Why had her father made her do this?
“So, Lydia,” she said as the seamstress held up yet another bolt of blue cloth. Was it the third? Or the fifth? She couldn’t remember. She simply needed a distraction before she really began to panic. “What is Prince Nicholas like? Does he have any scruples I should avoid discussing in order not to lose my head before tea?”
Lydia let out a laugh like bells. Elaina managed a tight smile as well, though she’d only been half joking.
“Of course not! Nicholas is utterly charming.”
So Lydia and the prince were on a first name basis, were they? Interesting. “That’s good to know.”
“You sound nervous.” Lydia paused for the first time and really looked at Elaina. “Whatever is the matter?”
Elaina drew herself up to her full height and stretched her arms out as directed by the seamstress. “I only wish to make a good impression.” But silently, she berated herself. She had lived through sea battles, creatures of the deep, and a vast array of diplomatic meetings. And now a tea was sending her into fits of nerves.
Lydia put her arm around Elaina’s waist and hugged her. “Worry about nothing of the sort. You are not only noble and the true heir of our family’s estate, but you are my cousin. And when Nicholas learns of this, he will make sure you are the most highly sought after luncheon partner of the day.”
Was that what Elaina wanted? She didn’t know anymore. All she did know was that tomorrow’s tea was sounding more and more like a naval battle, and Elaina was heading right for it with a borrowed ship of blue silk and absolutely no strategy of any sort. She was sailing blind.
* * *
Upon Lydia’s insistence, they visited not one or two but five more shops before Lydia pronounced Elaina’s wardrobe finished. Not that Elaina minded having a new wardrobe, of course. But in the back of her mind, she had been dreading and anticipating the return to her childhood home more than she truly cared about which shade of cream was en vogue for petticoats.
The drive to the manor took longer than she expected. Kaylem was a larger city than Elaina had first thought, and the manor was on the far eastern side of the city away from the wharf. At least, that is what she thought, not that her memory could be at all reliable as she hadn’t visited the home since she was five.
As the carriage rolled along, she peeked out of the windows to see the crowded, colorful shops and houses begin to give way to larger plots of land. The grounds were small enough to still see one’s neighbors on all sides, but the houses were far enough apart that there was room on each piece of land for small barns, some livestock, and expansive gardens on each side and behind.
And to the north, just as Lydia had promised, sat a palace that gleamed even in the light of the moon.
“We’re here!” Lydia called, snapping Elaina’s attention back to the street they had stopped on.
As she stepped out of the carriage, she was greeted by a white stone arch three levels high, reflecting the moon nearly as brightly as the palace. To the left and the right of the entryway each level boasted six windows on each side, thirty-six in all. White molding lined the roof like frosting on one of Simeon’s little cakes, and though the lawn itself was nearly too black to see, not a shadow was asymmetrical or out of place. Stirrings of a dangerous emotion moved somewhere in Elaina’s belly, and she set her face into an expression of cool serenity as she walked up the white steps toward the grand blue door housed beneath the arch.
She paused at the entryway to run her fingers lightly over the white flowers carved into the doorframe.
“Peonies.”
Elaina turned to see her aunt smiling sadly in the dim light of the lanterns hung on each side of the door.
“Theresa loved those. Actually, your mother never met a flower she didn’t like.” Charlotte came closer and traced the flowers as well. “I really do wish for you to be happy here, Elaina. When your father asked me to come and live here with Lydia, it was only ever meant to be temporary until you were of age to inherit the estate. As my husband had just died, it seemed a good opportunity to get a new start in a place that didn’t remind me of him quite so much as our old home did.” She finally looked up from the doorframe. “But it really is your home, and you deserve to feel as such.”
“I certainly hope you have no wishes to leave anytime soon.” Elaina summoned a smile, which somehow wasn’t as hard as she thought it might be. “I would have no desire to live here without you.” She paused. “You look like her. I mean . . . from the glimpses I can remember.” She shook her head. “Remembering her gets harder and harder.”
Charlotte opened her mouth to say something else, but Lydia bounded between them and grabbed Elaina by the hand. “Here I am ordering Roland about to put your new things away, and you can’t seem to get past the front step! Come inside! You need beauty rest! We have much to do in the morning!”
Charlotte laughed and rolled her eyes. “You’d better do as she says,” she called out to Elaina, who had already been dragged through the door and halfway up the stairs. “We’ll have more time for a tour tomorrow.”
“Little chance of that,” Lydia muttered and shook her head, still pulling Elaina up the winding staircase. “We have work to do.” They stopped on the third level, where Elaina was towed down the hall to the very last room on the left.
The door was already open, and the manservants were unloading not only Elaina’s chest but also several dozen bags and packages all over the floor and the vanity. A bevy of maidservants had begun to unpack their contents.
“How much do I really need?” Elaina gawked at all the purchases. They didn’t even include her gowns, which would be delivered in a few weeks.
“You’re a marchioness, my dear cousin. I’m only an earl’s daughter, which technically means you need to have a wardrobe even finer and larger than mine.” She put her hands on her hips. “And that would be a difficult feat for anyone to manage.”
Elaina gave an unladylike snort. “I think two or three gowns should do just fine. And perhaps two for formal events. But really—”
“Really you need to get your sleep.”
When Elaina quirked an eyebrow, Lydia laughed, her round face dimpling adorably. “I know. I can seem a bit . . . overexcitable. But truly, I’m glad you’re here. We won’t be back at the country manor in the south, which I’m not sure you’d remember but in any case is far larger than this one, I can assure you, until summer, and my closest friend moved to Solwhind last year. It’s been rather lonely here since.”
“Very well,” Elaina said. “Let me sleep tonight, and tomorrow you may do whatever you wish with me.”
Lydia squealed and clapped her hands. “Oh, and I’m supposed to tell you that this was your mother’s room before she and your father were married.” She paused. “It was your room, too, when you were small. Mother says she would have given you the big one, but we didn’t have enough time to—”
“This will do just fine.” Elaina felt her chest tighten. She smiled as best she could and bid her cousin goodnight. Then she turned to the servants. “You may also go.”
They paused in their work and exchanged curious looks.
“Truly,” she said. “I wish to unpack my own things. But thank you.”
As soon as they were gone, Elaina extinguished all the lights but a single candle. She carried the rest of the clothes and bags and boxes to a divan on the far wall and left them there to sort through the next morning. Then, once she had opened her sea chest to ensure her glass slippers were well, she rummaged through her belongings until she found her nightdress and bed slippers and put them on.
Her new room was large, much larger than she remembered. Nearly the size of the entryway downstairs, it was filled with all sorts of beautiful light pink furniture, chairs, sofas, a large vanity, and a four-poster bed near the door. But she had no wish to look further than she was required tonight. The smell alone was bringing back nearly overwhelming emotions, though Elaina couldn’t
tell exactly why or what those emotions even were. Like visions of shadows in a fog, she recalled fleeting pieces of familiarity. Happiness. Heartbreak.
She would explore the room . . . the whole house later. But the day had held enough change and trepidation to last her a week. She wasn’t quite sure she would be able to handle anything more. So she kept her candle burning only long enough to eat from the plate of food left on her little bedside table, then she snuffed the candle out before she could see anything else that might bring back more unwanted memories, particularly the small portrait of a woman that sat on the mantel of her fireplace.
Before Elaina went to sleep, however, she crawled onto the window seat, where she opened the window and looked up into the night sky. A cool sea breeze blew in, and she drank deeply of its briny scent and closed her eyes. It was almost like being back in her little cabin aboard the Adroit. Almost.
“Are you still there?” she whispered out her window.
Where else would we be? They sounded amused. It was at this window that you heard us first.
“I know. It’s just all so strange still.”
We know. And we’re here. As always.
“Thank you.” Elaina smiled and began to move back toward her bed, not bothering to shut her window again.
Elaina?
“Yes?”
Tomorrow, when you meet the prince . . . They paused.
She walked back to the window seat and looked up. “What about it?”
Don’t fall too hard.
6
Charming
Elaina didn’t remember falling asleep, but morning came abruptly when she was awakened by girlish squeals.
“Get up, sleepyhead! It’s tea day!”
Elaina groaned and tried to roll over, but Lydia somehow managed to yank her blankets off.
“It’s breakfast for you. Then a bath. You have a ridiculous number of freckles, probably from all that time in the sun, so we’ll need to scrub your face with lemon juice as well. Then to your hair and making sure my dress is hemmed to the proper length so you’re not tripping on it. Then some rouge, and—”
“How about we start with breakfast?” Elaina yawned.
“Oh! Yes. Of course. Off you go now.”
Elaina barely had time to finish her crumpet and fruit before Lydia had her off and running again. Only this time, it was to Lydia’s room where three servants were already preparing baths, gowns, accessories, and a somewhat frightening number of cosmetics on the vanity.
How they managed to spend hours being bathed and scrubbed relentlessly, stuck in every direction by hair pins, and painted like dolls, Elaina had no idea. She had never taken more than an hour in her life to become ready for the day, and even that was when she’d fallen ill. And yet, somehow, Elaina looked out the window to find that the morning sun had waxed late when her cousin yipped to all the servants that they had no more time for primping. The women must be on their way.
Elaina was fairly shoved out the grand front door of the home she had yet to explore, but she found respite from her cousin’s incessant chatter when they got into the carriage as Lydia seemed too excited to form coherent sentences. Elaina glanced at Aunt Charlotte, who simply shrugged and rolled her eyes, her smile amused.
The carriage wound its way through the lanes and up the gently sloping hill that the palace and its sprawling estate were settled on. The roads were well maintained, and the ride was impressively smooth.
According to her father, Ashland, though not large in land, was the second-most prosperous of kingdoms in the western realm, second only to King Everard’s country of Destin. And thanks to their new trade agreements with the merpeople and the merpeople’s sister country, Maricanta, Ashland’s wealth had only continued to grow. Elaina could see now that King Xander’s wealth hadn’t been exaggerated.
Though Kaylem touched the sea on the western shore, north of the wharf, the palace was the closest building to the ocean, sitting on the northwest tip of the entire peninsula. Though Elaina had certainly never entertained thoughts of herself inhabiting the palace walls, as she was sure most girls of Ashland did, she had to admit that the palace couldn’t have been situated in a more superb location. Rosington Manor was more than grand enough for her taste, but having a home bordering the ocean would be paradise.
If the land was ideal, the palace itself was just as appealing. Unlike many of the castles Elaina had seen in her travels, the palace was more like a vast manor, just as Lydia had described. Brilliant white walls were almost blinding where the morning light touched them. A tower crowned each of the four corners, but the rest of the palace was simple. Still, there was an elegance in its sprawling grandeur, five levels tall with hundreds of windows that reflected the sun even more brightly than the whitewashed walls.
And unlike most of the other castles she’d seen, there were few walls surrounding the palace. A single white wall nearly twelve feet tall ran around the palace’s perimeter on the southern and eastern sides that led to the city, but as their carriage moved up the winding road to the palace, she could make out that the palace’s western and northern lawns had no walls, backing up to the ocean itself. Of course, that didn’t mean the palace was without protection. Elaina knew from her time with her father that dozens of traps and other dangers lurked unseen beneath the shallow waves, should anyone try to sail up to the palace directly.
After being allowed entrance through a grand white gate that seemed nearly as tall as the Adroit’s tallest mast, Elaina and her cousin and aunt were handed down from the carriage and escorted to a short line of people that led up to a smaller open gate that seemed to open up to some sort of lawn. Elaina toyed with her wooden bracelet as they neared the elegant lady and tall young man greeting people at the head of the line.
“Marchioness Elaina Starke of Rosington Manor!”
Pulled from her musings, Elaina started when she heard her name announced. Yes, she was technically a lady by title. A very high one at that. But her title had never meant much to her out at sea. For out upon the waves, she was the proud daughter of Admiral Baxter Starke. And that was fine with her. But here, she was the lady of her own home, despite the fact that she hadn’t yet walked its full length since she was five. Besides, holding the title that had rightfully belonged to her mother made her feel like an imposter.
But this was no way to present the Starke name. So she held her head high and put on her most practiced smile.
“Your Majesty. Your Highness.” She dipped into her lowest curtsy.
“Elaina, I cannot tell you how lovely it is to see you again.” Then the queen put her hand over her mouth, her blue eyes widening a bit. “Oh! I do apologize for my familiarity. I was very close with your mother. It feels only natural to call you like the little girl I knew you as.” She glanced up and down Elaina’s person once. “Though I can see you are a little girl no longer.” Her smile was wistful. “How many years are you now?”
“Seventeen. And there is nothing to forgive, Your Majesty. I am honored that you remember my mother so.” I wish I did. But she didn’t add that particular thought.
“You look so much like her,” the queen whispered. But before Elaina could respond, the tall young man beside her cleared his throat.
“Lady Starke,” he said, bowing and taking her hand. “I am glad to make your acquaintance again as well.”
“Again?” Elaina echoed in confusion.
“Oh yes!” The queen clasped her hands and looked warmly at the young man. “Lady Theresa used to visit us often and bring you along with her.”
“I believe the last time we met, you put a tadpole in my tea,” the prince said, a gleam in his eyes.
Elaina’s mouth fell open. Her father had never taught her how to recover from this kind of faux pas. But the prince just laughed. The sound was playful.
“It livened up a party that had been rather boring, if I recall.” He leaned forward, smirking. “Quite a feat. Making a tea party enjoyable for boys of seven is ne
xt to impossible.”
It was then that Elaina realized what striking blue eyes Prince Nicholas had, similar to the queen’s but even brighter. How often had she wished for eyes like his, rather than her green-blue ones that couldn’t seem to decide which color they really were. But really, he was quite striking in many ways. His dark brown hair, also the same color as the queen’s, was cut short enough to stick out rebelliously in every direction, and his mouth was pleasant, quirking up as though he were enjoying a personal joke.
“So where have you been all these years?” he asked. The queen nudged him hard, but Elaina smiled.
“Traveling with my father aboard the Adroit, helping him conduct the king’s business.”
“Nicholas, no need to pry,” the queen murmured.
“I would love to hear more about these adventures,” he said, taking a step closer.
Elaina was tempted then and there to begin telling him all about life at sea, but a glance behind her at the growing line reminded her of propriety. Also, she noticed, Lydia’s face was an odd shade of gray.
“I would be honored, sire.” Elaina curtsied once more. “But I wouldn’t wish to inconvenience your other guests.”
“Oh . . . of course.” Prince Nicholas finally seemed to notice the lengthening line as well. “But you will remember our talk?”
Elaina laughed. “I look forward to it.”
She waited some yards away as Lydia and Aunt Charlotte paid their respects to their hosts as well. Lydia’s brown eyes shone as she spoke to the prince in hushed tones. But their greeting was far shorter than Elaina’s had been, and when they left the receiving line to join her, Elaina couldn’t help feeling that despite Lydia’s smile, something wasn’t right.
Cinders, Stars, and Glass Slippers: A Retelling of Cinderella Page 5
