Rakel lowered her hands. “Nothing. I’m fine, thank you.” She took the stew and devoured it, feeling much better with a full stomach.
Phile helped her change into a fresh dress and braided her hair for her.
“Ta da!” Phile showed Rakel a mirror. She had pulled Rakel’s snow white hair into a complex braid that draped down the crest of her head, giving her a rougher, almost warrior-like edge.
“Thank you.” Rakel stood and smoothed her skirts, nodding in satisfaction when her legs held her. Phile had also convinced her to wear one of the creations Inga—Gerta’s mother—had made for her. The dress was in two pieces—an overcoat of night-sky blue, and a silver-white under-dress that matched Rakel’s hair. The overcoat was reminiscent of a soldier’s jacket—tight in the shoulders, arms, torso and waist, and then draped over the flowy white underskirt. It had gauzy, stiff white trim that reminded Rakel of frost, and was embroidered with a swirling snowflake pattern.
“Of course,” Phile chirped. “Are you ready?”
Rakel adjusted one of her sleeves and nodded.
“Everyone will be thrilled to see you. You’re sure you’re fortified?”
“Yes, though I thank you for your concern.”
Phile bumped her head against Rakel’s and gave her a quick hug—holding Foedus uncomfortably close to Rakel’s throat as seemed to be her custom. “Always,” she said. She took two quick steps across the room. “This should be good. I don’t think Farrin has seen you in anything except for your horribly baggy cloaks and boring Bunads.”
Rakel blinked. “What do you mean?”
Phile ignored her and flung the door open. “She’s awake—and decently cared for!” she announced.
Rakel brushed her bangs out of her eyes and stepped into the street. The soldiers patrolling the area and the villagers going about their work stopped to smile at her.
“Princess!”
“You’re awake!”
“You are so beautiful…”
“Good job smashing that Chosen leader, eh?”
Rakel fought a blush under their close scrutiny and open delight. “Thank you—and thank you for your support.” She couldn’t find the strength to look at Farrin as everyone cooed over her.
“It was our delight.”
“You are our Snow Queen!”
“You look all proper and royal—makes me hope for the future!”
She finally risked it and peeked at Farrin. He was leaning against her cottage, a hint of an indulgent and wistful smile curling his lips. The slight furrow of his eyebrows and the light in his eyes, however, were saturated with gentle longing.
Unnerved, Rakel fixed her gaze on the ground and twitched her outer dress to give her hands something to do.
“The princess is awake?”
Rakel, hearing General Halvor’s voice, turned to him, grateful for the distraction. “General.”
General Halvor stopped in mid-step and stared at her for one moment, then directed his gaze to Phile. “Your work?”
Phile batted her eyes. “You don’t like it? How cruel, Halvor!”
“It isn’t practical,” General Halvor said.
Rakel peered down at her dress in worry and almost jumped when Phile whacked Halvor in the chest.
“Stop worrying, Captain Mother. A woman has to dress up occasionally, even in times of battle,” Phile said.
“Princess!” Oskar plowed his way through the crowd. “I am glad to hear you have awakened—and you look as fresh and lovely as new snow.”
