Avina levels them each a look to desist.
Before Thora can retort, a click along the floorboards instantly silences all of them.
“No need to quiet on my account.” The Dowager Queen Frida, Sigvid’s mother, appears in the doorway, leaning on a cane, with a goblet of wine clutched in her free hand.
“Grandma Frida!” Both Thora and Aura embrace their only mortal grandparent.
“Look at my three lovely girls.” She gushes. “Except, Aura. What is that fake smile on your face? Have your parents taught you nothing? We do not conceal our thoughts in this family.”
“She’s been cooped up in her room for the last week.”
Thanks, Thora.
“What good does that do? Is this boy trouble? Or girl trouble?”
“Grandma!” Aura blushes wildly. “Is it not possible I am distressed over something else?”
Frida takes a long drink of wine, surveying her over the cup's rim. “Doubtful, my dear. Is it that nice boy from Salt? The blacksmith? Oh, I find him the sweetest lad.”
“Oh, I think this one might be just a bit older, Grandma,” Thora smirks from behind Frida’s back as she shifts out the door.
Dammit, Thora and her bird infestation!
“We can discuss romantic lives, or lack thereof, later.” Avina ushers their Grandmother from the room.
“I see we are going through with this… thing.” Frida humphs.
Avina sighs at her mother-in-law. “Sigvid feels passionately about uniting the continent on the Draemonium front. One did almost dismantle our country.”
“The Ridge Province’s Golden Standard Winter 98 almost dismantled me one night, but you do not see me arranging a damn meeting about it.” She leans heavily on her cane as she walks. After a terrible fall a few winters ago, she now claims she is bound to it. According to her father, Frida simply liked the aesthetic.
“We are supporting Sigvid on a matter that could destroy everything. Tonight is about greeting dignitaries and other Kings.”
“Briny’s great balls.” The older woman swears under her breath so only Aura can hear.
“Come along, both of you. Or the King will have our heads.” Avina nearly shoves Frida out the door.
“Ha! I would like to see that boy try. He could do with more stable heads on that Inner Circle of his.” Frida’s loud voice echoes down the corridor.
“I will be right there!” Aura shouts over her shoulder, still staring at herself in the mirror. The forced smile upon her lips hardly fools her family. How did she expect it to be passable tonight?
Pain over Calder’s rejection lasted only a few days before morphing into bitter anger.
He is just like all of the others. Leading me on with my emotions, only to tear me apart for someone else to pick up the pieces.
Tonight, she would enter the Farewell Feast with her head held high. A proper princess focused on proving she is a daughter to be proud of.
She spins away to be confronted by her brother, Bjorn. The Drengr leans against the foot of their parents' bed with his hands stuffed in his trouser pockets. Unlike their father, who wears warrior clothing for nearly every occasion, Bjorn always managesto find high-quality attire. This evening, he appears like the prince of an ancient, wealthier kingdom such as Pradacia or Steinlund.
Shit, will anyone in this family leave me in peace?
“Practicing how to smile again?” He grins.
She smacks his arm. “The last few weeks have been exhausting, B. Cut me some slack.”
“My, my little sis, does this have anything to do with Jarl Avardsson?”
Aura gapes like a fish out of water. “Why would you say such a thing?” She emits an awkward laugh more damning than had she just remained silent. “No…Jarl Calder…no. How ridiculous!”
