Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
Rosie woke up late the next morning to the sound of a knock and was immediately overwhelmed by the grandeur of the room she’d collapsed in the night before.
Despite going to bed at an early hour, she’d hardly been able to keep her eyes open once the servant had left her alone in the bedroom.
As it was, she’d barely made it across the room to collapse onto the plumpest, softest bed she’d ever seen.
The knock that had awakened her sounded again. “I have your breakfast, My Lady,” a small, muffled voice called through the door. “May I bring it in?”
“Oh! Oh, um, let me dress first!” Rosie called out, doing her best not to fall out of the bed as she hurried toward the place where she’d placed her clothes the night before.
“No need, My Lady!” the girl called back. Just in time, Rosie snatched up the dressing gown at the end of the bed and threw it on as the servant girl opened the door and walked in carrying a wooden tray.
“I’m sorry for disturbing you, My Lady,” a servant girl said, dropping a curtsy.
Then, as though she saw women in their nightdresses every day, she hurried to place a wide silver tray holding a massive breakfast at the distant end of the huge bed.
“I didn’t wish to wake you, but the queen has requested your ladies’ attendance for tea this morning, and I thought you might like to be dressed in time. ”
Rosie, who had been busy rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, stiffened.
The queen had requested their presence? But then again, that only made sense, she supposed, seeing as Snow was now the queen’s youngest son’s intended.
Obviously, the woman would wish to get to know her soon-to-be daughter, and to invite their mother as well made sense.
But did the queen really want to get to know Rosie too?
“Yes, um… Thank you.” She did her best to smile at the girl. It felt odd, though, seeing as until her introduction to court yesterday, Rosie would have ranked no higher than this servant. Then she looked again at the breakfast. “Is… Is that all for me?”
The girl smiled, dimpling a little. “The cook wasn’t sure what Your Ladyship preferred, so he sent a little of everything.”
Your Ladyship. That would take some getting used to. Had Frederick really needed to ask his father to give all three of them titles? Rosie would have much preferred being addressed as Miss.
Still, there was nothing the servant could do about it, so Rosie thanked her again and did her best to excuse her in the least awkward way she could think of before looking again at the pile of food before her.
She wouldn’t be able to eat even a quarter of it.
But did they really waste so much food here?
Such a meal could have fed her entire family at home for more than a day.
Just then, Rosie’s door burst open, and Snow flew in, her eyes glowing with joy. “Isn’t it wonderful, Rosie?” She beamed and twirled. “See my new dress? It was in my room when I woke up!” She looked around Rosie’s room. “Where’s yours?”
“I don’t think I have one,” Rosie said, looking carefully around the room again. There was a painted pink wardrobe that stood against the far wall, but when Rosie went to peer inside, it was empty.
Snow gasped. “But why would–”
“Because you’re going to be the next princess.” Rosie caught her sister’s hands to keep her from the nervous pacing she always took up when she was worried. “And don’t worry about me. I’m not about to meet my future mother-in-law.”
Snow froze and paled slightly, but Rosie laughed. “Don’t you dare start fretting. You look like a spring day. Now, let me eat a few bites of this feast they put on my bed, then I’ll freshen up as well.”
What little of the food that Rosie did manage to eat was delicious, but she was too anxious about meeting the queen to feel much hunger.
Instead, she focused on washing her face, neck, and arms with the water in a bowl beside the mirror.
Then she did what she could to smooth the wrinkles in her dress from the carriage ride the day before.
But there was little to be done about it beyond that, so she finally gave up and focused on neatly braiding her hair and plaiting it against her head.
“Your hair always lies smoother than mine,” she complained to her sister as she pinned the rebellious strands against her head.
“It would behave far better if you would stop moving to pin them up,” Snow laughed, taking the pins from her sister and pushing her hands out of the way. “They’re just as impatient to be going as you are.”
Rosie didn’t think it possible, but somehow, by the time a servant came to escort them to the queen’s personal parlor, she was somewhat presentable.
Now that she wasn’t dropping from exhaustion and the daylight was brighter, Rosie had a better chance to examine the walls of their new home as they followed the servant.
In this hall, there were more tapestries and busts, but there were also windows on one side of the hall spaced at regular intervals that let in the sunlight.
They were walking, she guessed, on the east side of the castle, based on the brilliant angle of the morning sun.
She took comfort in its familiar warmth, reminding herself that this was the very same sun that had shone down on her every day of her life outside her beloved country cottage.
But whatever comfort she derived from this brief interlude melted almost immediately when they were ushered into a suite even larger and more luxurious than her own to face a woman of powerful countenance, with sharp eyes and regal, commanding features.
Rosie had seen the queen the night before, of course. But only from a distance. Now that Frederick was not present, however, and the queen wasn’t in a state of shock, she surveyed Rosie’s little family with an air of…
Well…
Disappointment was the sensation that Rosie perceived. But how she hoped she was wrong.
“Excuse me, Mother,” said a deep voice from around a corner, making Rosie jump. “I didn’t realize you had company coming. I shall beg your pardon and make way for your guests. Here is the letter you asked me to write.”
As he spoke, Rosie turned to see the crown prince step into the parlor from what she could only assume was another part of the suite.
He bowed low to his mother before handing her a sealed letter, but as he stood, Rosie felt her heart quicken.
She hadn’t stood so near to him the night before as she was now, and it dawned on her just how tall the man really was.
She was considered tall for a woman, but he towered more than a whole head above her.
“Of course, son. I thank you,” the queen said. As the queen spoke, though, Rosie somehow met the prince’s gaze. And to her surprise, he didn’t immediately look away, seeming to be summing her up yet again in much the same way she was him.
It could have only taken a second, for he turned and left almost as soon as his bow was complete, but Rosie found herself ruffled as the queen greeted them yet again.
It wasn’t an enthusiastic greeting, Rosie noticed, despite the chaos of her mind.
Still, enthusiastic or not, the queen graciously bade the women sit after they had curtsied.
Once they were seated, tea was immediately served.
Much to Rosie’s relief, the queen focused most of her attention and conversation on Snow and spared the rest for their mother, giving Rosie little time or attention. Which was more than fine with Rosie. She had no desire to be the recipient of this woman’s scrutiny.
It was funny, though. The queen said all that was proper and gracious, but she wasn’t warm.
Nothing like her youngest son. Rather… when Rosie studied her, she realized that the crown prince bore a much stronger resemblance to his mother than Frederick.
His skin had a slightly more olive complexion, and his hair was a darker shade of brown.
In fact, despite the brothers looking quite similar, the only shared trait seemed to be that they had both inherited their mother’s startlingly blue eyes.
“I apologize for the early summons,” the queen said, gently placing her cup back on its saucer. “But as my son informs me, you both wish to be married soon, which means we must begin planning directly.”
Rosie couldn’t be sure, but the queen’s emphasis on the speed of the wedding sounded somewhat suspicious. Snow, however, only blushed prettily and nodded.
“I asked him if he might not prefer to wait until after his affairs were set to rights,” she said in her sweet voice. “But he said that might take months, so I capitulated.” She gave a dainty laugh. “I couldn’t very well say no when he looked at me so pleadingly as he did.”
The queen’s firm expression softened slightly.
Apparently, this had been the right thing to say.
“I know what you mean,” she said with a slight chuckle.
“The boy could get nearly anything out of me when he was small with a look and a pretty plea.” She took a deep breath and nodded to a servant, who hurried forward to carry the tea things away.
“Well, if Frederick is determined to have his wedding in less than a month, we must begin planning immediately.”
Then she surprised Rosie by going to a nearby writing table, upon which a stack of parchment sat. There was also an inkwell and a pen, and after dipping the pen in the inkwell, the queen began to recite the preparations needed for the ceremony and ensuing ball. As she spoke, she began to write.
“We’ll need to see to the gown first and foremost, of course.
That will keep the seamstresses busy, as well as ordering new wardrobes for you all.
Then there is the feast to plan, the invitations to send out, and the list of guests to whom they must go.
I’ll talk to our gardener about which flowers will be in bloom, though I have a feeling they’ll be the roses, lavender, and thistle.
” She paused and studied Snow. “With your colors, I think pink roses would answer.”
Rosie glanced at Snow, who was still smiling. But this time, her smile looked strained.
As the queen continued to rattle off tasks, there was a gentle knock at the door. Without looking up, the queen called for whoever it was to enter. In floated five women, one of them far older and more finely dressed than the others. She carried a pink cloth bag.
“This,” the queen gestured to the older woman, “is Mrs. Franko, our castle seamstress, and these are her assistants. If you don’t mind, they’ll take your measurements and colors as we continue our planning.”
The only thing to do, of course, was to heartily agree. Although Rosie’s willing submission was nearly put into question when she was pulled to her feet and unceremoniously stripped down to her undergarments in front of the queen. But the queen, unperturbed, simply continued making her list.
Rosie’s hopes for their immediate future began to sink when the queen informed them that their gowns would take weeks to months to be finished.
But the queen only rattled on as though that little detail didn’t matter, listing decision after decision that must be made within the next three weeks…
before making most of the decisions herself with hardly a thought from the bride.
Since their betrothal, Rosie had known, of course, that she couldn’t plan the wedding herself as she would have done if they were back home.
But she had desperately hoped to be a part of it.
She had always expected to play an important role in her sister’s wedding, as her sister had expected to have one in hers.
But here, aside from standing where the queen ordered and holding Snow’s flowers when she turned to say her vows, was there anything Rosie might have a hand in for the sister she so loved?
“We shall have to choose colors for the ribbons in the castle chapel and the ballroom soon, for those always take longer to make than they ought. And of course,” the queen continued, “there will be the cake.”
“Oh!” Snow exclaimed, brightening. “That’s easy. Rosie shall make the cake!”
The queen stared at her as though she’d spoken a foreign language. “I’m sorry, my dear, but… who is Rosie?”
“I am, Your Majesty,” Rosie said, feeling her face redden slightly. “My name is Rose Red, but Rosie is my nickname.” She laughed nervously. “I don’t think I’ve gone by Rose Red since the day I was born.”
“Rosie makes the most beautiful cakes!” Snow gushed. “She made all the wedding cakes for our village friends back home!”
“I see,” the queen said slowly as she put down her pen. “Of course, if that is what you wish, it shall be done. But may I gently remind you that this will be no country village wedding?”
Rosie blushed even hotter. The queen’s words were gentle, but her intentions were clear. And before she could think better of uttering them, the words were out of her mouth.
“You are correct, Your Majesty. This is no country wedding. It is my sister’s.”
From the look of shock on the queen’s face, Rosie half expected the queen to send her to the gallows as soon as she had uttered the words. But after a moment, the queen only looked once more at Snow. “If,” she said again with great forbearance, “it is what you truly want.”
“It is,” Snow said firmly.
And Rosie couldn’t help but grin.