and I pulled her out.”
“It was quite the sight,” Adelina said with a tinkling laugh. “She was sopping wet, and she nearly tripped again. She resembled a miserable fish!”
Adelina playfully swatted Prince Rodrigue’s arm, and he offered a hesitant smile in return.
Nin bit her tongue, barring the sharp replies she wished to let loose.
These weren’t her memories, nor was the space between them, it seemed, yet annoyance pricked beneath her skin.
How could Adelina talk about the princess as if she weren’t present?
Nin even knew, rules of etiquette aside, that her behavior was rude among the common folk.
Protocol also dictated that she navigate these circumstances with grace—a feat Nin found increasingly challenging as they continued past tall hedges.
She laughed or added a comment when required, but a quiet suspicion began to coil within her.
Perhaps there was more to Princess Marianne’s relationship with her cousin than Cedric had disclosed…
Or perhaps he hadn’t seen it at all.
The next evening, nobles, dignitaries, and visiting princes filled the glittering parlor, their cordial chatter and clinking glasses a soft murmur against the music flitting in the air.
Dozens of settees, chaises, and chairs faced the front of the room where a grand harpsichord and golden harp stood for tonight’s entertainment.
The gilded, paneled walls reflected the soft glow of candles wavering in candelabras.
One by one, a nobleman or noblewoman was recommended personally by someone of higher rank to play before the court.
Nin sat on one of the cream-striped settees, attempting but failing to focus on the performers when the queen sat beside her.
Occasionally, the queen would glance in her direction and whisper an approving remark on the performance.
Prince Rodrigue stood near the hearth across the room, holding a glass of wine and laughing at something another prince said.
Too many eyes would be on her if she made one wrong move.