Verena
The Huntsman's ice-blue gaze sweeps over to me, and I suddenly have to look anywhere except for the mark on the side of his neck where I nearly drew his B-word earlier.
Now, it looks like a hickey.
Stellar work, Vera. That's it, no more feeding on deadly, hunky Viking men.
"Hello. I'm Merrick, the new chamberlain," Merrick greets Wulf.
Whatever has made people look down on northerners, he doesn't seem to give a rat's ass as he studies the rugged Huntsman.
"I believe I've heard of you. They call you the Huntsman of the North, yes?
Are you here as an emissary from Nordhjem? "
Wulf must have already settled his things somewhere because he's empty-handed. He hasn't looked away from me, a determined set to his expression.
"No. I belong to Verena."
Snow White gasps and gives me a look that clearly says, See? True love!
Shoot me now.
Merrick's brows go up. "I thought the Favored were dismissed, but if the queen has selected you as a lover—"
"Whoa, no. No, no, no," I interrupt, grimacing as I remember how close I was to jumping the Huntsman's bones earlier. Like me, I'm sure he also blames the impromptu feeding earlier for all that pesky arousal. "No way. No."
"I'm not convinced six no's is enough. What do you think?" Eris jokingly asks the Huntsman from the shiny axe hanging at his hip.
Wulf makes no reply to Eris in front of people who can't see him, but his jaw is clenched.
He must be annoyed at being mistaken as one of the queen's playthings, but I'll make sure it doesn't happen again.
I clarify quickly. "Wulf is just my bodyguard for a little while."
"I see. For how long?" Merrick asks, turning back to Wulf.
The rugged man finally looks away from me. "For the rest of my life. As I said, I am hers."
If Snow White wasn't already certain Wulf and I are destined to be, she is now as she practically swoons on my behalf. The chamberlain has noticed the mark on Wulf's neck and glances at me as if he's trying to read between the lines, so I decide it's time to move on.
"Did Anika and Ingrid pass on working here?" I check, turning to Merrick.
He's done such a great job of getting people to hustle and bustle around the castle that this courtyard is empty now except for us. The sun starts to set, turning the sky overhead to amber and indigo.
"Ah, right. I'm afraid I let my excitement get the best of me, for I meant to tell you their decision sooner. Let us leave the spring's chill," Merrick suggests.
Done with his initial survey, he turns and walks with me back toward the throne room. The Huntsman follows like a silent bodyguard, Eris vanishing for the time being.
I'm pretty sure I hear Snow White asking Wulf whether he likes the dress I'm wearing as she tags along. I don't catch his quiet reply, but I make a mental note to tell the wannabe matchmaker princess that I have absolutely no interest in romancing a scary Viking before I go home.
No matter how tempting his blood and body may be.
Once we return to the throne room, Merrick asks a nearby servant to serve Snow White supper in the great hall. She protests at first, but with all the patience of a naturally paternal man, he says it's unseemly for princesses to miss meals and sends her off.
Once it's just Merrick, Wulf, and me in the throne room—with Eris reappearing in the wall of mirrors—the chamberlain turns back to me with a smile.
"Excellent news. Anika and Ingrid shall both come to work here just as soon as they have helped the tavern owner find other servers. Though I must say, they were both quite confused about the sudden opportunity to work as maids in the castle."
Thank god. Although I hope they don't only work as maids here.
I've given some thought to how I want to leave this place when I return to my world. Maybe the real Queen Reinhilde and I have only swapped places, and that bitch will be back, or maybe she's long gone—but either way, Snow White will need some down-to-earth women supporting her.
I pull back my veil since we're alone.
"I think Ingrid could be a phenomenal friend and lady's maid for Snow since they're close in age, but I really want Anika on the Privy Council. How do we make that happen? Can I just wave my hand and make someone a noble?"
Merrick rocks back in his boots, gazing at the tall, flickering candelabras nearby as he considers for a moment.
"Normally, that would be opposed, but…well, the Council may accept your ruling in this case, thanks to Anika's background."
"What background?"
"My niece is of noble birth. All our family is noble in Aurefeld.
My brother became a well-loved knight there until he and Aurefeld's king had a nasty falling out—no one knows the true reason.
Anika was still a child when the king stripped my brother of his knighthood and ordered him to leave Aurefeld with his wife and daughter.
They came to Isenmere, where my brother has become a mere miller—albeit a sometimes drunk and bitter one. "
I frown. "I don't get it. If Anika and her parents were born noble in Aurefeld, why aren't they noble in Isenmere?"
Merrick sighs. "I should say nothing against the glory of Isenmere, but…
according to some rather vain age-old laws, when a noble from another kingdom wishes to settle within our borders, the status of their birthright is put to a vote between our monarch and the Privy Council.
If they have garnered enough Isenmerian favor, their nobility is sustained, and they are welcomed to court.
My brother had no interest in appeasing the council's boundless vanity.
King Leland's father was still alive and voted against his noble status, and thus Anika has lived as a commoner. "
So this kingdom's government is made up of egotistical assholes who ignore real problems to get off on humiliation rituals and performative bullshit?
"I guess this world isn't as different from mine as I thought," I mutter. "Since I'm the monarch now, can I change that old vote and announce that Anika and her family are and always have been nobles?"
"Yes, but…"
"But?"
"The Privy Council may have no choice but to accept your vote sustaining my brother's birthright, but they will still look down on Anika, since she has not earned their goodwill through social gatherings and compliments and such.
She simply hasn't had the chance, living as a commoner," he adds with a frown.
"That's so fucking stupid. If anything, the council should be the ones buttering up the nobles joining our court from other kingdoms, not vice versa."
"Alas, the court nobles are a shallow, vain lot who prize finery and beauty above reason. I should know, as one of them," Merrick adds with a good-natured chuckle, straightening his surcoat.
I want to huff that if they're all about beauty, then they only need to take one look at Anika to accept her—because my god, that woman is stunning.
But my attention settles on the gold beading on Merrick's clothes. Gears start to turn in my head as I look at the depiction of Ayna, the Faerie of Pride, in one of the stained-glass windows.
Finally, my lips curl.
"What's that devious expression for?" Eris asks, arching his brow at me from the mirror.
"Merrick. You're a man of excellent taste. Look at the cut of that surcoat. The embroidery, the boot color. Flawless."
He preens. "You flatter me, Verena."
"Tell me, what fabrics do the nobles of Isenmere go wild for?"
He rattles them off easily. "Well, mirrorflax is at the height of fashion, but how could one not love that glossy sheen? Rather expensive, though. Silk and glimmer gauze are everywhere as always, and starlace is still beloved by many of the older noblewomen. Are you perhaps seeking a new wardrobe?"
"Oh, god, yes. Don't even get me started on how badly I want to burn the queen's dresses—but that's not the point," I say quickly. "What about a fabric that's hard to get your hands on? I'm talking extra luxurious haute couture shit."
He puzzles out those last words before his eyes light up.
"There are rumors in Isenmere of a truly exquisite fabric called wispfloss. I myself have never seen it in person, as it is quite difficult to obtain. They say the sole weaver of wispfloss will sell it to almost nobody, for she is quite picky."
"That she is."
I startle and swear at the sound of Wulf's low voice.
I guess it makes sense that a huntsman can be freakishly quiet since he must spend a lot of time creeping up on prey—but holy shit, I got so absorbed in this new idea that I forgot he was observing nearby.
"You've met this picky weaver?" I check.
He nods, folding his arms over his chest. The motion makes me again notice all the blue runes circling his bulging muscles.
"You speak of Ida. That waspish old woman has not left her cottage at the brink of the Loomdark in many years."
"What are the odds that you and Ida are already BFFs and you can hook a sister up?"
Wulf glances at Eris for translation. Merrick frowns in confusion at the empty mirror to which he's turned.
"In bizarre otherworld terms, I think she's asking if you're friends with the old woman," Eris shrugs.
The Huntsman shakes his head. "I've merely crossed paths with her and know where she lives."
"Great!" I turn back to the efficient chamberlain and beam.
"I'd bet both my pinky toes that I can shake things up so the council will be the ones trying to earn Anika's goodwill, instead.
I may not have much experience in this world, but what I do have are a very particular set of skills.
Skills I have acquired over years of being hunched over a sewing machine, pricking my fingers all fucking day.
After Anika and Ingrid get here, I'll take some measurements, and then we'll take a quick trip to see Ida. "
Eris groans. "As if you're not in enough danger here, now you want to tempt the Loomdark."
Wulf grunts in agreement with the man in the mirror. "It is too dangerous for you. Send me alone."