Frederic doesn’t respond.
“So, what are your parents like?” I ask, shifting gears. Maybe I’ll have better luck talking about his living family than his ancestors’ opinions from beyond the grave. “I barely remember them from when I visited here as a child.”
“My parents are firm but fair,” he replies.
Firm but fair. They sound like a barrel of laughs.
We come to a stop outside a set of tall double doors.
“We’re here,” he pronounces.
The tiny flutter of nerves I’d been feeling detonates into full-on panic. He places his hand on the door knob, ready to push the door open, when I grip his sleeve. His eyes dart to mine, his hand frozen in place.
“The dress. It’s no good, is it? It’s too…yellow,” I say urgently.
“As I said, it’s perfectly fine.”
My heart drops. “Perfectly fine?”
“I mean you look nice.” He clears his throat before adding, “You lookpretty.”
I blink at him in utter shock. Did the marble statue really just call me pretty?
I barely have any time to absorb his words when he pushes the door open and the sheer grandeur of the room hits me like a wave. The ceilings are high, trimmed with elaborate mouldings that look like they were carved by angels. Crystal chandeliers hang from above like glittering icicles. Towering windows overlook perfectly manicured gardens, so very different from our rambling, slightly chaotic gardens back home. The furniture looks like it belongs in a museum or a European design magazine, and the drapes are dramatic sweeps of blue fabric. In fact everything in the room is blue. Which makes sense, considering… well, the room’s name.
And there, sitting by the fireplace of the Blue Drawing Room, are my future parents-in-law. King Leonardo and Queen Eleonora.
They rise as we enter, and I throw my gaze over them. The King looks like an older, slightly softer version of Frederic, with the same dark eyes, same strong features, with silver threaded through his hair at the temples. He’s handsome in that stately, quietly commanding way.
Queen Eleonora, on the other hand, is so perfectly put together that I instantly feel like a country bumpkin in my dress and single string of pearls. She has no less than three strings of pearls at her neck, her posture is flawless, exactly the sort of posture my ballet teacher tried (and failed) to beat into me when I was eight. Her dark hair is styled into an elegant, glossy arrangement that defies gravity, and her lavender dress is the picture of refined elegance.
Frederic places his hand gently against the small of my back, and together we step farther into the room.
“Mother, Father, allow me to introduce Princess Astrid of Elkevik,” he says formally.
If ever there was a time to pull out my very best curtsy, it’s now.
I dip into what Ihopeis a passable version, wobbling only slightly from lack of practice, and somehow manage to stand upright again.
It’s a small victory.
“Your Majesties, it’s an honor to see you both again,” I say, doing my best to mask the tremor in my voice. “And might I say your palace is absolutely stunning, though I should confess I got lost on my way here today and I ended up in the glasshouse, but Fred said you already know about that little diversion of mine. So there’s that.”
Stop talking.
I’m nervously rambling in front of my future parents-in-law, who also happen to be the King and Queen of Ledonia.
“But on the plus side, it’s an absolutely lovely glasshouse, and I hope to spend more time there soon,” I finish up.
Why I felt I needed to add anything else is anyone’s guess.
“Well,’ the King Leonardo says, looking a little dazed by my info dump.
I open my mouth to fill the silence, and then remember not to.
“I understand you became acquainted with some of our dogs in the glasshouse earlier,” the King continues.
There is definitely judgment in his voice.
