“Lowri, pour the princess a glass of wine.”
Thank the gods for Ellynne.
I groan with annoyance into my silk sheets.
The bed depresses and I feel Ellynne’s familiar touch as she strokes my hair. Her fingers catch on a few knots, and I wince.
“You have the hair of a princess, but the heart of a warrior.” The amusement in Ellynne’s voice provokes laughter from me. I press my cheek against the sheet, turning to face her.
“A warrior sounds so much more intriguing. At least then I wouldn’t have to go to this bloody Feast.” Hells, the bloody Feast wouldn’t even exist if not for the necessity of my marriage.
“It’s nearly time for you to visit Her Majesty,” Ellynne reminds me. As though I can possibly forget. “Let’s get you looking more presentable.”
“Fine.” I sigh, sitting up.
“Tomorrow we’ll try on more dresses for the Feast. How does that sound?” She’s speaking in that ridiculous, soothing tone.
“You’re patronizing me.”
Ellynne responds with a knowing smile. She’s lucky I’m fond of her in all her cheeky glory.
I push myself off the bed and follow her to the wooden vanity, my dark hair swinging well below my backside. Try as I may, I can’t help but pout like a petulant toddler as I plop into the vanity chair. “Myhair looks awful, doesn’t it?” I turn to Lowri as the slight woman hands me a goblet of wine.
“N-no, Your Highness.”
I roll my eyes, and I swear Ellynne does as well. Lowri is relatively new to my service after my last lady eloped with another servant, and she’s nothing like her sister. Not even in appearance. For what Lowri lacks in curves, Ellynne has it all and more. Long lashes frame Lowri’s big blue eyes, giving her the illusion of wearing kohl. Ellynne’s eyes are olive green with a perpetual sparkle as fiery as the hair on her head.
I seize the goblet from Lowri and chug the wine before handing it back. The brunette skitters off while I glower at my reflection. Golden strands of hair shine through my black tresses—a physical trait from the grandmother who died before my birth. I’ve seen paintings of her, with stunning raven hair, golden-streaked like mine, and warm brown eyes like my mother’s.
Thanks to many sleepless nights, dark semicircles draw attention to my amber eyes, the freckles scattered across my nose and cheekbones stark against my ivory complexion.
“Why are you scowling at yourself like that?” Ellynne asks as she lifts my brush from the vanity and begins carefully running it through my hair.
I allow silence to fill the space. Now and then, Ellynne tugs harder on the brush, pulling a hiss from me each time. “Should I cut it?” I ask.
“It’s up to you.” She smiles at me in the mirror’s reflection as she continues detangling the knots. “I would miss styling it, though.”
I shrug. Perhaps severing myself from my defining feature could also cut away my faults.
Ellynne plaits a small portion on each side, pulling the braids into a halo around my head and securing them with little hairpins. The lower portion of my hair is left loose to cascade down my back. She finishes the look with my favorite diadem—a delicate headpiece ofgold, twisted into an intricate design that dips into a V against my forehead. A ruby gem at the center of the Vmatches the amulet that rests against my chest.
“There.” She beams with pride. “Do you like it?”
I turn my head from side to side, admiring my hair from different angles. It’s perfect, as is to be expected from Ellynne’s gifted hands. “It’s lovely,” I say, the corner of my lips twitching up into a small smile. I stand and my tresses drop down to the backs of my thighs.
Lowri comes running toward me, a bodice and a sage green gown in hand. Both women help me into the garments, lacing, cinching, and buttoning it all before slipping my favorite heeled shoes onto my feet. The buckle of this pair is adorned with tiny iridescent gems that match any dress I wear. I appear more than presentable, but I am tardy. As usual. I set off with purpose toward my door and Ellynne calls out to me.
“Carys, don’t forget your book.”
Right. How could I forget that? I halt in my tracks and turn as Ellynne approaches with a leather-bound tome in hand. The cover is nondescript save for a few abstract swirls bordering it. The original cover had the book’s title,Erleyan Folklore and Fairytales,branded into the leather. Unfortunately, when my book began falling apart last year, my mother had it rebound with this bizarrely dull cover.
I gratefully take the heavy book from her. “What would I do without you?”
She smirks. “You’d be a mess, of course.”
“I’mstilla mess. Utter chaos, in fact.” My cheek twitches, a smile threatening to break my resolve. Right now, however, I need to be the ice princess again.
I turn on my heels and open the door before sweeping out of the chamber and nearly colliding with a solid mass. My personal guard, Sir Callum Ferrer, is broad-shouldered, the top of his head not far beneath the top of the doorway. I’m taller than average, but he makeseveryonelook short. Excitement prickles at my skin as I gaze up at those piercing blue eyes beneath his cropped ashy blond hair. He’s a dream to look at, but I’ve seen what he can do with that sword on his hip.
