Chapter Seventeen
Today was the day of her second wedding, and this time she didn’t even have her father or aunt present to help her.
Margarite was her only friend, and she was a paid servant.
Frustrated by her lack of language skills, she asked Margarite to repeat common phrases to her over and over while she dressed, in order to learn some basics.
She knew she was bad at reading and writing, but learning things by ear had been one of her few talents.
Margarite was so cheerful and amiable that she didn’t even mind repeating things a hundred times.
Before moving into the palace, Margarite had lived in a huge family, with lots of elderly grandparents, children, and grandchildren all living under one roof, so she had the patience of a saint.
Selina adored the sound of her home life, which sounded full of warmth and joy, she envied her.
‘You look beautiful, Ma’am,’ Margarite said as she adjusted the sapphire-and-diamond crown on her head. It was made of silver and had charms hanging from it that made light merry sounds every time she turned her head.
It was called a Kransen, a traditional crown of Scandinavian brides.
Margarite had explained that most brides wore a simpler version, often a wreath made with flowers or woven ribbons, but that the charms and the sounds they made were important to ward off evil spirits.
Selina’s was a far more elaborate version of a charming folk tradition.
The jewels didn’t end with the crown either. Sapphires and diamonds sparkled at her neck, ears, and wrists. She’d never worn so much expensive jewellery before, and she was half-afraid of losing them and had even asked Margarite to double-check the clasps each time a new piece was added.
‘Thank you. People won’t think it strange that I’m in traditional Thrudheim dress will they—considering I’m British?’ Selina asked nervously.
Margarite immediately shook her head. ‘All royal brides of Thrudheim wear this, regardless of the origin of their birth.’
Selina smiled, smoothing down the lambswool skirt; everything was heavily embroidered with silk or silver thread.
Even the white linen dress beneath was heavily embroidered around the cuffs and round neckline, the sleeves full and billowing out from the shoulders.
The square bodice of the navy woollen dress had a silver wolf’s-head embroidered on the front panel, with matching panels of embroidered silk on the hem and down the front of the billowing skirts.
A heavily embroidered sapphire silk sash was pinned with a jewelled brooch from shoulder to hip, which reminded her of the belted sash Magnus sometimes wore.
‘Thank you,’ Selina smiled in the full-length gilt mirror. ‘Gosh, it’s surprisingly heavy, isn’t it?’ She chuckled at Margarite’s sympathetic nod. ‘And I usually prefer warmer tones, but the blue and silver work well together.’
Margarite nodded. ‘They are the colours of Thrudheim. Our flag is sapphire blue with a white roaring wolf’s-head. The silver reflects the precious metals of our mines, the white is the purity of our brave hearts, and the blue is the sea that surrounds us.’
Selina bit her lip, as she remembered her meeting with the court ladies yesterday. ‘Prince Magnus is very honourable… He didn’t have to marry me. Do you think the people really will hate me for it?’
Margarite shook her head, but was avoiding her gaze. ‘The common people understand. They understand far better than most.’
She’d not mentioned the aristocrats, Selina’s harshest critics on both sides of the sea. But she took comfort in how Magnus had stood up for her the previous day.
A knock on the door announced that it was time for her to leave, and after a grateful pat to Margarite’s arm she left to get married for the second time.
Magnus was waiting for her by the palace doors.
Dressed in an impressive traditional costume that made him look like the king of pirates, with the embroidered sapphire sash around his narrow hips, and his boxy blue jacket covered in silver tassels.
White slim-fitting trousers and knee-high boots completed his outfit, a tricorn hat—similar to her father’s in style—sat on his head.
He didn’t wear a sword this time, but he was still every inch the dashing prince.
He took her hand in his; they both wore gloves, although hers were ivory lace, and she could feel the warmth of him through the fabric.
‘You look beautiful, Your Serene Highness,’ he said, but his tone was formal and polite.
‘I do?’ She searched his impenetrable expression for the truth of his feelings, which always seemed so firmly kept in check.
Yesterday was the first time she’d seen extreme emotion from him, and it had been in anger.
She shivered, not from fear, but from the thrill of having such an impressive man defend her so vehemently.
Would Mr Chadwick have charged into a room to slay her enemies? The thought was laughable!
Magnus’s face softened, his blue eyes piercing her soul with their intensity. ‘Yes, Selina, you do.’
The words were hushed and intimate compared to the moment before, and she couldn’t help the heat of the blush that crept up her cheeks.
The doors opened, and they walked into the courtyard, a line of palace servants dipping respectfully as they made their way to the royal carriage. A low hum filled her ears as they approached the carriage steps and the awaiting coachmen.
As she stepped inside and saw the gates behind the carriage windows, she realised the cause of the strange hum.
A massive crowd had gathered on the other side of the gates, and they were waving the blue-and-white wolf of Thrudheim.
She peeked behind the fringed silk curtain, and cheers roared up into the cloudless sky.
She fiddled with the window, but couldn’t get it to open.
Magnus reached across her and opened the latch that allowed the window to drop down, and she gave him a grateful smile.
‘I am so glad I’m not doing this alone,’ she said as the carriage rolled smoothly forward and then turned to glide through the now-open gates.
‘We are already married. This ceremony is simply a blessing in a church for tradition’s sake.
’ His words were dismissive, but she wondered if Prince Magnus were far kinder than he appeared.
Had he realised she wouldn’t want to travel to the ceremony alone?
Or was it simply easier to travel together?
Before she might have dismissed it as a logical practicality. But what with his help with her reading and the incident with the court ladies, she was beginning to hope she had found a friend after all. A most unexpected one, who unfortunately made her heart flutter whenever she looked at him.
They drove slowly through the streets, winding down from the magnificent white palace to the centre of Old Thrudheim.
The elegant pastel houses and shops shifted to medieval buildings of stone and timber, some so ancient they looked as if they were swaying in the breeze.
It reminded her of the tight medieval streets of York and the Tudor houses in Stratford-upon-Avon, which she’d visited on a tour with Lady Anne last year.
The roads through this part of the city were uneven, and the carriage slowed down to a crawl to avoid bumps and dips in the cobbles.
People were leaning out of open windows and lining the pavements.
She waved at them and was rewarded with cheers and shouts of goodwill.
Alpine flowers were thrown beneath the wheels of the carriage, perfuming the air with a delicate floral scent.
Magnus did the same, although his waves were regal, using only a slight tilt of his wrist. He looked far more elegant than she did, but she wasn’t sure if she could pull off such a small gesture without looking a fool.
The carriage began to sweep around in an arc, and she realised they’d arrived at the church which was cleared of people and guarded by men in military uniform. She was handed down from the carriage by the footman, with Magnus following close behind.
The church in front of her was smaller than a cathedral, but still magnificent. ‘Oh!’ she gasped, turning to Magnus. ‘When you said it was a wooden church, I never imagined this!’
Magnus smiled proudly. ‘It was built seven hundred years ago, made entirely from pine staves and vertical posts. The carvings are intricate and beautiful—they reflect the combination of our Viking ancestry and the blending of Christianity at that time.’
‘It looks so pretty.’ The building was a dark nutty-brown, presumably stained through old age.
It had three pyramid tiers stacked on top of one another and was covered in an intricate lattice of boards creating a sea of diamonds around its walls and peaked roof.
There were a few windows, all small and mostly in the bell-tower at the top.
The graveyard around it was also old, with well-weathered gravestones that faced the rooftops of the harbour buildings below and the turquoise sea in the distance.
Magnus took her arm and led her into the church, where they were greeted by a delightful clergyman who appeared ecstatic to welcome them.
The posts, altar, beams, and ceiling were all decorated with beautiful carvings that ranged from twisted runic knots and serpents, to Christian symbolism with crosses and iconography.
But she didn’t have time to admire them as the church was full of the aristocratic and wealthy families of Thrudheim, who were all staring at them expectantly.