Page 44 of A Cake of Cherries and Charm

The seamstress watched her warily for another moment before sharply telling her assistants to gather their things. “We will give Lady Snow privacy,” she said stiltedly.

Once they were gone, Natalie rolled her eyes. “I thought I might have to pick her up and drop her into the hall myself.”

“I would have happily done it for you,” Rosie said wryly. “I’ll admit that I’m not terribly fond of that woman.” Then she paused. “But how did you–”

“My maidservant told me that a scullery maid told her that a servant told her that he had been informed by one of the dressmaker’s assistants. Apparently, Miss Marianne instructed the seamstress to alter your dress so that it wouldn’t fit.” She laid the gown she was carrying down on the bed, her eyes suddenly sparkling with mischief. “But that’s well enough. Because I have a better one!”

With that, she held up the dress, and Rosie felt her breath leave her. For as lovely as her blue bridesmaid dress had been, this one was most definitely better.

“Pink is your color,” Natalie declared. “So I found one of my old gowns and had my seamstress fit it for a wedding.”

“Oh, it’s perfect!” Snow clapped her hands. “Rosie, you’ll match the bouquet!”

“Natalie.” Rosie shook her head in disbelief. “How do you do these things?”

Natalie only grinned. “You have your secrets, and I have mine. Now get dressed! You’ll both be needed shortly in the palace chapel!”

Rosie feared that the troll might have discovered her cake in the night, but to her relief, it was sitting safe and sound at the center of the banquet table just before the wedding.

With the exception of Snow, everyone involved in the wedding was ordered about by the queen after that, and made to practice positions and movements three times over. Snow was exempt because everyone knew the groom couldn’t be allowed to see the bride, who would be led down the aisle by the king.

Jonathan was there, but he refused to make eye contact with anyone except his brother. Rosie prayed that he would look at her, and if he did, that he would understand that she understood. But he didn’t look at her, and she wasn’t sure she could say all she needed to with a glance even if he did. So she sighed and did as she was told.

Which was easy enough until it was time to practice the procession, where Frederick’s groomsman had to escort the bridesmaid out to the altar.

The queen clearly hadn’t thought ahead enough to realize that Jonathan would be the one to walk Rosie to the altar. It was almost funny, actually, watching the queen attempt to hide her contempt as Jonathan stiffly held out his arm to Rosie. And Rosie had nothing else to do but place her arm on his.

They remained as distant as possible while still touching, but she was hyperaware of both his warmth and his stature. When they finally reached the end of the aisle, he bowed slightly as she moved to the bride’s side of the room, and she was able to breathe deeply once again.

Three times they had to practice this until the clergyman declared that it was time to retire to the preparation rooms and to allow the guests to enter.

There would have been far more guests present, from what Snow told Rosie, but as they’d changed the date at the last minute, a number of the invitees hadn’t been able to arrive in time. Some would even be arriving after the wedding finished to find that the event they’d set out for was already over. But there wasn’t much to be done for this, as the troll’s threat haunted everyone involved.

All too soon, it was Rosie’s turn to be led down the aisle by the man that had somehow won her heart. Practice had been surreal enough, but now–surrounded by people on every side–Rosie couldn’t help feeling like she was living an odd vision of what might have been as she made her way toward the altar with Jonathan at her side.

The spell this briefly put her under was broken, however, when she nearly laughed at the sight of Miss Marianne’s face as they reached the front of the room. Rosie couldn’t tell if the woman was more offended by seeing Rosie on Jonathan’s arm, or by the fact that Rosie wore a beautiful dress that fit. Her humor, however, died when she glanced up at Jonathan’s face to see him looking more miserable than ever before.

What was really important, though, was that the ceremony went off without any trolls or interruptions. This was probably because the fairy godmother had a seat of honor in the front row of the chapel with the royal family. She sat resplendent and glowing in her joy, but Rosie noticed that she held her wand at the ready. And Rosie doubted that even the troll would be so brazen as to interrupt the ceremony right under a fairy’s nose.

The following feast was not so peaceful. No sooner had toasts been made and Rosie had begun to cut the cake for the couple of honor than, in a flash of sparks and lightning, the troll appeared in all her green, toadstooled wonder.

Guests shrieked and tried to scramble back and the fairy godmother raised her wand as the soldiers ran toward them. But Rosie was ahead of them all. She had been expecting something like this. So when the troll appeared beside her, she took a little square of cake that she’d already cut out and shoved it into the troll’s mouth.

Snow and Jonathan stared at her as though she’d lost her mind, but Rosie only watched fiercely as the troll chewed.

“Do you like the taste of yellowbelles?” she challenged her. “I warned you not to come today.”

But the troll only swallowed before giving her a wide, toothy smile. “I love it.”

Rosie stared at the troll in horror. “But… you dislike yellowbelles!”

The troll only grinned more widely. “I dislike them, yes. But you mixed their flavor into the cake wonderfully. And I’m only really unable to stand them when they’re grown by the fairies and infused with magic.” She shrugged. “Still, your work was sneaky. And I heartily approve of such conniving.”

Rosie looked helplessly at Jonathan. He was half standing, his hand on his sword, but the fairy godmother put a hand out to stay him, and he seemed unsure of what to do.

That made two of them.

“The forest, though…” Rosie racked her memories for the last few times they’d met. “You left when I threatened you with the yellowbelles!”