Verena
The Privy Council has been talking for a long time about trade with other kingdoms, constructing another shrine for Ayna near the border of Isenmere, something about taxes—yada, yada, yada.
It's all a blur that I can't focus on, thanks to the lingering apricot scent behind me.
But that is nothing compared to the urge I have to sniff Wulf's mouthwatering blood again.
That tart blackberry and cool mint could soothe my throat while his hands slide over my bare skin, teasing and pinching and—
"Repeat that," Beowulf says behind me.
I startle and realize he's talking to one of the noblemen.
The man also seems surprised that the taciturn warrior addressed him. "P-pardon? I only said that the White Mask was sighted in Grellheim two days ago, healing at an almshouse."
"Ridiculous. The White Mask doesn't exist, if he ever did," Lady Dorn yawns. "I say he is nothing but an old myth."
"He's as real as the unsightly wart on your husband's chin," the man insists vehemently.
Ignoring the elderly woman's insulted gasp, he goes on with, "We ought to officially invite him into our kingdom.
He could heal our sick and elderly—and he'd be a good fellow to know if that plague in Hamelnmark starts to spread! "
That gets everyone talking over each other.
I glance back at Wulf. I'm not sure why the White Mask piqued the Huntsman's interest, but now he's exchanging a look with Eris that I don't understand.
"Enough! This meeting has gone on quite long as it is, and we have a much more pressing matter to discuss before we leave," Lady Silber insists.
After a long minute of her getting everyone else to calm down, the noblewoman looks at me so seriously that I expect her question to be life or death.
"My queen, are the rumors true? Have we finally received another invitation to Aurefeld's biennial masquerade festival?"
Several excited gasps follow, and suddenly I'm the center of attention. I phone a friend by glancing sideways at Merrick.
"Help," I whisper.
"Ah, yes—I meant to have your latest correspondence brought to you this morning.
Please, allow me." He smiles brightly at everyone in the room as though bearing the best of news.
"The rumors are true. For the first time in many years, King Roderik and Queen Gisela have officially extended an invitation to Isenmerian nobility to attend their grand festival in ten days, on the condition that our beautiful queen attend. "
The entire Privy Council is thrilled with this. A few of them begin excitedly discussing travel plans and ballgowns with whoever sits beside them.
Lady Silber looks at me with all the hope of a kid writing a letter to Santa.
"Please say you will attend, Your Majesty, for we cannot go if you do not!"
A masquerade festival in a fantasy world? Abso-fucking-lutely.
My imagination is already jumping between all kinds of gorgeous ballgowns I could create for Anika, and Snow White, and Ingrid, and…
Wait.
Shit, do I really have time to design dresses and go to another kingdom in ten days, when I should be learning how to read Rhinestone's journals?
Lady Silber senses my hesitation and hurries to add, "As you know, Aurefeld's king and queen give a festival every two years—but this year is quite special, my queen. This year's festival shall last for three nights, for they want their prince to select a bride there."
The other Privy Council members are piping up with their pleas and gabbing about how glamorous it will be and how I simply must go, but my brain is catching up.
A three-day festival so a prince can select a bride?
Holy shit.
That's Cinderella's fairy tale.
I could meet the Cinderella.
Surely, that alone is worth staying a little longer in this world—especially if I ask her to ask her fairy godmother to send me home. Or if this world is sticking to the old fairy tales I grew up reading, maybe the magic bird at Cinderella's mother's grave could help me.
"I'll attend the festival," I announce, before smiling extra sweetly at everyone present. "So long as everyone here properly welcomes the Bellavyrs to court within the week. Lady Bellavyr will keep me posted."
"Well played," Eris grins from the stained glass nearby.
"Of course! I shall send my regards at once," Lady Silber assures me.
"As shall I," another chimes in.
Others are already rising from their seats to warmly greet Anika as Merrick calls the meeting to an end. They rush to surround her so they can ogle her dress, compliment her beauty, and introduce themselves. Anika is perfectly composed as she speaks with each of them.
Merrick escorts me out of the council chamber, with Wulf and Eris tailing us as usual. I don't bother pulling the veil back over my head yet, since I don't really care if a few guards see my face now and then.
Besides, I might just do away with the whole veil thing if I end up staying here much longer.
"That went well. Mostly. That Sir Kranz is annoying as fuck, and he seems to have it out for you. Just say the word, and I really will kick him off the Council," I add.
The chamberlain slows just as we reach a big corridor I've never been in before. Several large portraits hang nearby, illuminated by rays of light from windows high above.
Wulf gives us plenty of space, standing with his arms crossed back at the entry of this corridor.
"I'm sure that is not necessary, but…thank you, Verena." Merrick looks at me. "And thank you for saying you called Arnold here."
"There's nothing to thank me for. Your business is your business. By the way, what wing of the castle are your chambers in?"
He motions in a direction that means little to me, since this place is still a fucking maze inside my head. "The west wing."
"Are there spare rooms in that area?"
He regards me with a good-natured suspicion. "Why do you ask?"
"No reason," I shrug innocently. "I just think we should probably set up the castle's new goldsmith over there.
Just in case he needs to, say…I don't know, rant to you in the middle of the night for hours about my demanding jewelry designs.
I think the incensed woes of a hot, bald goldsmith are something a chamberlain should handle personally, don't you? "
Merrick struggles to fight a surprised smile before he nods in agreement. "Well, if you insist, what choice do I have?"
"None at all. Stay on top of Arnold for me. That's a royal order," I add with a cheeky grin.
That makes him laugh outright before he rubs his neck as if bashful.
"Truthfully, I have not cared like this for someone else's incensed woes, as you put it, in many years."
His gaze lifts to one of the nearby portraits, becoming soft and melancholy.
I follow where he's looking and blink at the king posed majestically in the huge portrait—the spitting image of Snow White if she were a twenty-something-year-old man in a shining crown.
Oh, shit.
Now it's really hitting me just how cruel it was for the evil queen to fire Merrick immediately after King Leland's death, whether she knew it or not.
I look at the chamberlain. "I don't know how people treat love in this world, but I hope you know I won't breathe a word to anyone."
He seems to come back from distant memories before smiling at me.
"My gratitude and loyalty are ever toward you, Verena—of course they are, for I would and have buried bodies for you."
He says that like he's joking but dead serious at the same time.
I blink, confused. "What bodies? I haven't killed anyone."
Well—no one since the Three Stooges, anyway. And that guy I hid in the stable.
I still feel fucking awful for those poor horses who had to witness that.
Merrick looks around as if to check that we're alone. Of course, he does not see Eris in the nearby window before he leans down to whisper, "No one besides Schultz, you mean."
"What? Schultz is dead?" I hiss back, shocked.
My chamberlain straightens, equally confused as he drops the teasing.
"You truly didn't know? He vanished from his cell in the dungeon just before your trip to visit Ida.
All that remained was enough blood to make it quite clear he did not escape.
I figured you gave a covert order out of precaution—a wise move, since that snake would surely try to harm you sooner or later.
Not to worry, I had everything handled with utmost discretion," he adds.
"Everyone else believes he was banished to the Ashen Wilds. "
My gaze flicks to Eris.
My gorgeous Adonis doesn't even bother playing naive. Instead, he kisses the tip of his finger and presses it to the glass, eyes on the beauty spot above my lip as if wishing he could press it there instead.
That does wild things to my heart.
As much as I don't appreciate these unhinged fairytale men killing that Frisbee-mouthed jerk behind my back…I am weirdly very flattered they did it just to protect me.
Then again, Wulf really does take his pledge seriously.
"You're the best," I tell Merrick, turning back to him with a smile. "For the record, I would hide a body for you too—and by that, I mean I would have Wulf do it, because ew. Anyway, about this masquerade ball…why are the Isenmerian nobles only allowed to go if I attend? Is that normal?"
Merrick's expression turns sober. "No. It is rather abnormal, actually."
He withdraws several envelopes from under his velvet doublet. Several days ago, I told him I forgot how to read and asked him to please just give me a summary of whatever comes in the mail for the queen.
So instead of handing them to me, he unfolds a previously opened letter marked with a gold royal crest.
"This invitation from Aurefeld is brief and gracious, but in it, the king of Hamelnmark is mentioned.
He will be at their festival as well, and it seems he is the one who requested that they extend an invitation to you this year.
They have not invited Isenmere since you insulted the royal family of Aurefeld years ago—before losing your memories," he adds.
"It seems Hamelnmark is playing peacemaker. "