Page 15 of Winter Gods & Serpents

Too tired to argue I leaned onto the bath, relaxing to its comfort. “So it shall be, Lysander’s child.”

After the bath Penelope directed me to the dressing chamber. Massive, fit for a princess just not for this one. I’d never seen so much colour even on rainbows. I spun on my toes without being able to hide the cringe of colour sickness.

“Absolutely not,” I said throwing to the ground what she’d picked for me to wear. A washed-out green dress with layers and layers of ruffles, a high neck bodice in some strange lace and long bell sleeves with a yellow ribbon around the waist.

Pen cradled the sickly cloth as if I’d injure a child. “The consort chose them for you.”

I cringed. They did look her taste for sure. “I will not look like a solstice tart, a jacket and breeches will do.” My thoughts grew horrid at the image of me parading in that absolutely ridiculous pile of ruffles.

“That will not happen, you are a royal not a soldier,” Nia’s voice filled the chamber. Leaning against the door her arms crossed in her chest, she was dressed head to toe in a navy jacket, tight breeches and black boots, a guard’s uniform.

“That, I will wear the same,” I pointed hurriedly to Nia’s attire.

She shook her head in objection. “You will stand out like a nose wart if you parade around ordinarily in this attire,” Nia remarked, twisting her lips in disapproval.

“What?” I exclaimed. “And that green pile of horse shit won’t?” My words seemed to have been harsh for Penelope’s soft ears since she gawked at me in horror.

“I am not saying it won’t, it might will be the right type of attention. You are a princess here after all, aren’t you?” Nia asked, raising an eyebrow and my mouth gaped open in disappointment. She really expected me to be dressed like a peacock. Knowing Nia, this probably amused her.

Along with Penelope, they both hovered over a chest loaded in different dresses. All I saw was ruffles, icky colour, and more ruffles which I absolutely refused to wear, unless I joined a circus.

“Penelope, are all my mother’s belongings sealed in her room?” I asked, nervously biting my lip. My mother had never worn the typical pompous gowns of Isjord, she was always dressed comfortably in silky flowy dresses that flew around her like clouds. I had always adored them how she looked like a spring dove, she and I were now similarly the same body.

She nodded and hastily left the room almost jumping.

“I would eat my limbs to see you in that one,” Nia pointed towards the green dress. I grabbed a pillow and threw it with force toward her and she extended a palm stopping the pillow floating mid-air. Nia was Adriatian, she could materialize and transport herself places within seconds and freeze shadows along with their owners. She was what they called an Umbra, shadow wielders. Adriatian Aura were able to do much more, but Nia had left for Olympia when she was no more than nine years of age. Her powers never developed fully and always took a toll on her when she used them for extensive time. Not that she particularly enjoyed using them anyhow—her identity was what she strayed furthest away from. She had denied that part of herself for a long time, still continued to do so.

Footsteps approached from my bedroom and Nia pulled her hand back making the floating pillow drop to the floor. Penelope looked between us in confusion and laid down several of my mother’s gowns. My chest rose in excitement. My skin electric at the feel of them. I remembered—remembered how my mother walked wearing them, how she sat, how she floated around in her gracious smile. A piece of her, that is all I had left now, pieces of them.

“They are mostly in good condition, except a very few. I can have them brought here, all of your mothers belongings if you wish?” she asked carefully looking at me.

I cupped her cheeks, planted a kiss on her forehead. “Thank you.”

I headed toward the dinning chambers wearing a silky long sleeved emerald silk gown that came tight to my waist and flowed swiftly touching the floor, its neckline hid my neck scar, my hair loose on my back and two of my mother’s silver beaded pearl pins on each side of my head. The first servant that saw me covered her mouth to hide her gaping, was it the dress, my scar or my bare feet peeking from under my dress when I took a step? An old habit of mine, I liked feeling the ground beneath my feet, it calmed me down.

When we reached the dining chamber doors my feet hesitated and I spoke over my shoulder to Nia, “Do I have to?”

She rolled her eyes and pushed me forward. “Try not to offend too much, keep death threats to your head, curses out of your mouth and if you can’t be respectful, just glare at them not voice the disrespect,” she warned. “We don’t wish to be banished to some dungeon on your first day back.”

Soldiers announced my presence and the doors opened revealing the happy family of Krigborn.

“My kingdom for the dungeons, the dungeons have my vote.”

“Unless you can enchant a mouse with your sass to get you inside your father's court then I suggest you move,” she said before giving me a shove inside.

My stomach rolled, I tried to calm myself while moving inside the massive dining chambers. The table and chairs painted gold, lavishly tens of types of dishes laid ahead, fruit, meat, fish and all sorts of luxuries even fresh flowers stood in the middle. What idiot fetched my father flowers across the kingdom? I almost laughed at the thought of a poor boy having to travel that far only to get this flowery tyrant some peonies. The ceiling adorned with grand gilded chandeliers, walls draped in red curtains adorned in the Isjordian royal insignia, the same ghastly paintings as those on the corridors were positioned between them. Bet they startled a guest or two before. Had my father ordered them to be positioned there on purpose, to choke some poor emissary? My eyes landed on the faces sitting across the long table and I sneered involuntarily. The royal consort Moreen and her two children, Reuben and Fren sat on one side, my father at the top, my uncle opposite them. What a sight.

Father stood abruptly, his eyes drawn wide tracing me top to bottom flashing with some form of wild astonishment. He took a few absent moments just staring at me before silently sitting back down.

The old consort stood approaching me. Moreen always played pretend kind to me for whatever reason I still wouldn’t care. She was my father’s consort for years before he married my mother, even had Reuben a few years before Eren. She was not of royal or highborn blood, born to an unblessed merchant in Grasmere, therefore she could never marry my father. Of course, in any other circumstance both would have been hung, blessed and unblessed were oil and water, to laws and realm we stood above them in every form or way. To marry one was to sully choice of gods in leaving them in their nature of unexpected and unworthiness. However, my father had broken worst rules. Moreen was a shadow in his court, a wicked one at that, just as all unblessed were described as. Rangy and veiled in human age, her blonde hair gripped and pinned in colourful beads at the top of her head like a peacock, nothing impressive compared to other kingdoms idea of a king's mistress.

She cupped my cheeks with her svelte long fingers to study me a moment. Her thin lips twisted in an unpleasant half-moon curve. “With Krig’s blessing, to Hodr heaven. Welcome back, Snowlin,” she greeted in an eerie calm voice. Didn’t she tire from the play pretend? It was one thing for an unblessed Vrammetheni to play a blessed but to pose as a caring mother figure was another form of depraved. She gripped my chin, tilting my head up to meet her almost hollow washed-out blue irises demanding for a polite answer.

Once I had let her, but once I had been a scared child. I wrapped my hands around her wrists, her smile dropped wincing at the force. “With his blessing, might the burning hells welcome you back, Moreen. I see you have withered like the old crone you are,” I said, giving her a tight-lipped smile. Slipping by her gawking expression I headed to great her spoiled produce.

“Dearest uncle,” I nodded and continued past him as he returned the greeting warily.

Reuben and Fren studied me cautiously, their white pearly heads shone under the candle flames, their features thin like their mothers, eyes a washed blue and they were so pearly white like snow spirits, pampered like wooden dolls in their ruffles, beads, feathers and diamonds.