“I hope nothing is wrong,” my father said after paying his respects to the queen.
Queen Eva wore a yellow gown that skimmed her waist and spiraled to the floor, reminding me of the blind witch’s meringue delight cookies. Her necklace fanned out over her chest in multiple strands of diamonds and emeralds, and her black tresses were piled high over her dainty diamond crown.
“I’m certain all is fine,” Queen Eva said. “My guess is that he wants to practice his speech in front of the mirror before delivering it later this evening.”
“I look forward to hearing him speak,” my father said politely.
“As do we.” My mother closed the space between herself and our hostess.
“Cora. It has been a long while,” Queen Eva said flatly.
“Indeed, it has,” my mother said. “How is the lovely Snow White?”
“She is well,” Eva said, grinning just enough to bring out a youthful-looking dimple. “She’s a vivacious girl, the apple of her father’s eye. He lives to make her happy.”
“How nice. Clearly, Leopold has made you happy, as well.”
I held my breath, hoping my mother would continue behaving cordially.
Eva’s pale blue eyes flitted around the grandeur that surrounded us. “I cannot complain. It is a good life.”
“Yes, it must be,” my mother said, stepping forward to scrutinize Eva’s face. “I can tell you smile quite often. The lines around your eyes and mouth do not lie.”
The queen’s eyes darkened, but to her credit, she showed no other signs of bristling at my mother’s barbed comment. Instead, she looked beyond my mother and flashed me a tempered smile. “Regina, you’ve become a lovely young woman,” she said, not unkindly.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I said.
“I know a man who’ll be especially delighted to learn you’re in his presence.”
Who? I wondered. Could it be Jasper?
“Oh, really?” my mother asked. “One of your guests has an interest in making my daughter’s acquaintance?”
My heart skipped a few beats. I silently begged the queen not to name Jasper. If my mother knew I’d arranged a secret meeting with my art teacher, I didn’t even want to think about what would happen to him, or to me.
“Benjamin is his name,” Eva said offhandedly as she received the bluish-haired woman who’d been waiting behind us. I was so relieved Eva hadn’t said Jasper’s name, I almost twirled in circles.
“And he is a…?” my mother prompted, blocking the older woman from entering the ballroom.
“Close personal friend of mine. He’s staying with us here at the castle for several weeks.” Though she was responding to my mother, the queen fixed her gaze on me, adding, “And he’s a prince.”
The aromas of the food made my mouth water, and while my father and mother began circulating, no doubt hunting down the prince Queen Eva had mentioned, I slipped into the banquet hall. The tables were draped in fine white linen, adorned with ornate floral arrangements, garlands, and candelabra. A trio of ladies dressed in white aprons bustled between the kitchen and the impossibly long tables, making sure the silver serving dishes were laden with fruit, vegetables, and roasted meats, and the baskets bursting with an assortment of freshly baked breads. I placed a small baguette on my plate, followed by some grapes and berries. It was when I approached the roasted lamb that I accidentally bumped into a man.
“Oh, pardon me,” I said, scarcely glancing at him. “I must have been under the spell of the rack of lamb. It makes one abnormally clumsy, I hear.”
“Then I must be under the same spell every day,” he said, and though I’d already shuffled over to the dessert table, I could feel his eyes on me. A moment later, he materialized beside the colossal chocolate cake.
“You must be Regina,” the man said, tilting his head upward. The top of his head rose only to my nose. He looked to be about three times my age, with a floppy reddish mustache, a scraggly beard that seemed to be holding on to the point of his chin for dear life, and baggy folds of skin under his eyes that reminded me of Thaddeus’s. He dressed like a gentleman of means, complete with a ruffled cravat, a royal-blue jacket tailored to his barrel-shaped chest, and gleaming pointy-toed shoes. Yet he smelled like he’d taken a roll in a cabbage patch. I tried not to scrunch my nose and hoped the stench wouldn’t make me lose my appetite.
“Yes, I am,” I said. I knew I should ask him to introduce himself and engage in polite small talk as I drizzled sweet cream on top of a slice of cherry pie. But since no one other than the servants was around to witness my less-than-cordial behavior, I opted not to. Besides, I didn’t want to encourage him, as I knew my mother would track me down with the prince in tow any moment. I needed to hurry and eat before I’d be stuck dancing with him—or any other noblemen or royals turned up by my mother’s inexhaustible matchmaking efforts.
“Do you need any help carrying your plate?” he asked. He already had a large plate, a smaller one, and a cup in his hands, which made me curious as to how he planned to accomplish his proposed feat.
“If you’re a juggler, I’m afraid you have the costume all wrong,” I said.
He narrowed his eyes as if trying to interpret what I’d said. Realizing he wasn’t going to leave me alone, I sighed and faced him. “I can manage fine by myself, thank you.”
Luckily, Claire appeared in the banquet hall and came straight over. She wore an elegant rose-colored gown that matched her lips, and her hair looped around in a multitude of twists and braids. “Pardon me,” she said to the man, giving him a little curtsy before sweeping me away by my elbow. “I thought I might find you in here,” she said, drawing me into a warm embrace. “Have you ever seen such an exquisite castle? So many beautiful people, all in one place? And this feast! It’s enough to feed the entire kingdom.” She was grinning from ear to ear and practically hopping up and down. I smiled at my friend, realizing I’d felt just as giddy when I’d gone to my first ball two years earlier.
I’d hoped the man would finally see himself away from me, but he was suddenly right beside us. “Hello,” Claire said to him. “My name is Claire Fairchild. And you’re…?”
“Benjamin,” he said as he gave his britches a hitch.
“The prince?” I asked, hoping against all hope there were two men at the ball called Benjamin, and that this one was not the prince Queen Eva had told my mother about.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “I’ve been wanting to make your acquaintance for quite some time, Regina.”
“Oh,” was all I could say as I tried to suppress my instinct to run away as fast as possible in my ill-fitting shoes. Perhaps my mother wouldn’t find him after all, and instead she would discover someone closer to my own age and my own height, or who at the very least didn’t smell like a vegetable. Now that I knew who he was, I could at least do everything in my power to interfere with my mother’s finding him—and I was sure Claire would help, too.
However, my scheming was in vain, because just then my parents appeared at the entrance to the banquet room, and my mother pinned me with her gaze. My father made a beeline for the baskets of bread, which came as no surprise. Meanwhile, my mother called, “Prince Benjamin,” and sidled up to him as if they were old friends. “I see you’ve met my beautiful daughter, Regina. Isn’t she a vision?”
“She is,” Benjamin agreed, setting his drink on the edge of a table.
I exchanged a look with Claire, and while I was sure my eyes were riddled with desperation, hers twinkled with laughter. My mother grabbed hold of my shoulder and brought me back into her conversation.
“Well, maybe you should ask her to dance,” my mother said, brushing a stray curl off my face as she spoke to the older man. “That is, if you’re not already betrothed.”
Seeing as how her old nemesis was the one who’d mentioned him, I didn’t blame her for being extra cautious. I did blame her, however, for continuing the discussion when she could plainly see how undesirable he was.
&
nbsp; “I’m as free as a stag,” he said, taking a rather large bite of meat. “But I’m not surprised you thought as such. Gentlemen such as myself rarely wait as long as I have after the death of their wives before wedding another,” he mumbled as he chewed.
“I’m sorry to hear your wife passed,” my mother said, pulling a long face. “How long ago, may I ask?”
“Just shy of two and a half years.”
“Goodness, Benjamin. Forgive me for being blunt, but it seems to me you simply haven’t found the right lady to become your second wife.”
“Third,” he corrected her. “I’ve already had two. The first one perished in the Ogre Wars. The second just off and disappeared, without a trace.” Oh, how I wished I could disappear right then. “It was a blustery winter solstice, and she’d gone out with her friends. Only none of her friends ever saw her that night. One can only conclude she is no longer alive.”
“Yes, that would be the logical explanation,” my mother said. “I’m so sorry for your losses.”
“As am I,” I added, a little bit late.
He shrugged and, to my relief, used a napkin to dislodge the bits of food from his mustache. He grinned at me, his yellowish teeth gleaming. “Yes, I believe you’re correct. I need to meet the right lady. And I pray I do, for as you can see, I am not getting any younger.”
A snort escaped Claire, and I elbowed her behind Benjamin’s back to make her stop. Thankfully, the man was so immersed in his monologue he didn’t seem to notice, and Claire took my hint and disappeared.
“Then again, I am getting wealthier, and that is nothing to pooh-pooh,” he added, fingering the gaudy gold pendant that hung from his neck.
Almost as if by magic—or perhaps it was magic—the orchestra began a cheerful little waltz. “Regina likes to waltz,” my mother said, filling me with dread as a servant filled her cup with wine.
Benjamin sniffed, which made his mustache flutter in a most peculiar way. “May I have this dance, Regina?”
My mother beamed triumphantly at me as she took my plate and set it on the servant’s tray. The aproned woman whisked away my untouched food, and I wished I’d taken at least a bite of it, especially the cherry pie. At least then I would’ve had something nice in my belly and sweet in my memory to carry me through what was destined to be a loathsome dance.
I raised my eyes to my father, but he was queued up for a slice of mutton and probably had no idea what his daughter was being forced to do. Sadly, I didn’t think he would have rescued me, anyhow. One dance with the old widower wouldn’t kill me, I told myself. Unless I considered my slippers. I didn’t know how much longer my feet could stand being so severely squashed.
I had no choice but to take Benjamin’s proffered hand, which felt moist, even through my glove. He pulled a strange face, like a baby bird wanting to be fed, but with his head bowed down. At first I thought he might be choking, or even having a heart attack. And I admit a small part of me hoped the prince was suffering from some sort of medical condition. Nothing too deadly, but an ailment serious enough to keep me from having to dance with him.
When it dawned on me that Benjamin’s birdie act was actually an awkward attempt at kissing my hand, I didn’t know whether to pity him or myself. I decided to make it easy for him, and placed my hand beneath his puckered lips. My mother looked on with a spark of approval in her eyes as I ventured out into the ballroom at Benjamin’s side. When I turned to look at her once more, I saw my father ask her to dance, but she just shook her head and walked away.
It might have been my imagination, but when Benjamin led me onto the floor, it seemed as though the dancing couples parted like a giant colorful curtain, turning their heads and training their gazes on our every move. Although I felt my heart sink, I held my carriage straight and proper as my partner whispered, “One, two, threeeee; one, two, threeee,” loud enough for not only me, but anyone waltzing around us, to hear. I tried to think about something positive, such as meeting Jasper at the bridge later that evening. However, I hadn’t seen my art teacher, and I was beginning to wonder if he’d come to the castle at all.
The prince left much to be desired as far as dance partners went, what with his limp arms, his pathetic sense of rhythm, and his uncanny knack for stepping on my already throbbing toes. Behind my smile, I was silently cursing Benjamin. And when I ran out of curses for him, I began afresh, cursing my mother and Queen Eva in turn. Just when I thought the song would never end, the musicians finally showed mercy.
I curtsied and thanked Benjamin, already searching the crowd for Claire as I backed away from my dance partner. Where could she be? I wondered. The orchestra began a new song, and before I could slip away, the prince asked, “Would you do me the honor of another dance, Regina?”
“That’s very kind of you. However, I’m afraid my feet are beginning to ache,” I said, hoping that would be the end of it.
“I understand,” he said, and for some silly reason, I actually believed him. I began walking off the dance floor, still searching for my friend, when I noticed he was walking in step with me. “We don’t have to dance. We don’t have to stand at all. I know of a bench in the courtyard. It’s off the beaten path, so to speak, and we can sit under the moon and stars, and get to know one another better.” The thought of being alone with Benjamin made my stomach turn, and the way he raised his bushy brows sent a wave of nausea through it.
“I’ve been entertaining the notion of courting you,” he continued, puffing out his chest. “The two of us make a fine couple. And, as your mother so sensibly stated, up until now, I’ve not found the right lady to become my third wife.” I tried to turn my head before he saw that my eyes were bugging out, but he did notice—and grossly misinterpret—my response, because he quickly added, “But do not worry, Regina. Third and final wife. After all, you are younger than I, and you seem to be healthy. Therefore, I would wager you will be alive and well till the end of my years, and will have the great honor of tending to me until then.” As he chuckled and hitched up his pants, I once again felt the urge to run away. But out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a familiar rose-colored gown.
“There you are,” Claire said, clasping her hands behind her back and rocking on her feet. “I realize this is most unconventional, but I was hoping I could have this dance.”
Benjamin’s ruddy face lit up. “Why, of course,” he answered, giving the tip of his nose a quick dab with his handkerchief.
Unlike the prince, I wasn’t sure what to think of my friend’s boldness. Then again, cutting in on our dance was definitely less dramatic—and safer—than setting his shoes on fire.
“Thank you. Despite what the others say, you truly are a gentleman.” And with that, Claire surprised both Benjamin and me by taking my hands. She twirled me around the dance floor, paying no mind to the direction in which the other dancers were moving. We narrowly missed colliding with several couples. But it was the prince’s face—contorted in a way that made him look like a jester—that made us start laughing uncontrollably. I knew we had to get off the dance floor and out of the ballroom before anyone caught on to what had just happened.
Claire must have had the same thought, because she dragged me away, through the banquet hall, down a small corridor, and finally into the sweltering, smoky kitchen. A trio of cooks worked tirelessly, baking, roasting, and washing dishes. They only acknowledged us with slight nods as we zipped through into a windowless room in the back corner.
“What are we doing in the pantry?” I asked. It was a sizable space, double the dimensions of ours back home. The wooden shelves were stacked with produce, bags, and jars. I had no doubt King Leopold and Queen Eva’s pantry stored enough ingredients and supplies to feed a multitude of families for weeks on end. I shrank away from a ghastly spiderweb draped between the broomstick and a crate, praying its spinner wasn’t home. Still, it was a private nook, at least for the time being, and there was something exciting and yet cozy about hiding in there with Claire
. I slipped off my shoes and gloves and tossed them on the floor. I’d been laughing so hard my stomach ached and I felt breathless and lightheaded. It was wonderful.
“You’ll see.” Claire winked at me and then stood up on her tiptoes and reached high—over the shelves stacked with produce, baskets, and sacks. From the very top shelf, she brought down a large jar full of golden-brown liquid.
“What is that?” I asked.
Her rosy lips curved into a smirk, and her eyes glittered in the low light. “Cider.”
“How did you know it was up there?”
She shrugged. “Isn’t that where the good stuff is always kept?” She unscrewed the lid and held out the jar for me to take a swig. First I took a sniff. It smelled of apples, perhaps on the rotten side, and vinegar—a sweet, slightly spicy aroma that was not altogether repugnant.
“Oh, yes. Of course,” I said, pretending to be in the know. I had never tried cider before, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. I surely didn’t expect it to taste quite that good on my tongue or to burn so tantalizingly when it slid down my throat. It felt like slipping slowly into a steaming bath.
“What do you think?” Claire asked, watching me closely.
To be sure, I took another sip before handing it back to her. “It’s delicious,” I said, wiping my lips with the back of my hand. We passed the jug back and forth, each taking one more pull than our previous turn. At some point, we slid down the walls and rested our bottoms on the floor, despite its questionable cleanliness and our cumbersome, expensive gowns. I landed on one of my shoes, yanked it out from under me, and tossed it aside. We launched a whole new round of giggles when it landed on a pile of potatoes. Then Claire let out a very unladylike belch, and we were beside ourselves.
“Claire, you’re my hero. I cannot thank you enough for saving me from having to suffer through another dance with that man. My mother wants me to be queen someday and feels like the more royals I meet, the better my chances.”
Regina Rising Page 10
