Chapter Eighteen
The grand ballroom of the palace was a huge space that had been built on the foundations of the Viking-age hall, once the home of the kings and queens of Thrudheim.
As with the stave church, the old Norse influence was still present in some of the knotwork carved into the stone pillars and high, arched ceiling.
The room was shaped like an upside-down boat and sat within the centre of the palace, with a tall tower at one end which had been the medieval keep at one time, and which now housed the private suites of the royal family, presumably where she would be sleeping tonight.
Margarite had explained all of this to Selina before she’d even set foot in the cavernous space, but it still surprised her to see it.
Tonight, she wore the gown that had caused all of that trouble with the countess.
A barely visible deep blue silk slip, covered with silver lamé and silver net, with glittering lace dripping from the capped sleeves and bodice.
She felt as if she were wrapped in starlight, and even the memory of the countess didn’t spoil her enjoyment in wearing it.
They were announced, and Selina’s heart began to thud wildly when she heard her full title. ‘His Serene Highness, Prince Magnus Kristiansen III, Sovereign Prince of Thrudheim, and Her Serene Highness, Princess Selina Kristiansen, Consort to the Sovereign Prince of Thrudheim.’
She recognised some of the faces from the church earlier, and she was a little depressed to see that the strong sense of disapproval hadn’t changed.
The introductions were a little strange, as everyone appeared to be a part of the House of Solberg or had loose links to the last king—which they were always quick to point out.
Selina thought it very odd, considering she didn’t even know the name of her own grandmother, let alone the cousin of her great-great-grandmother.
But there were thankfully fewer titles to remember than in England, with only one duke, a couple of counts and a handful of lords, although Magnus quietly pointed out that none of these people owned land and the titles were simply there out of respect for prominent families.
‘Your Serene Highness, would you like to join us for luncheon on Thursday this week? Perhaps we can help you settle in Thrudheim?’ asked a willowy redhead called Lady Nora Solberg.
Her father, the only duke, had proudly introduced her to Selina with a slight frown, as if it offended him that he had to do so.
In contrast, Lady Nora Solberg seemed delightful, despite her father’s disapproval, and Selina was so relieved to meet a friendly face that she immediately nodded enthusiastically. ‘I would be glad to accept.’
Several dignitaries had gathered around with sharply tilted noses and scrutinising eyes. They reminded her disturbingly of vultures, like the drawings she’d seen in one of her father’s nature books.
They began to peck at her, asking questions about her family, political views, and all manner of random subjects.
All while being simultaneously dismissive and uninterested in her answers, which only confused her.
Did they want to know her opinion, or were they simply reminding her of the importance of their own?
Finally, she was introduced to the business and trading families of Thrudheim, including Miss Sonja Bergen, the lady who had apparently caught Prince Hans’s attention and who had been close friends with Princess Helga.
Selina could see why Hans admired her. She was extraordinarily beautiful, with long pale blond hair that was pinned up elegantly with soft trailing curls around her elegant neck, and a perfectly proportioned face and flawless complexion that would have made Helen of Troy run for the rosewater soap.
She was so far removed from the wool-merchant strumpet she’d imagined that Selina blinked several times during the introduction.
Magnus was decidedly cold towards the young woman, and they moved on quickly to lead the toast. Once the formalities were complete, the music began to play, and the tension eased as people began to talk and dance.
Selina was glad to drain a glass of punch and tap her feet in time to the music. Magnus was talking with some government officials, and she allowed her mind to wander as she stood by his side only half listening to the conversation about British trade agreements.
Occasionally, a gentleman would politely ask her to dance, and she was grateful each time, as standing so still beside Magnus was tiring and dull.
After a dance with one particularly old gentleman—who she’d practically had to guide through a cotillion—she decided to get something to eat from the heaving tables of food.
Unlike an English ball where the entire party stopped for supper halfway through the night, a Thrudheim feast involved the food being on display at the end of the room, where people were served plates by servants and sat more casually to eat on nearby benches, like an indoor picnic.
There was quite a throng milling around, and as Selina was a lot shorter than most people here—the people of Thrudheim were a tall breed—she weaved between the crowd without much notice. She set her sights on a delicious stand of flavoured ices in silver cups.
The servant handed her the strawberry flavour she’d requested, and she sighed with pleasure as a spoonful of the sugary treat hit her tongue. She hadn’t eaten much today, partly because of her nerves, but mainly because she hadn’t had a moment of peace since waking up.
She heard a group of women giggling to the side of her, and she peeked through a gap in the crowd to get a better look. If people were having fun, she wanted to meet them!
Immediately, she recognised Sonja, Nora, and a few of the other young ladies that had attended the wedding.
She was about to go to them, when she realised what they were laughing about—all except for Sonja, who didn’t seem as amused as the rest of them.
Nora was holding her open fan by its sides and was mumble-singing while the other girls giggled.
Selina didn’t need to understand their language to realise Nora had been impersonating her.
Unfortunately, just as she had decided to make her hasty escape, the men screening her from the young ladies decided it was the perfect time to walk away, leaving her exposed with her silver spoon halfway between her mouth and cup.
Nora was still making her sneering impression with her fan, and it took a sharp elbow from Sonja for her to realise the subject of her ridicule now stood in front of them.
Selina supposed it was her just deserts for doing the same to Magnus…literally.
Deciding that the best course of action would be to accept her fate, she laughed. After all, she couldn’t expect Magnus to throw out every catty woman that offended her.
The women stared at her as if she were mad.
So she shrugged, dug her spoon into her ice, and strolled away with a cheerful smile.
It wasn’t that she didn’t care that they’d been laughing at her—of course it had hurt.
Especially as she’d been so hopeful about Nora.
But Selina had spent years trying to ingratiate herself with women like that, and look how that had turned out!
She’d made one mistake, and they had quickly abandoned her. She had spent so long trying to make friends. Reliable, caring, true friends. But somehow, despite all of her best efforts—and partly because of them—she had always failed.
Something about her was fundamentally flawed, and she had given up trying to change it.
Most of the tables and benches at the very back of the ballroom were full of guests eating and drinking. Several people rose to offer her a seat when they realised who she was, but she refused. How much more foolish would she look sitting down alone?
She turned to face the dancers, it must have been a local dance because she didn’t recognise the music or the steps, although it looked a lot like a quadrille.
She poked at her ice miserably, having quickly lost her appetite.
‘Your Serene Highness, may I have the next dance?’ asked a deep and familiar voice.
Selina almost dropped her ice with fright at the unexpected dance request from the same man who had snubbed her so thoroughly before. She raised a brow at Magnus. ‘Are you sure? You weren’t very keen on dancing with me before.’
Magnus’s top lip quirked with amusement. ‘But you are no longer Miss Mortimer. You are a princess now.’
She rolled her eyes and stabbed at the cup of ice, which was quickly turning into a sludgy pink mess. ‘I suppose that means I am good enough to dance with you now.’
Magnus gently took the ice from her hands and placed it on the table behind them. ‘I am sorry about that.’
‘Are you?’ She examined his face, partly because she enjoyed looking at him and partly because she took delight in teasing him.
He didn’t respond but took her hand and led her onto the dance floor, just as the previous dance ended. Magnus led her into the centre of the emptying floor and nodded to the maestro.
A waltz began to play, and with ease Magnus gathered her in his arms, and they began to float around the room.
‘Nobody else is dancing,’ Selina whispered in confusion.
‘It is the last dance before midnight. Just for us,’ he said, as if that explained everything. After a second of her muddled mind trying to follow the steps and comprehend the significance of the time, it suddenly hit her.
‘Oh, I see.’ Part of her was grateful the night had come to an end. No more ballroom, no more unfriendly people! But then…there would be the wedding night. A thrill of nervous excitement fluttered low in her stomach.
Faces spun past them in a blur, as they twirled around the room like a leaf on the wind. ‘You dance like Hans,’ she said, but she meant You dance beautifully.
Magnus frowned, as if insulted by the comparison. ‘Hans dances like me, you mean.’
She laughed, and after a moment he chuckled as well. ‘I suppose that is true, as you are the elder.’
‘Were those women laughing at you?’ Magnus asked, and she blinked in surprise, almost missing a step, but he simply lifted her and turned the mistake into a twirl.
She clutched at his arms, half-afraid she would fall or humiliate herself further.
But she needn’t have worried; she was coming to realise she was always safe in Magnus’s hands.
‘No, I shared the joke,’ Selina lied. ‘Besides, it’s what I deserve after the way I treated you.’
‘They should show you respect. I am sure Sonja was at the heart of it.’
‘Ahh, of course, because Sonja is a wicked Jezebel—not unlike me. We exist simply to tempt men away from their honour.’ She gave him a sly and alluring look—she wasn’t sure if it worked because he quickly glanced away from her.
‘And, truth be told,’ she added, ‘Sonja was the only one not laughing at me.’
‘She wouldn’t dare.’ He looked down at her with a heavy scowl, and so she brightened her own smile in response, although she had to tilt her head up quite a lot to meet his eyes.
He blinked, his eyes flicking away from hers to stare at the space above her head sternly. ‘Do not look at me like that.’
‘I cannot smile at you?’ she asked incredulously.
‘You cannot tempt me,’ he growled, and she tilted her head in confusion.
‘Tempt you?’
‘People are watching.’
Selina was beginning to lose her patience. ‘I suppose they are, considering we are the only dancers on the floor. What on earth do you mean?’
He sighed and met her eyes finally. ‘When you look at me like that…’ a hopelessness crossed his face as if he were in pain ‘…it is difficult for me. I must remain…composed.’
‘Do I irritate you?’ she asked, bristling against the immediate sting that followed like a lash.
He gave a dry chuckle. ‘Sometimes.’
She lowered her gaze, staring at the silver embroidered fringe on his shoulder.
All of the silver thread they were wearing must glitter beautifully in the candlelight—they would look magical, a true prince and princess.
Such a pity he was always so unhappy with her and himself.
She wanted nothing more than to make him smile.
‘I find it hard to concentrate around you. To focus on what needs to be done. The prime minister was talking to me, and all I could think about was why you were walking away from those ladies with that ridiculously false smile.’
Startled, her eyes met his again, and she blushed. ‘I didn’t want them to know.’
‘That they’d hurt you?’
Her stomach twisted, and she nodded. The fingers at the small of her back pressed her a little closer towards him.
‘There is something wrong with me,’ she confessed.
‘I can never make friends and keep them. I am a slow reader and writer. Yet my mind constantly runs down rabbit holes, and I always speak without thinking.’ After listing these faults, she realised that it was no small wonder that he found her irritating.
‘I am truly sorry that you were forced to marry me.’
‘I was not forced,’ he said firmly, ‘so there is nothing to forgive.’
She shook her head. ‘You wouldn’t have married me, otherwise.’
‘No.’
She winced.
‘But I see no point in regretting the past. If I focused solely on the past, I would not have managed to ensure Thrudheim received its independence from Denmark. And I do not think either Lady Anne or Lady Charlotte would have been a better choice than you in the end.’
A flush of pleasure sent tingles of awareness up her face and down her spine. ‘Truly?’
‘Truly,’ he reassured her softly, and when he smiled it was a broad and disarmingly handsome expression, like she’d seen when they’d watched the whales together.
‘Do not look at me like that,’ she whispered, her voice breathless, and not from the dance.
Was she floating? She could no longer feel her toes.
‘You make me dizzy when you smile like that.’ She’d meant to tease him, to tell him that he irritated her, but she hadn’t been able to find those words and had blundered forward with the truth instead.
His pupils flared until there was only the barest rings of blue irises visible. They danced and twirled to the music, the crowd turning into indecipherable smudges of colour as they whirled past.
Selina could only focus on Magnus, on the dark eyes watching her, the strength of his hands as he guided her around the room, of the steady rise and fall of his chest. She had been miserable only a few moments before, and now she was in heaven.
In that dazed and enthralled state, Selina came to the surprising realisation that she was falling in love with Prince Magnus, and there was no hope left for her.
She was smitten.