Chapter 16
Chapter
Sixteen
The prince insisted that one of the young lords give up his seat in the carriage so Rosie could ride back to the castle from the forest. And though she was inclined to argue, her body was too sore. So she meekly allowed the prince to place her in the carriage for the ride home.
The next day, Rosie was still sore, but she could at least stand and walk without looking too awkward. And that was good, as she and Snow had to stand before three mirrors that had been brought to Snow’s suite for their final gown fittings for the wedding.
After the king and queen had learned of the troll’s appearance in the forest, they had consulted the fairy godmother, who had advised them to move the wedding up–which meant Snow was getting married in three days instead of seven.
Apparently, the fairy godmother had cancelled all of her plans to attend.
Snow was resplendent in a dress the color of her name. The train was longer than she was tall, as was the veil. Her arms were draped with delicate white lace, and her slippers were made of silk. They would finish, the seamstress explained, by adding gold thread once the final adjustments were made.
Snow might as well be part fairy, Rosie thought smugly to herself as she watched her sister. But then again, she had always believed her sister would be the most beautiful bride in the land.
Rosie’s own gown was lovely. The skirt and bodice were blue, trimmed with white lace that was similar to Snow’s.
Her sleeves were made of silk instead of lace, and her shoes were less fragile and a bit more practical.
Snow had objected to Rosie’s desire to wear leather boots beneath her dress, but Rosie had remained stalwart, insisting that she might need to run should the troll attack.
“Good gracious, Rosie! Certainly, you won’t be the one to fight her if she does!” Snow had exclaimed during this debate. “There will be dozens of armed men all around, and the fairy godmother is coming! Everyone knows fairies are more powerful than trolls. Promise me you won’t fight!”
Rosie rolled her eyes. “Snow, every time she appears, it’s to talk to me.
I can only suppose it’s because the princes are covered by their godmother’s protection spell–which Jonathan did tell me she enhanced after Frederick’s return–and you have the necklace.
Would you leave me in shoes that might make me slip, should I need to escape? ”
Snow had paled at this thought, and Rosie had inwardly sighed in silent relief. She had successfully distracted her twin from her desired promise. Because Rosie would never promise such a thing. She would pull the troll’s hair with her teeth if it meant protecting her sister.
“I wish I could have been with you,” Snow fumed now as the palace seamstress spoke quietly with her assistants. “The queen had wanted me to oversee some of the supper preparations, and neither Frederick nor I could go when we heard about it.”
Rosie waved her hand, earning her an annoyed look from the young woman who was measuring her sleeve.
“I’m really glad you didn’t, actually. I have no desire to have you anywhere near the troll.
She would have attacked me yesterday if I hadn’t already picked a large handful of the yellowbelles.
Besides,” she smiled in spite of herself, “Prince Jonathan was there.”
Snow gave Rosie a sharp look that was followed by a devious smile. “Rosie, have you–”
“There’s no use going down any of those rabbit trails.” Rosie cut her off with a pointed glance at the seamstress and her assistants.
Snow looked put out, but she took the hint.
Natalie had warned them early on that anything said in front of the staff was fair game for court gossip.
In fact, sometimes people purposefully shared falsehoods in front of the staff to stir up trouble or to create a diversion from some piece of juicy gossip that involved themselves.
The rest of the fitting suddenly felt less joyous than when they had begun. Memories of the day before floated to the surface of Rosie’s mind, and her heart grew heavy.
“Rosie,” their mother said as soon as the seamstress had finished, and she and her girls had gone. “Is something wrong?”
“Oh,” Rosie replied, forcing a smile. “I was just deep in thought. About the troll and all.”
Her mother accepted this excuse without question. Unfortunately, Rosie’s twin was not deceived. When Rosie returned to her own room to freshen up, Snow followed.
“Tell me what’s wrong, or I’m going to ask Jonathan,” Snow said without preamble as soon as the door was shut.
“Snow!” Rosie whirled around. “What–”
“You think you’ve been so secretive, but you’re a bad liar, Rosie. What happened yesterday? Besides the troll?”
Rosie huffed. “Fine. But you can’t tell Mother. She’ll suffer an apoplexy.”
Snow’s blue eyes grew wide, and she sat on Rosie’s bed. “Was it really that bad?” Then her gaze narrowed. “And don’t try to lie to me. Like I said, I will talk to Jonathan, and he’ll tell me the truth if you don’t.”
Rosie drew in a deep breath, then slowly let it out. “When the troll appeared yesterday, Jonathan was with me, but so was Marianne.”
Snow scowled. “Does she ever leave him alone?”
“Very rarely,” Rosie said wryly. “Anyhow, the troll and I began to argue, as we usually do, and–”
“Wait, how many times have you argued with the troll?” Snow interrupted.
“More than I wish. Now listen! Anyway, we were arguing, and Marianne, she… she…” Rosie closed her eyes, her throat suddenly growing thick. “She offered my life as a sacrifice to appease the troll.”
Snow’s face drained of blood.
“And I think that bothers me more than the troll, to be honest,” Rosie said, tracing a line of stitching on the bedcover with her fingers.
“Knowing that another person was willing to send me to my death–” Rosie squeezed her eyes shut as all the thoughts that had haunted her the night before came to light again. And the decision she had finally made.
“That… That–” Snow stammered, her white face turning nearly cherry red.
“It’s not so much the insult I’m concerned about,” Rosie hurried on. “It’s the understanding that the woman who apparently wants me dead may very likely be our next queen.”
Snow opened her mouth, very likely to abuse the woman to the full extent of her vocabulary, when a knock sounded at the door.
“What?” she barked.
“I’m–I’m sorry, My Lady!” a muffled feminine voice called through the door. “But you’re needed in the library. The king has requested your presence to discuss the final marriage contract.”
Snow looked like she might explode, so Rosie hurried to reply before her sister could. “She’s coming now,” she called. Then she looked back at Snow, unable to stop herself from smiling. “Go, love. I have some cherry picking to do anyway. I’ll talk to you tonight before supper.”
“Very well! But we’re not finished with this conversation!” Snow snapped as she stood.
Rosie gently guided her sister to the door, afraid that if she didn’t, Snow would decide then and there that she wasn’t going. But annoying the king was the last thing either sister needed to do, now more than ever.
As soon as Snow was gone, Rosie picked up the basket she had borrowed from the kitchens. She was about to leave when an idea struck her.
It was reckless. And even if it didn’t offend the king, it would probably do so to the queen. But Rosie had very little time left to offend the queen, so she decided to scribble out a rash message on a small piece of parchment, taking the gamble anyway.
Once she was in the hall, she waved down a servant. “Please take this to Prince Jonathan,” she said, holding out the note. As soon as the servant was gone, Rosie went down to the gardens. A few minutes later, she was in the orchards, plucking red, juicy fruits from the cherry trees.
The sun was soothing in its tender warmth.
The summer was coming to an end, and soon, autumn would begin its gentle creep.
The fruits and grains would all be ripe and fat, and the harvest would begin.
The blue sky would move from a pale blue to a blue that was crisp and vivid.
The trees would change colors, and the animals would be searching for places to nest in the winter.
“I wish I could be here to see you then,” she said to the tree as she searched its fruits for the cherries that had ripened early. “It won’t be long, I know. Only a few weeks. But I won’t be here long, either.”
“What’s that?” a deep voice called.
Rosie turned and grinned at the sight of Jonathan walking between the rows of trees toward her.
“I wasn’t sure if you would come,” she admitted as he bowed. “I know you’re very busy.”
“I have to rest now and then,” he said, studying the tree nearest her. “Or I’ll just work myself to death. A king’s duties never end. Or at least, that’s what my father tells me.”
“I’m sure he’s right.” Rosie smiled. Then she looked at the cherry he’d taken hold of with his large, square fingers. “No, you don’t want the ripest ones.”
He paused and quirked a dark brow. “I don’t? But those are the sweetest.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “But the wedding is in three days. They’ll continue to ripen in the basket. I can’t have them all overly ripe when I use them.”
“How will you use them?” he asked, looking down at her basket.
“I’ll use the juices of the sweetest ones to flavor the cake,” she said, resuming her picking. “The prettiest ones, however, will be placed on the frosting as a decoration.”
“Where did you learn so much about baking?” he asked as she moved to the next tree.
“Well, my father was a scholar, as I think I told you. He encouraged any and all learning. And I suppose I turned out more like him than Mother because I would scamper about the village when I was small, dragging Snow along behind me, asking everyone I could find how they did things. Generally, my neighbors were kind, but many did their best to get rid of me.”