Chapter Seven
Astrid
I wake up in a bed with the light seeping around the edges of the curtains. I’m momentarily confused. I’m sure I’m at home in my childhood bedroom with the view out across our rambling gardens. I’m half expecting to hear the chickens clucking and the goats bleating as they always do in the morning.
Instead, I hear nothing, and it takes me a moment to work out where I am.
Then it all comes flooding back.
Ledonia. The palace. The proposal. Last night’s state dinner.
My fiancé.
I sit up and rub my eyes, feeling an unaccustomed weight on one of my fingers. I turn my hand to see my engagement ring taking up a considerable amount of my hand’s real estate.
I’m engaged. Engaged. To a man who probably thinks I’m completely ridiculous.
Actually, there’s no probably about it. I’m sure he thinks I’m ridiculous, from my chatter to my accidents and everything in between.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and pad to the window. I pull back the heavy velvet drapes, and am immediately blinded by the shockingly bright Ledonian sunlight.
Well, I’m awake now.
When my eyes finally adjust, I take in the manicured hedges, a fountain with sculpted figures, and several pheasants pecking at the ground. It’s picture-perfect.
And yet I feel a little out of my depth here.
Okay, a lot out of my depth.
Sure, I somehow managed to charm Frederic’s parents yesterday despite my clumsiness. And yes, I made friends with people at dinner, even making my future father-in-law laugh at my stories.
But Fred? He’s an entirely different story. There may be small signs of humanity beneath that perfectly polished veneer, but they’re only tiny cracks.
We’re supposed to be getting to know each other. Opening up. Sharing who we are. Preparing to spend our lives together. Husband and wife. Future King and Queen of Ledonia.
King and Queen of Ledonia.
Geez.
My stomach flips.
At least that future is far away. King Leonardo still has plenty of years left before the crown passes on to Frederic when he turns 65.
The phone at my bedside rings and I nearly jump out of my skin. “Hello?”
“Sweetheart,” my mama’s voice coos.
“Oh, Mama, it’s so nice to hear your voice,” I say, sinking back into my bed.
“How are you settling in? We’ve been thinking of you constantly.”
“Well, the palace is beautiful, the sun is certainly bright, and the gardens are exquisite. Did you know they have a glasshouse filled with the most gorgeous plants?”
My mother’s soft laugh makes me smile. “The palace in Villadorata is very grand.”
“I met some Labradors moments after arriving. I made friends with them. I’m so glad they have dogs here.”
“That’s marvelous, Asti. And how is the prince?”
“The prince is—" I trail off. How do I describe Frederic? He’s hardly been friendly towards me, and that proposal wasn’t exactly one for the story books. Not unless it’s a guide on how not to propose.
But then last night I felt the weight of his stare across the dining room table more than once, and he did tell me I’d charmed everyone. Well, after a few false starts.
There’s a distant voice in the background, and Mama laughs before she says, “Your father wants to know whether you’re in love already.”
In love with Frederic? Has he gone completely insane?
“Not yet,” I reply, keeping my tone light. A small knot forms in my belly.
Could I ever love someone like Frederic? Someone so controlled and serious?
I might have seen glimpses of humanity behind the formal exterior, but that’s all they are. Glimpses.
“Well, I’m sure he’s already falling for you. How could he not?”
“I’ll keep you posted.” I lift my left hand. “He proposed and the ring is…big.”
“Was it romantic, just as you’d wanted?” Mummy asks, and there’s such hope in her voice, I don’t have the heart to tell how it happened.
“It was nice enough, and I said yes, of course.”
“Of course you did! Oh, darling, I’m so happy for you. Things look as though they’re working out wonderfully.”
That knot in my belly tightens. “Yes. Wonderfully.”
There’s a knock at my door, and Anya bustles in with a breakfast tray piled so high it could feed an entire family.
“Mama, I’ve got to go. Breakfast has arrived. A lot of breakfast.”
“What’s on the menu?”
I examine the tray. “Everything.”
She laughs once more. “Lucky you. Have a wonderful adventure, Asti. Call me tomorrow?”
“Of course I will. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I hang up, and a small sigh escapes me. Why am I already missing home? It’s only been twenty-four hours since I left.
“Is that coffee I smell?” I ask.
“It is,” Anya replies.
I pour myself a cup and take a grateful sip. The coffee is divine, which is a small miracle, considering Ledonians seem to worship tea the way we Elkevikians worship warm socks in winter.
“Princess Francesca sent a message,” Anya says. “She’d like to breakfast with you in the conservatory at nine.”
“Well, that sounds lovely, but isn’t this breakfast?” I ask, eyeing the feast.
“Oh, they like to feed you here. It’s a Ledonian thing, I’m told.”
I tuck a napkin into the neck of my nightdress. “Well, we can’t disappoint them, can we? Sit with me and eat. There’s plenty of food.”
“Oh, my gosh! Is that your ring?” she asks in excitement, grabbing my hand to inspect it. “It’s gorgeous! And fricking huge!”
“It’s certainly impressive.” She’s still clasping my hand, admiring the ring from all angles. “Do you think I could have my hand back? I’m starving.”
“Oops.” She releases my hand, and together we sit on my huge bed and dine on flaky pastries, rich coffee, scrambled eggs, and tiny herb-filled sausages. It’s all utterly delicious, and even Anya’s questions about the proposal barely even bother me.
After we’ve finished eating and I’ve dressed in what I hope is an acceptable outfit, I slide my feet into another pair of high heels and feel a soft yearning for my Wellington boots. I would swelter in those here in the heat of Ledonia.
I make my way down to the private family living area, getting lost only once, which is a new personal best. I knock, then push the door open.
Several of the Labradors from yesterday bound over to me, tails wagging, and I crouch down to greet every one of them as Francesca grins at me from across the room.
“Astrid! You found me. I was worried you’d end up in the glasshouse again.”
“I think I need to invest in a compass,” I say, scratching behind a Labrador’s ear, “Although I have absolutely no idea how to use one.”
She greets me with a hug, her floral perfume filling the air. “Sit. I have tea and pastries, but if you want something more substantial—?”
“Tea is perfect. I’ve already had a huge breakfast delivered to my room.”
We sit at a small table covered in a linen tablecloth, with an elegant teapot, and plate of pastries, and a vase of red roses at its center.
“Oh, that’s my parents for you. They think guests need feeding up when they come to the palace. They probably think you need feeding up. You could eat with the rest of us in the breakfast room, if you prefer.”
My mind immediately darts to the spilled tea incident yesterday. “I might stick with a tray in my room for now.”
She leans forward. “So, how are you finding things? And I want the honest answer, not the diplomatic one where you tell me everything is wonderful.”
I consider lying. I consider saying everything is perfect. But something about Francesca’s open, genuine expression makes me want to tell her the truth. “I’m a little overwhelmed, I suppose. I’m trying to convince myself I haven’t made a mistake in agreeing to all of this.”
She blinks at me. “Well, that’s honest."
I shrug. “You said you wanted honesty.”
“I did, and I appreciate it. What’s going on? Is it Fred? Is he being all prickly? He’s like that at times, you know.”
“He started out telling me I’d done much better than he expected at the state dinner last night.”
She shakes her head. “Oh, Fred.”
“He then corrected himself and said I’d charmed everyone, but I wasn’t sure he meant it.”
Francesca closes her eyes and makes a noise like a groan.
"Oh, of course he did. You know, he once told our mother that her Christmas jumper was ‘seasonally relevant.’ That’s Fred-speak for normal human communication.
And he doesn’t lie. If he told you he thought you were charming, that’s what he really thought.
I love my brother, but he has the emotional vocabulary of a constipated cow. ”
The image of Fred’s head attached to a cow’s body pops into my mind and it nearly makes me choke on my tea. “A constipated cow?”
Her eyes glint. “You can see it, can’t you?”
“He’s a little uptight.”
“Personally, I can tell he thinks you're rather marvelous, but he's so stiff he can barely express how he feels. Take for instance chocolate cake. We all know he loves it, but what does he say about it?” She lowers her voice and pulls her features into a scowl. “It was satisfactory.”
I snort a laugh at her imitation of my future husband. “Fred loves chocolate cake?”
I file the information away for future use.
“Oh yes. He almost smiles when it's served for afternoon tea.”
I relax into the conversation. I’ve found a kindred spirit in my future sister-in-law.
“What I don't understand is why you agreed to this in the first place,” she says as she pours me some tea.
“I thought it might be an adventure.”
“The words ‘Fred’ and ‘adventure’ are rarely used in the same sentence.”
“I've led a sheltered life, like you probably have as well. Us princesses don't exactly have the most expansive education and experiences.”
"Finishing school rather than attending a real university?”
“You, too?”
She nods. “But why Fred?"
I think of the glimmers I’ve seen beneath his exterior. “He's very handsome,” I begin, but even I know that isn’t the reason. His good looks are more the icing on the cake.
“I suppose he is.”
“Both our countries want this. That’s important.”