Twice Upon A Time (Unfinished Fairy Tales #2)(24)
The carriage stops at a stupendously huge courtyard. Edward takes my hand and squeezes my fingers. He doesn’t say anything, but the warm pressure implies that he will stand by me, no matter what happens. Feeling slightly more reassured, I mimic his posture—straight back, raised chin, steady gaze—and try to walk as steadily as I can in my huge gown.
The palace is a maze of winding stairs, marble corridors, arched galleries, and ornate rooms. I try very hard not to gawk when we enter through the main entrance. The gates are huge, just like a movie’s, and require at least four people to pull them open. A grand staircase inlaid with gold and carpeted in crimson takes my breath away. Servants either bow or curtsy to us when we pass. Hopefully, my face doesn’t give too much away. It’s not easy pretending that I’ve lived in this palace for months.
Then, for what seems like hours, we stop outside a cream-gold door. Edward signals to Bertram, who produces a set of jingling brass keys.
“Is this our room?” I ask.
“Our rooms, in fact,” he says, unlocking the door. “Welcome home, darling.”
I put a hand over my mouth to stifle my gasp. In front of me is a beautiful sitting room that wouldn’t look out of place at the Ritz. It’s a suite, actually, and as Edward guides me through the rooms, I truly feel privileged.
My jaw drops at sight of the bedroom. The ceiling is so high that I feel like a dwarf. The bed is so much grander than the one in Enrilth, with its ivy green headboard, embroidered gold heraldry, and a violet satin canopy complete with golden tassels. Heat engulfs my mind when I imagine the possibility of Edward getting into that bed with me and letting down the canopy and . . .
“We have separate bedrooms,” Edward says, as though sensing my concern. “Previously, I thought I would end up with Katriona Bradshaw, and I was glad that we need not share a bed. But now . . .” He stares at me as though I am on the dinner menu. “I wish I had not agreed to this traditional layout.”
I flush at the implication of his words. Geez, Kat, you’re past twenty. You’re not an inexperienced school girl. It’s ridiculous to be so easily affected by his words, which aren’t even explicit.
“This place is beautiful,” I say, glad that my voice is steady, normal. “But it’s too grand. I don’t think I can be comfortable here. I’m too awed at so much splendor.”
“Perhaps this will make you feel more at home.”
He leads me to an adjoining room. It’s furnished like an office, with a cherrywood desk and bookshelves that cover an entire wall. To my delight, there’s a comfy-looking padded seat installed under the windows. Outside is a magnificent view of the palace gardens. Sunlight streams into the room, illuminating the silken cushions on the window seat and the rosewood floor. I could imagine myself sitting on that seat, knees drawn up, a book propped up in front of me.
“Oh . . .” I breathe, feeling seriously overwhelmed. “Look at that window, and the view down there—it’s too freaking awesome. I could stay here all day long.”
“You could stay here forever.”
Oh, how I wish he wouldn’t say those heart-melting things. It makes me feel horribly heartless. Every time he flirts, every time I look up and catch him staring at me with desire in his eyes, it feels like I have to love him or the world would come to an end.
I turn away from the window. No matter how breathtaking the view is, it belongs to a royal family, a family that I am still reluctant to associate with.
“Your Highness.” Amelie’s crisp voice floats into the room. “Pardon me, but it’s time to get dressed for dinner.”
I glance at my attire. I’m wearing a lovely apple green gown embroidered with white roses, and I have a string of pearls around my neck. My hair isn’t as tidy as when Amelie arranged it in the morning, but it’s hardly inadequate for a meal.
“We’re dining with my parents,” Edward says, as though guessing what I’m thinking.
“The Duke of Somerset will be attending as well,” Amelie adds. “It’s best that you wear something more formal.”
In Enrilth, I ate with Edward most of the time, whether it may be breakfast served in the bedroom, dinner in the dining room, or a picnic in daisy-dotted fields. The thought of dining with his parents and other nobles, when my memories of them are non-existent, makes me anxious and nervous.
Edward looks at me with a concerned expression. “Are you feeling all right, Kat?”
I have a sudden urge to plead absence on an upset stomach or a splitting headache. His eyes seem to indicate that if I were less inclined to attend dinner, he’ll think up some excuse for me.
No. On the train, Edward had told me we usually have breakfast with his parents in the morning, and occasionally, we must receive foreign guests or high-level dignitaries. Even if I can get out of this dinner, there will be countless other non-private meals. I might as well deal with this sooner than later.
“Perfectly fine.” I attempt to appear confident by smiling at him. “I’ll see you in a moment. It won’t do to keep the king—our parents—waiting.”
Edward looks both pleased and relieved, especially when I say ‘our parents.’
Amelie leads me to my bedroom and into the changing room, which looks like a salon for trying on wedding apparel. Dozens—no, hundreds—of gowns hang from racks on three sides of the room. Gowns of every color on a palette. Gowns with lace, ribbons, frills, and even puffed sleeves that look as big as balloons. Gowns that range from simple to sophisticated, for every purpose imaginable.