Twice Upon A Time (Unfinished Fairy Tales #2)(25)
Wow. I could hold my own fashion show, Victorian style.
With her typical efficiency and competence, Amelie dresses me in a gorgeous lavender bodice with a row of diamond buttons running down the front and layered skirts trimmed with exquisite laces and ribbons. My hair is twisted into an elegant chignon, held together by numerous pearl-tipped pins. My collarbone and arms are powdered, and a glittering diamond pendant that matches my buttons is fastened around my neck. It feels like I’m going to attend some old-fashioned beauty pageant. I might even be crowned princess of the—hang on, I’m already a princess.
When I join Edward later, the air seems to be sucked out of my lungs. He’s dressed in a black silk suit and white shirt, a pristine white cravat around his neck, and a single red rose peeking from his coat pocket. Basically, everything about him is immaculately done. It’s like he’s taking me to the prom.
“Um.” For a moment, I’m unsure what to say.
He smiles, seemingly amused at my cluelessness, and holds out his arm. “May I have the honor of escorting you to dinner, my lady?”
I can’t help it, I burst out laughing. “The pleasure is all mine, my lord.” I try to sound as snobbish as possible, but I have trouble trying not to contain my laughter.
He leans toward me, but not before glancing at Amelie, who promptly leaves the room. Was that a cue to give us some privacy?
I withdraw my hand, but he slips a folded paper between my fingers.
“It’s a reminder,” he whispers. “Try to memorize as much as you can.”
* * *
When we arrive at the dining room, my nervousness threatens to overwhelm me again. The table only seats about ten, but still, it’s the fanciest place I’ve ever been to. White tablecloths are covered by an extra layer of crimson velvet, candlesticks burn in silver holders, crystal vases overflow with roses and ferns, tableware is polished and glistening, and of course, an entourage of servants stand ready in royal crimson-and-gold uniforms and the most banal expressions I’ve ever seen, like they’re part of the furniture.
Okay, Kat. You can do this. Edward had covered royal protocol on the train.
Who am I kidding? I’ve already forgotten half of what he said. And given the situation, it’s going to be even harder to remember.
Trying hard not to act like a country bumpkin, I move toward the dinner table with the grace of a robot. A servant pulls out my chair, and I sit down gingerly. I shake the napkin—a bit more vigorously than necessary—and spread it across my lap. Using the napkin as a cover, I glance at the cheat sheet that Edward created for me.
The king and queen. I’ve seen them at the wedding, so even though they’ve shed the crowns, I can still recognize them. Plus, Edward told me they always occupy the head of the table. The king is well past middle-age, with graying hair and evident crows-feet, but his features are still handsome enough to star in a Bond film. It’s obvious where Edward got his looks. The queen, on the other hand, isn’t dazzlingly beautiful, but she has a pleasant face that makes her seem likable and approachable. I feel slightly more at ease. My in-laws seem nice enough.
I also have no problem recognizing Henry right away. Even without Edward’s note, I know from the book that his cousin has doe-like eyes and curly hair. Henry smiles at me, a sweet, affectionate smile that immediately makes me warm up toward him.
Next to Henry sits a woman with dangling earrings and peacock feathers in her hair. From the bossy way she interacts with Henry, she must be the duchess, also known as Lady Petunia. She’s the one who is greatly opposed to Elle’s relationship with Henry in The Ugly Stepsister. Our gaze meets briefly, and she deals me a stiff nod.
I consult my note again and locate Duke Philip (Edward’s oldest cousin) and Constance (Philip’s wife), along with a few other dukes and duchesses.
“Welcome home,” the king says in an affable tone.
I bite my lip hard, as though gnawing on my lip will calm my nerves. Edward grasps my right hand under the table. He looks at me, his gaze steadfast and calm. “Relax,” he mouths.
It’s easy for you to say that, I want to retort. The fanciest dinner I’ve ever been to is this French restaurant that Ryan treated us to in Chicago. Paige and I were a bit overwhelmed, but we eventually loved it and even made fun of the numerous forks and spoons. This meal I’m sitting down to now—let’s just say a dinner with the president seems more palatable.
It’s hard enough getting through dinner with all those royals sitting around you, trying to fake it like you’re one of them. Even harder is that the tableware is mostly made of china and crystal—why can't they use good ol’ plastic or stainless steel or wood? Wait, they probably haven’t even invented plastic or stainless steel.
I manage to get through the appetizer and soup without any mishap. I copy what everyone does—breaking off bread instead of biting into it, and using the pieces to wipe off soup remains. Since I’m afraid that something stupid will come out of my mouth, I chew my food and pretend that I’m just choosing not to speak, but if I did, I’d say something brilliant.
“Kat,” the queen says with a twinkle in her eyes. “How did you find Enrilth?”
I have no choice but to answer. Luckily, this is an easy one. “I loved it. It’s such a pretty village, and the house is so cozy, it reminds me of a bed-and-breakfast place we stayed in at Itha . . .” Edward nudges my elbow. Dang, I’ve been babbling about my own world.