He stepped over to Elin. “My darling,” he murmured. Instead of kissing one hand, as he had done with her stepsisters, he took both of Elin’s in his own and leaned forward, planting a kiss on each of her cheeks, which flushed upon contact. Spellbound, she peered back up at him.
When he tore his eyes from hers, he stepped ahead, to me, the last in line. He took my hand, too, in his own, and raised it to his lips. “You could not have arranged for a more perfect day for a visit.” He held my hand and my eyes with his own but used a free arm to gesture at the skies above.
“The gods and the clouds both complied,” I agreed. Under his gaze, I found I wanted to elicit his good graces. “Welcome to Bramley Hall.”
I heard a throat clear and looked up to see Otto had come forward. He did not greet me, and instead asked: “Where shall the men rest their horses?”
“Take that path”—I jutted my chin toward the outhouses—“to the stables. Do not stray off the walkway. We are reseeding the grounds. Alice will show you the way.” She had been instructed to keep a close eye on the men—and not to let any wander to the rear of the house.
“I’ll join you for your dinner,” Otto said, as if the invitation were his to issue.
“We need not sit right away,” Simeon protested, tilting his face up toward the light. “Perhaps Elin and I will take another stroll in the orchard.”
All of us eyed the path that wound along the side of the house, toward the trees, and right past the view of the hole in the roof. Rosie looked down. Mathilde kept her eyes resolutely forward. Elin blushed. No one dared contradict a prince.
“I’m afraid the rains have made the fields impenetrable,” I said.
“A modicum of slush has never stopped me.” Simeon’s hand reached for Elin.
“I think—” She stepped toward him and looked back at me, beseechingly. “I think—” Simeon took ahold of her arm and began to walk her along with him, toward the side of the house.
Rosie nudged Mathilde to help, and she called out: “Elin, you must not catch cold!”
“Yes,” Rosie agreed. “We have such a warm fire inside.”
Elin looked at Simeon. Her blue eyes suddenly less blue. “I am a little…” Her voice was so quiet I could barely hear her. “Cold,” she finished.
“I will keep you warm.” Simeon pulled her arm with a small amount of force. Instinctively, Elin stepped backward, and the tension between the two caused a rip in her dress, an inch of her undergarments poking through the sleeve. Embarrassed, she whipped her hand up to cover the rend.
Instinctively, I reached a hand toward Elin, who was inspecting the tear with dismay. Beside me, Otto tensed.
“Alack,” Simeon exclaimed, shaking his head, though I perceived no real regret in the set of his brow.
“Your dress.” Mathilde took a step between them. Rosie hurried to her side. Their bodies a small wall of protection.
“I am clumsy.” Simeon looked around, ever the prince once more, hands held up in apology. “Elin is cold. We’ll go inside.”
In the great hall, we rinsed our hands in the basin and took our seats, Simeon at the head of the table. He unfolded his napkinand looked over the tableau—two days of work manifested in a series of dishes. “I am glad you haven’t done anything extravagant on my account.”
“A light meal,” I assured him.
“There is nothing worse than a feast where the food does not stop coming. I was hosted recently, and they brought out lamprey pottage and salmon in mustard sauce and venison in sauce of ale and some concoction of green leaves and bustard and I ate to my heart’s content and only then realized it was the intended first course. It is refreshing to eat as you eat.” He reached forward and began to serve himself some carved pheasant. “To dine as you dine in your everyday lives.”
“You do not need to worry,” I said. “The food you see is the food we eat.” Memories of oat cakes and watered-down stews contradicted the words in my mouth.
“I do not have a sweet tooth.” Simeon turned to Elin. “I prefer smoked herring to pickled. Venison is my favorite meat. I cannot stand lamprey. I do not want to see lamprey, ever. There is something wrong with their round, teeth-filled sucking faces.” He cocked his head at her reassuringly. “You will learn all this in time. My preferences. And we will ensure our cooks learn yours.”
“No lamprey,” Elin repeated, nodding, diligent.
Simeon continued as the rest of us served ourselves. “People always try to impress with the most exotic things—stork, bittern, that sort of thing. Porpoise. Seal.”
“Seal!” Elin’s brow furrowed.
“Yes, and what they do not understand is there is nothing as appealing or as humble as a good loaf of bread.” He nodded toward the row down the center of the table. “A simple roast. I do not need to eat curlew to feel appeased. Food is about satiation, after all. Gratification, yes, but hunger, that is what food is for. So I thank you kindly for the bread.”
On Simeon’s other side, Otto withdrew a knife from his own pocket and used it to saw off a hunk of the loaf that was in front of him.
“Do not be worried,” Simeon told Elin, helping himself to thesalt-and-pepper box, “by all my prattling. I like to hear myself talk. And if you want an elaborate wedding feast, we will serve swans for all I care.”
