She focused on the gowns with longer sleeves. She didn’t want to have to wear a jacket and cover the beauty of the garment. Her fingers brushed a sleeve of deep sapphire silk with a high neckline and silver embroidery that reminded her of frost on a winter window. Another dress was emerald green made from some soft material that she was unfamiliar with. The skirt flowed like water when she held it out to get a closer look. A red gown caught her eye, the shimmer reminiscent of flames and glowing embers.
“You’re going to look like a princess.” Even her own voice while talking to herself held a reverent awe. She giggled at herself. “Althoughqueenwould be more accurate.” She could just imagine the look on her family’s faces if she told them that she was an actual queen. “I think I like that idea.”
Bryn sat on the bed and stared at the rack. She had never owned anything more glamorous than a cocktail dress from anoutlet store, and now she was being asked to choose what to wear to a royal party as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.
“Get a grip on yourself,” she muttered. “It’s just a party.” But was it?
She was going to be in front of the people of Stagholt, at the side of their king, quite possibly as hisintended mate.
The words made her stomach twist. She liked Sven when she could get past the controlling her life thing. More than liked him, if she was honest. But this party. She wasn’t quite sure what the procedure would be, but she knew in her gut that it was going to be a life-altering event for her.
A knock came at the door. Bryn smoothed her hair and tried to compose herself before she opened it to reveal two women who obviously worked in the castle. Both curtseyed. Bryn half-assed curtseyed back.
“We’ve been sent to help you dress, my lady,” one said.
Bryn almost laughed at the title. “Please. There’s no reason to be so formal. And I can dress myself.”
“Queen Freya has insisted. We are Eva’s sisters. I am Stella and this is Beatrice.”
“How is your sister doing?” Bryn asked.
“She is strong. She will heal.” They didn’t offer much in the way of chitchat.
Bryn stepped aside as she knew she was not going to win any arguments about preparing herself for the party. Both women moved with practiced efficiency, unfastening zippers, holding gowns against her figure, clucking approval or shaking their heads. Bryn managed to get them to lighten up and pretend that it was just a game of dress-up.
In the end, the emerald dress won. The green set off her dark hair and enhanced her eyes, the fabric skimmed her curveswithout being too revealing, and when they fastened a silver belt at her waist, she almost believed she belonged in it.
After a quick shower while they waited, Bryn’s hair and makeup were next. She watched as they expertly dried and curled her hair before Stella arranged it into an elegant updo.
“I need you to come to my room every morning,” she teased. “My hair has never looked so good.”
“I could see if I could be assigned as your personal assistant,” Stella replied without a hint of humor.
“I was teasing,” Bryn explained. “I don’t expect an assistant while I’m here at the castle.”
The two girls exchanged a glance but didn’t say anything. Beatrice was the makeup artist of the two, and she applied just enough to be noticeable without being overbearing.
“There. You are beautiful enough without anything heavy.” Beatrice stood back and examined her work. “I think it’s perfect.”
When they were finished and she was fully dressed, Bryn hardly recognized herself in the mirror. She looked like someone whocouldstand beside a king.
When Freya arrived a short time later to collect her for the party, Bryn let out a low whistle. “You are absolutely beautiful.” Wearing a lavender gown with tiny flowers embroidered across the bodice, Freya looked every bit as regal as a queen should.
“And you, my dear, are absolutely stunning. My son is a lucky man.”
Bryn wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Where is Sven?”
“He’s meeting us in the ballroom. It’s customary that he arrives separately.”
Bryn wondered how much royal protocol she was going to screw up over the next few hours but she remained quiet. They collected Hilda along the way, who looked excited and alert inher wheelchair. Her gown was a royal blue with a matching jacket.
The castle’s ballroom glowed from candles in crystal sconces, and garlands of greenery twined everywhere in the room and across a small balcony on one end. Music floated from a small ensemble in the corner, and the air smelled of all sorts of elegant concoctions from the food tables. Bryn waved at the bakery owners who stood behind a table heaped with baked goods.
A hush fell and Bryn turned to see everyone staring at the door.
“Your Royal Majesty King Sven Aftervadee,” rang out across the room.
Sven entered the room wearing a fitted black tuxedo. She could see the royal crest of Stagholt proudly displayed on his shoulder. His commanding energy filled the room and while everyone bowed, Bryn stood frozen as he sought her out. Their eyes met and she felt a jolt run through her that she swore people next to her could feel.
