Chapter 9 Genevieve
Genevieve
The fresh air blowing past the barouche carriage is just what I need. Astoria and I sit side by side, waving to the friendly townspeople as we pass. The scent of apple blossoms drifts through the air, and the clean cobblestone streets remind me how much I love visiting Crawford.
The capital of Naseria, Crawford has found a neighborly balance between bluebloods and redbloods, leading to a harmonious life amongst former enemies.
I’ve traveled so little outside the city that I often wonder if the rest of Naseria shares this balance.
Mother would have me think so, but as I grow older, I’ve begun to doubt her word.
Yet she still controls all aspects of my life.
A tour of the country for my honeymoon will be just the thing to allow me to make my own assessment of the state of Naseria.
Leland was gracious enough to take the seat facing the opposite direction, saying he preferred the view of two beautiful women to that of the road into town.
The remark turned Astoria a shade of crimson I’ve only seen in a tomato.
She didn’t complain about joining us, but I know it must be uncomfortable for her to accompany Leland and me as we try to get to know each other better.
She would never disobey Mother’s orders, but I think she’ll be more than happy to slip off into the city for some time to herself.
As we bump along the cobblestone road, a silence settles over us. Usually, a trip to town relaxes me. I look forward to time away from Fairbright, but today it’s all I can do to calm the nerves coursing through me.
“It’s such a treat to be in warmer weather. We’re still deep in winter’s grip in Icelantica,” Leland says, breaking the silence as he leans his head back to take in the blue sky, scattered with soft white clouds.
“I don’t know how you endure such long winters,” I reply, placing my hat at my side and reveling in the sunshine on my face.
I know I should cover up to prevent further freckling, but the sun feels too good, and its warmth soothes my fractured spirit.
Astoria doesn’t dare remove her hat, but she tips it back just enough for the sunlight to illuminate her pale face.
“A long winter is part of life in Icelantica, and it’s welcome there. Cozy evenings by the fire, ice skating on the lake, skiing the trails outside the castle—all fond memories of my childhood. But I think I’ll enjoy these changes,” he muses, smiling at me.
The carriage stops outside my favorite bakery and tea shop, The Wild Rose. I want to share my favorite parts of Crawford with Leland, so a stop here had to be first on our list. Lady Clementine, the owner, is a dear friend, and I need her to meet him.
The first time I brought a man here, it was a gangly boy.
The memory of sharing a sweet with Kieran—of the surprise on his face at the frosted delicacies—fills me with warmth.
We were only eight then, and Father allowed Kieran to join our outing.
It was shortly after Kieran arrived at Fairbright, still a skinny wild child.
Father had to warn him to slow down or he’d make himself sick from all the sugar.
Kieran’s father had just been appointed head gardener, and Kieran had recently lost his mother.
I think that’s why Father encouraged us to play with him.
But before long, he became the boisterous companion who joined the Ashcroft children in all our adventures.
After that, we’d sneak into The Wild Rose every chance we had to share a sweet and cup of tea.
But those visits became fewer as we grew older—the gap between a blueblood princess and a redblood gardener’s son too vast to ignore.
Eyes were always on me, always reporting my behavior to the queen, and soon I was separated from anyone Mother deemed a bad influence.
Especially redbloods like Kieran or Clementine.
Now I’m bringing my blueblood betrothed with me.
The irony is not lost on me that I’ve done exactly what I once promised Kieran I’d never do—marry for the crown.
But he did exactly what he promised never to do—leave me without fighting for our love.
We both broke those promises so long ago, it hardly matters that our words of love have turned sour.
Leland steps out of the carriage first and offers me his hand, waving the footman off. I appreciate that he takes the time to help others, a rarity amongst the blueblood gentry. After he releases my hand, he offers the same courtesy to Astoria. She curtsies to him and turns toward me.
“Genny, would it be alright with you if I went down to Crawford Paints?” Astoria asks. While I know she tries to visit the shop as frequently as possible, I also suspect she wants to escape watching the fragile relationship between Leland and me unfold.
“Of course, go have fun! Maybe Mr. Guthrie will be there to instruct you,” I quip with a coy smile. I know shy Astoria is attracted to the owner of Crawford Paints, but she’s far too reserved to let her true feelings be known.
“Are you an artist, Astoria? I would love to see your work!” Leland says enthusiastically as he steps closer to me, his tall frame blocking the sunlight that had been falling on my bare face.
“Wouldn’t we all? Astoria keeps her artwork under lock and key.
I fear there may be booby traps involved,” I tease, and see Astoria’s cheeks flush.
I shouldn’t have embarrassed her in front of Prince Leland.
Her naturally reserved disposition makes it difficult for her to open up to others, and I know she would rather keep her artwork private.
“They’re nothing—really. Just a way for me to fill my time. I enjoy mixing the colors and the seclusion my art affords me.”
“The pressures of royal life can be exhausting,” Leland agrees. “I understand the need to find an outlet. I keep a few hobbies for myself as well.”
I look at him, wondering what this charismatic man could possibly keep to himself.
“Very true, Prince Leland. I look forward to hearing all your opinions on our capital city. Enjoy your time together!” Astoria replies before parting from us, a footman walking close behind her as they make their way through the bright streets.
The bell announcing our entrance into The Wild Rose rings as we step into the shop. Scents of freshly baked pastries and pots of tea fill my senses, but it’s the bright, cheerful voice that greets us that makes me smile.
Lady Clementine Hanford stands behind the counter, flour smeared across her cheek and a dusty apron tied around her waist. “Genny!” she exclaims. “What a wonderful surprise! You escaped the palace at last.”
I feel Leland tense beside me, likely surprised by her casual greeting toward the crown princess. But Clementine is one of my oldest and dearest friends. We’ve never followed societal norms—nor would we now that she is a duchess.
“Clemmy, you know I’d be here every day if I could,” I say as she comes around the counter and embraces me, careful to avoid the bare skin on my arms. She’s a redblood and has no gift herself, but she understands the customs bluebloods follow and the caution many of us practice.
“Lady Clementine, I want you to meet my fiancé, Prince Leland Frostclaw of Icelantica.”
Clemmy curtsies. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Prince Leland.”
Leland bows, taking her hand. “The pleasure is mine, Lady Clementine.” He doesn’t seem surprised that my dear friend is a shopkeeper covered in flour, and he treats her no differently than my sisters.
“Please, everyone calls me Clemmy. I wasn’t born an aristocrat—that would be my husband, Lord Griffin Hanford. How I ended up married to a duke is still a surprise to me!”
My friend’s marriage to my cousin is still new. It was a scandalous rise in power on her part, something much of the court still hasn’t adjusted to. Especially since Griffin was considered quite the catch amongst the blueblood ladies.
Leland smiles, not missing a beat. “You make a marvelous duchess.”
“I still don’t know how you convinced Griffin to let you work in The Wild Rose each day,” I add. I wasn’t sure Clemmy would take on the role of duchess so easily, but she and Griffin seem to have found a balance and mutual respect.
“Well, he had no choice if he wanted to marry me, like he so desperately hoped. The Wild Rose is a part of me, just as it was a part of my mother and grandmother.” Her tone is so matter-of-fact that it catches me off guard.
I think about my own curse, about the burden of becoming queen.
Those things are a part of me too, but will Leland learn to accept them?
“Lord Griffin is a good man,” I say, happy for the love my dear friend found.
“Enough about me, take a seat and let me get you some refreshments.” Clemmy bustles off like a wild wind, pulling out chairs for us at an intimate table toward the back of the shop.
Its white lace tablecloth and porcelain place settings are pretty with understated grace.
I always love the attention to detail Clemmy gives every part of her business, and I’m proud to see my friend find success, love, and happiness.
We sit, and Clemmy leaves us as she whisks away to the kitchen. I can hear her talking and wonder if her mother is back there, or perhaps the new shop girl helping today.
“She’s lovely,” Leland murmurs, looking around as he takes in the space. “And I can see why you enjoy visiting The Wild Rose. Is there anything in particular I should order?”
“Oh, I don’t think you’ll be given much of a choice. Clemmy usually decides for us when I visit. She’s always trying to stuff me full of her latest creations.”
“Ah, well, have I told you that I have a weakness for sweets?”
“Is that so, Prince Leland? Tell me—is that your hobby? Are you secretly a baker? Or merely a connoisseur of baked goods?”