White as Frost

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

As promised, Neeve came to show me to the dining room. At first I had not known what the strange, mournful clang was that had echoed down the halls, until she came to fetch me.

“Dinner,” she said when I opened the door to her knock. Then her dark eyes looked me up and down and her lips thinned the slightest bit.

I returned her look, wary.

“Don’t you dress for dinner here?” I asked. I couldn’t help but notice she was wearing the same drab gown as before.

“I don’t.” She turned and, without waiting for me to follow, went down the cool, shadowy corridor.

I pulled my door shut with a thud and hurried after. The gold silk skirts I wore made whispering sounds with each quick footstep. At least Mama would be pleased that I’d changed from my stained traveling clothes into something more suitable for dining with a king.

My new maid, Sorche, had seemed to think it a good idea as well. Or maybe she’d just wanted to please me by agreeing with whatever I said. She seemed attentive, and was younger than I’d expected. When they’d told me I was to have my own maid, I’d expected a matron, not a girl only a handful of years older than myself.

Unfortunately, she refused to answer any of my questions, only bobbing curtseys and murmuring, “That’s not for me to say, miss.”

After three different attempts to pry information from her about the castle and its inhabitants, I gave up and simply let Sorche braid my hair.

“They won’t stay,” I warned her as she pinned the half-dozen red braids in an intricate pattern around my head. “In no time, it’ll be nothing but frizz and tangles.”

I wasn’t worried about having a perfect coiffure, although I often wished my hair were better behaved. What did concern me, though, was how to make Neeve like me. It was a new experience, being disliked on sight, and one I did not enjoy.

“What are your hobbies?” I asked Neeve when I finally caught up to her, halfway down the hallway.

“Hobbies?” She sent me a disdainful look.

“Reading?” I asked, trying to guess what she might enjoy. “I imagine the castle must have a nice library. I prefer tales of adventure, mostly. What do you like to read?”

“I don’t.”

“What?” I stopped in the middle of the hall and stared at her. “You don’t know how to read?”

Apprehension knotted in my lungs. What strange, primitive place had I come to?

She turned on me, eyes sparking with temper. “Of course I know how to read, i***t. I simply said I don’t like to.”

“Oh.” I trailed behind her for a moment, wondering if I should apologize, or if the fact that she’d called me i***t made us even.

Even, I decided, increasing my pace until I walked beside her once more.

“Then what do you like to do?” I tried again.

“What does it matter to you what I like, or don’t like?” She didn’t bother looking at me when she spoke.

“I’m just— I want to be friends.”

I felt prickly. No one had ever asked me to explain myself. It was as though Neeve operated by her own set of rules, and making friends wasn’t anywhere near the front of that list. Possibly not even on it at all.

She made no reply, and for a few minutes I was silenced. We walked on, the emptiness underscored by the clack of her boot heels and the shush of my slippers. As we went down the stairs—a different staircase than the one we’d ascended when I first arrived—Neeve gave my satin footwear a scornful look.

“You call those shoes?” she asked.

“They’re the fashion in Parnese,” I said.

“They’re silly. All those laces and tassels. It’s a wonder you haven’t tripped.”

I did stumble, then, as though her words had tangled about my feet. I grabbed the railing to keep from tumbling down the stairs and gave her a sharp look.

Her dark eyes met mine, calm and revealing nothing. We stared at one another for a moment, and then she turned and gracefully continued down the stairs. She had an odd way of moving, almost as if she were floating through the world and not truly connected to it.

Mindful of my feet, I followed, but at the bottom of the staircase I stopped. Three different hallways led off, identical stone corridors, just like the ones upstairs. And though I’d defended my footwear, it was true that thin satin slippers were not, perhaps, the best choice in this drafty old castle. Already my feet were chilled from walking over the cold floors.

“How far away is the dining room?” I demanded. Had Neeve been leading me in circles all this time? Somehow, it wouldn’t surprise me.

“There.” She gestured to the right-hand hall.

Midway down the dim corridor a pair of double doors stood open, a liveried servant standing at attention before them. He kept his eyes fixed on the air above our heads as we approached, then stood aside to let us enter.

A long table covered by a white tablecloth ran the length of the room. Neeve and I stood at the bottom, and it seemed to me that the head was very far away. There were no flowers, no bright runners; only a few candles in dull metal holders to light the expanse of pale linen. The ceiling overhead stretched away into the shadows.

Windows ran along one side of the room, covered by dark blue curtains. I hoped they’d be open during daylight meals, otherwise the room would be so dark and dreary I feared I might permanently lose my appetite.

There was no one else there, although I made a quick tally of the chairs. Eleven, five ranged down either side of the table and a tall, ornate armchair at the head that was surely the king’s. A few more empty chairs lined the walls on either side of the room, looking like strange, spindly creatures in the flickering candlelight.

At home—our old home—Mama and I had eaten at a small wooden table in our apartments. Sometimes my friends would join us, or hers would, in which case we’d put in the single leaf and squeeze about the edges. Or we’d take our plates into the sunny salon and, mindful of spills, eat our dinner there. Our cook and maid didn’t seem to mind.

I hadn’t been deemed old enough to attend formal dinners at the palace itself, and only once had I eaten there, in a smaller dining room. Mama had taken me to see the old queen when I turned six, and I recalled that she’d coached me for weeks about the proper uses of the various forks and spoons, and how to drape the napkin across my lap, just so.

I forgot all of it, of course, but I remember the old queen laughing, the wrinkles on her face deepening as she showed her amusement at something I’d said. It must not have been too mortifying, for Mama had patted my hand and told me I was a clever girl.

Now, though, faced with the long expanse of table, I felt suddenly six years old again. Generally the prospect of dinner with nine strangers wouldn’t trouble me overmuch, but it had been a long and taxing day. If I could, I’d go back to my rooms and take my meal there on a tray.

But that would be rude, and besides, I had no notion how to get back to my suite. I might starve to death wandering the halls before I ever found it.

“How many people will be dining?” I asked, trying to mask my worry.

“I don’t know.” Neeve sounded sublimely unconcerned. “Sometimes my father’s advisors join him at mealtimes, sometimes not. There are always places set for them, regardless.”

“His Royal Majesty, King Tobin of Raine,” the servant announced, as if the room were full of nobility instead of just two girls hovering at the end of the table. “Accompanied by Queen Arabelle.”

Neeve shot me a narrow-eyed glare as we hurried out of the way, as if it were my fault my mother had married her father. I wrinkled my nose at her. Certainly I had nothing to do with it. I’d rather be back home in Parnese.

The king strode in, Mama on his arm. She looked so beautiful that for a moment I nearly forgave her. The candlelight made her golden hair shine and sparked bright darts from the diamond crown she wore. My full skirts and fancy slippers paled in comparison to her gown, the gauzy overskirt sewn with winking gems.

Even Neeve seemed impressed, at least for a moment. She blinked, wide-eyed, before the shutters of her thoughts slammed closed once more and I could no longer read her expression.

I made a low curtsey. After a moment’s hesitation, Neeve bowed too. Though not quite so low. She was a full-blood princess, after all.

“Hello, girls,” Mama said.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about being put into the same category as Neeve. Mama and I had always been the pair, unless I was off with my friends. My heart twisted as I realized that she would now be fixed on her new husband, and on being the queen.

“Punctual,” the king said, with an approving nod that encompassed both myself and Neeve.

He escorted Mama to the head of the table. There was an awkward moment when Neeve went to take the chair on Lord Raine’s right, just as he pulled it out for my mother.

The king cleared his throat and his daughter leaped back, two spots of color staining her cheeks. She came around the table and perched on the chair to his left. I took the seat below hers, facing an empty place. Or possibly a stranger, if one of the king’s advisors made an appearance.

“It will be just family this evening,” Lord Raine said, as if reading my thoughts.

“These people are not my family,” Neeve muttered.

Either the king did not hear, or he chose to ignore her words. He raised his hand, signaling for the servant to bring wine.

It was a subdued dinner. The king and Mama put their heads close and murmured together for much of the meal, leaving Neeve and I to one another’s company. I’d already learned she didn’t respond well to questions, but I still could not help trying.

“Do you have any pets?”

“Except for horses, animals dislike me.” She took a bite of meat.

It didn’t surprise me in the least. I imagined that most creatures, humans included, did not take well to her prickly nature. I decided not to tell her about the menagerie I’d befriended over the years. Though none of those creatures had included horses. To be honest, though I’d ridden once or twice, I found horses rather intimidating. They were so very large, after all.

“Music, perhaps?” I gave her a hopeful look. “You play an instrument, or sing?”

In truth, I could not imagine this pale, contained girl actually opening her mouth wide enough to let a melody come out.

The look she gave me was condescending. “You sing, I suppose.”

“I do! I love all the popular ballads, as well as the classical—”

“I’m not interested in music.”

I set down my fork and stared at her, feeling the heat in my eyes. “Besides being rude to other people, is there anything you are interested in?”

Her gaze flicked to mine, then away. The telltale red spots bloomed on her cheeks—not as fiercely as when the king had given away her seat at his right hand, but enough so that I knew my words had met their mark.

“Herbalism,” she said.

I suspected it was as much of an answer as I was going to get. At least it was better than nothing.

“Finally,” I said. “Do you make tisanes and sachets and the like? I do love the smell of lavender.”

“It’s too wet and dark here for lavender.”

Of course. I should have guessed that nothing so pleasant as lavender would actually grow in the climate of Raine.

“What do you do during your days?” I asked. “Other than study herbalism.”

“I have tutorials in the mornings,” she said.

“On what subjects?” For once, she was answering my questions, and I’d keep them coming until she stopped.

Besides, I was interested to know what my life in the castle would be like. I’d attended the school for nobles’ children in Parnese, where we studied languages, history, politics, art, music, culinary appreciation… anything and everything that might be useful for a courtier.

“Math,” Neeve said. “Geography. The history of Raine.”

The king glanced over, our conversation obviously catching his attention. “Rosaline, we expect you will join Neeve at her studies. Have you been to school? Are you accustomed to lessons?”

“Yes, my lord,” I said meekly, though his words stung my pride.

I was not some unschooled street urchin. In fact, I’d wager that my education so far had been superior to whatever Neeve had learned in this provincial backwater of a kingdom. I kept my eyes lowered, however, showing no sign of my thoughts. One of my best subjects last year had been diplomacy—perhaps because I’d struggled to master my wicked voice for so many years. I’d taken the lessons in subtlety to heart, especially where adults were concerned.

“Good,” Lord Raine said. “We will expect you to join my daughter in the classroom promptly at eight.”

“In the morning?” I slanted a glance at Mama. That seemed like a most uncivilized hour to begin lessons. “After breakfast?”

“We eat during lessons,” Neeve said. “Miss Groves always begins with a lecture, so there’s time for a meal. The servants bring up trays from the kitchens.”

“Oh.” I was accustomed to lying abed until nearly nine, then taking a cup of milky tea and hurrying off to school, which began at half past.

“That’s settled.” The king gave me a nod, then turned back to conversing with my mother.

I looked at Neeve, my appetite fleeing as a terrible thought occurred to me. “You don’t have lessons all afternoon as well?”

One corner of her red lips twitched, as if she sensed my horror and was amused by it.

“No,” she said. “You can do whatever you like after lunch.”

Also served in the schoolroom, I guessed.

“What do you do?” Perhaps I’d join Neeve. At least for the first few afternoons, until I understood the lay of the castle better, and what my options might be.

Her expression went blank again. “It’s none of your business.”

I blinked at her a moment, then gathered my wits. “Very well.”

What a strange girl she was, and so cold. I’d heard that her name meant snow in Raine’s ancient language, and that fact did not surprise me in the least.

But if Neeve did not want me to find out what she did each afternoon, she’d just guaranteed that I’d do my best to discover it. I didn’t like being told no, especially not by someone my own age who thought herself so much better than me.

One of my classes had introduced the art of skullduggery. I wasn’t as good at sneaking about as I was at diplomacy, but I knew how to drape a cloak to blend into the shadows and how to trail someone while keeping my own steps silent.

Whatever Neeve was up to the next afternoon, I was determined to follow her and find out.