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“Your Highness,” Lord Sachswild said as he and his son straightened, “what an honor to be invited to such a beautiful festival.”
“And to lay eyes on such a beautiful princess,” his son added, smiling at me. My face remained dead serious. The young lord, confused, looked over to his father for support.
“Beautiful indeed, and maybe generous enough to grace my son with a dance.”
Pretty straightforward, I had to give him that.
I said nothing, just stared at them.
“Thank you, Lord Sachswild,” my father broke in. “Your visit joys us.”
Disappointment was written all over their faces as they bowed again and rejoined the crowd.
“I see we have invited families of lower ranks?” I said to Wimfred, loud enough for my father and those standing close enough to hear.
Wimfred looked at my father, unsure whether he was supposed to answer me.
“I invited the most honorable families. That’s all there is to it,” my father answered for him. His voice was low, his message for my ears only.
I raised my chin a little higher. “At least Wimfred could have arranged the introductions according to custom to avoid wasting my time. First kings, then the grand dukes, then the princes, the earls, the barons, and then the gentry.”
“I’m afraid the North doesn’t have all those ranks, Your Highness,” Wimfred said. “You are either king, noble, or nothing.”
“What?” My eyes widened.
But Wimfred was already facing the next family. He knocked his silly rod on the floor again, harder this time, as if he wanted to upset my sensitive nerves. I frowned.
“Lord and Lady Grundig and their son and daughter, Gustav and Wilma,” Wimfred announced.
“What, no Grazelands this time? How would I feed the cows?” I mumbled. My father’s eyes narrowed.
A well-fed older man and his plain-looking wife stepped forward with a girl in her late teens and a boy barely ten. Their clothes were heavier on the fur than the elegant leather some of the other families wore.
“Your Highness,” Lord Grundig addressed my father with a bow, then turned to me. “To be blessed to lay eyes on such beauty in dark times like these,we thank you.”
My father smiled. “Let me thank you for coming the long way from one of the vastest lands in the North.” He threw me a look as if he’d known I had already misjudged a golden goose for a pig.
“You flatter us,” the lady said, her long nose moving when she talked. “My son here”—she pushed the young boy with short brown hair forward—“has often dreamed of marrying a princess as fine as your daughter.”
My eyes settled on the shy boy, who was being held in place by his mother’s hand on his arm. I had a million things to say, none of them kind, to end the hopes of this family’s dream alliance. It was an outdated practice to marry children or arrange marriages before their outings as adults. Not unthinkable—the tradition was still upheld in some parts of the country—but still, the thought was laughable to me.
Shall he sit on my lap when we take our rides through the countryside?was the first thing that came to my mind, but looking at the boy—his eyes fixed to the floor, daring only to blink at me in darting intervals—I couldn’t say it.
“If I decide to dance tonight, at least I have found a worthy partner,” I said instead.
The boy blushed and gave a smile that would have warmed my heart had I allowed myself to have one tonight.
The room broke into soft laughter as my father smiled fondly at me.
Foolish, foolish, Mina!What was I doing? I was only encouraging my father, confirming in his mind that this was a good idea, that I would warm to his idea of marriage after all.
Your plan, Mina, remember? Or do you want to be married off before the night is over? Cast away to some cold barbaric lands to see your father’s kingdom ruled and ruined by a husband someday? No—never! You are the Night Queen tonight. Don’t forget it.
The Grundigs bowed once more, then cheerfully moved to the side to rejoin the crowd. Wimfred announced the next family with that dreadful rod again.
This time, a middle-aged man stepped forward. He was dressed in golden silk, short, and horribly overweight. His acne was terrible.
The man with the chicken leg.
