Chapter Four #2
I barely have any time to absorb his words when he pushes the door open and the sheer grandeur of the room hits me like a wave.
The ceilings are high, trimmed with elaborate mouldings that look like they were carved by angels.
Crystal chandeliers hang from above like glittering icicles.
Towering windows overlook perfectly manicured gardens, so very different from our rambling, slightly chaotic gardens back home.
The furniture looks like it belongs in a museum or a European design magazine, and the drapes are dramatic sweeps of blue fabric.
In fact everything in the room is blue. Which makes sense, considering… well, the room’s name.
And there, sitting by the fireplace of the Blue Drawing Room, are my future parents-in-law. King Leonardo and Queen Eleonora.
They rise as we enter, and I throw my gaze over them. The King looks like an older, slightly softer version of Frederic, with the same dark eyes, same strong features, with silver threaded through his hair at the temples. He’s handsome in that stately, quietly commanding way.
Queen Eleonora, on the other hand, is so perfectly put together that I instantly feel like a country bumpkin in my dress and single string of pearls.
She has no less than three strings of pearls at her neck, her posture is flawless, exactly the sort of posture my ballet teacher tried (and failed) to beat into me when I was eight.
Her dark hair is styled into an elegant, glossy arrangement that defies gravity, and her lavender dress is the picture of refined elegance.
Frederic places his hand gently against the small of my back, and together we step farther into the room.
“Mother, Father, allow me to introduce Princess Astrid of Elkevik,” he says formally.
If ever there was a time to pull out my very best curtsy, it’s now.
I dip into what I hope is a passable version, wobbling only slightly from lack of practice, and somehow manage to stand upright again.
It’s a small victory.
“Your Majesties, it’s an honor to see you both again,” I say, doing my best to mask the tremor in my voice.
“And might I say your palace is absolutely stunning, though I should confess I got lost on my way here today and I ended up in the glasshouse, but Fred said you already know about that little diversion of mine. So there’s that. ”
Stop talking.
I’m nervously rambling in front of my future parents-in-law, who also happen to be the King and Queen of Ledonia.
“But on the plus side, it’s an absolutely lovely glasshouse, and I hope to spend more time there soon,” I finish up.
Why I felt I needed to add anything else is anyone’s guess.
“Well,’ the King Leonardo says, looking a little dazed by my info dump.
I open my mouth to fill the silence, and then remember not to.
“I understand you became acquainted with some of our dogs in the glasshouse earlier,” the King continues.
There is definitely judgment in his voice.
“I won’t make that mistake again, I promise, sir. Fred told me that precious plants in the glasshouse mean dogs are not permitted. But your dogs are divine, although they made my dress a little dirty, so I had to change into this.”
Both sets of eyes travel over my dress, and I try not to shift my weight.
Another silence.
“Would you care to sit?” the Queen asks.
“Of course.” I glance at Frederic. He has a pained expression on his face. I offer him a weak smile as I sink into one of the chairs, feeling about as comfortable as though I’m sitting on a forest of cacti. If there’s such a thing.
“I apologize once again for keeping you waiting, Your Majesties. It wasn’t my intention. I got a bit carried away with myself,” I say.
“Does that happen often?” the King asks.
“Sometimes,” I reply truthfully.
“It’s perfectly fine,” Queen Eleonora says, though she doesn’t crack even the faintest smile. “Would you care for some tea, Astrid?”
“Tea would be lovely, ma’am,” I say, raising my chin in the princess-y way Frederic seemed to prefer earlier. I glance at him. He looks as though he wished the earth would open up and swallow him whole.
Oh, dear.
The Queen lifts the teapot herself, which is something I absolutely did not expect a queen to do, and begins to pour. “Milk or lemon?”
“Milk, please, and three sugars, if you can.”
The queen pauses in her pouring to look at me. “Three sugars?”
You’d think I’d just said execute the prisoners at dawn by the way all three of them gawk at me. Three sugars in tea is clearly not the done thing in Ledonia.
Back home, it’s practically a food group.
“Or just two, if that’s… err, better?” I say, my eyes darting between all three of them.
What is the correct amount of sugar in tea for a future Ledonian princess? I need a handbook.
Queen Eleonora adds the milk to my cup and then sugar, one cube at a time, before passing it to me. “Your tea with three sugars, Astrid,” she announces.
The moment the cup and saucer touch my hands, they begin to rattle loudly from nerves, so I set them down on the table promptly before an accident happens.
So much safer that way.
The last thing I want is to spill even a drop in this incredibly glamorous and sparkly room.
King Leonardo leans forward, hands clasped. “Astrid, we’ve been following Elkevik’s situation with great interest. The recent energy deal complications must be very challenging for your country.”
“It’s been a difficult time,” I reply.
“We’re only glad we can help,” he says.
“And we’re very grateful.” As I reach for my cup and saucer again, I catch the edge of it with the sleeve of my dress, and then everything happens in slow motion.
The cup slips. Tea lifts into the air in a graceful amber arc, as if it’s making a bid for freedom. I lunge for it, which only succeeds in knocking the saucer off the table as well.
For one suspended, excruciating moment, I’m aware of too many things at once: the soft gasp from somewhere to my left, the way my heart drops straight into my shoes, and the unmistakable certainty that I am about to be remembered as that woman, the one who spilled the tea.
Literally.
Tea goes everywhere. It splashes across the immaculate tablecloth, freckles the floor, and then lands on my yellow shoes.
The cup hits the floor with a sharp clatter, far louder than necessary, and I freeze with my hands suspended in the air.
Oh no. Oh no!
I freeze, my heart thrashing in my ears.
I did not just do that.
Did I?
“Well,” I say at last, into the stunned silence, my voice far too cheerful for the circumstances. “I suppose it could have been worse.” I glance down at the spreading stain, the scattered porcelain, and my damp shoes. “Not much worse. But worse.”
Beside me, Frederic goes very still. He doesn’t speak. He simply looks down at the wreckage with the expression of a man who can’t quite believe he’s about to become engaged to the perpetrator of such a crime.
“I believe we should call for assistance,” he says finally, his voice eerily calm.