A Queen Redestined

Chapter 15

”I thought you would spend less time with us once your bride arrived,” Florent Cyprae said, as he surveyed the land before him upon a horse. Constantin and Alfons were on their own horses behind him, the animals whickering and impatiently trotting up and down the path. ”And yet the opposite has happened- you’ve dragged us out more often than before. We have other friends in the palace too, you know, and I’d like to meet them at some point rather than get pulled out to ride every day, morning to night.”

Alfons snorted.

”Oh, do you really? I thought Cons and I were the only ones who could stand your dandy ways.” He laughed and dodged as the young lord Cyprae threw a twig at him. 

”You’re running from the subject,” Constantin Littori remarked from his other side, not joining in the foolery.  Alfons only shrugged in reply.

”I have no official need to spend all my time with her yet. Come the wedding, I will likely be shackled to her until we produce an heir, so why hasten the process?”

Constantin frowned. ”You’re being unkind to your new bride. I’m sure she would have expected more of a welcome than some brief words from her husband-to-be. Have you forgotten she has left everything of Vifort behind? From what I’ve heard of the Southlanders, they tend to be very close to their families. This cannot be easy for her.”

Alfons raised an eyebrow at his friend. ”If you’re so concerned for her, you have my permission to go welcome her as you think I should.”

”I’m not her betrothed. You are.”

”I am also the crown prince. Which means I don’t have to do anything beyond what is required of me. And custom does not dictate that I must be the one taking her around the palace when Madam Belrac and the Lamaron girl are doing that well enough.”

Florent had ridden up now, and he frowned as well.

”Alfons, I know you can’t let the matter of Josefina go, but this is really-”

He stopped short at the sudden, hotly murderous glare Alfons was levelling in his direction. Alfons was the crown prince, yes, certainly one could expect a certain amount of wilfulness. But it was rare for him to be this temperamental, or curt to his own friends.

”I thought we agreed never to mention her name again,” Alfons said, low under his breath, tightly. Constantin and Florent shot each other a quick look.

”I’m too thoughtless with my words, forgive me,” Florent apologised, and Alfons gave him another glare before abruptly turning his horse to canter off in another direction. His friends could only sigh under their breaths and chase to catch up with him.

”I can’t believe you brought her name up,” Constantin hissed, out of Alfons’s earshot, and Florent gave him an indignant look.

”You know perfectly well she’s the reason why Alfons is being so cold to the Vifort girl!”

”Of course we all know that! You still didn’t have to bring her up.” Constantin rubbed the bridge of his nose, agitated. ”By the Harmony, Florent, learn some tact.” He abandoned the sulking young lord to go canter by Alfons’s side, hoping to rescue the situation.

”You’re intent on avoiding Marie Vifort until the wedding then? For the next three months?”

Alfons didn’t even spare him a glance.

”I really don’t understand why you’re so concerned about her. Have you perchance fallen in love with her? I’m sure another princess consort could be arranged for if you have.”

”Alfons.” Constantin didn’t know if he was more shocked or angered by his friend’s utter indifference.

”Constantin.”

The young count shook his head. ”I cannot believe you. Where is your empathy for another person dragged against their will into Marimiers? Well, sulk away then. I will come to you in the evening, and hopefully you will have recovered your senses then.”

Alfons raised his head then, the slightest bit shamed, but Constantin had already galloped off, back to the palace in the distance.

—

In the week that Marie had been at court, she had realised that she was used to waking up very early. Far earlier than almost every other noble person in the palace, and almost as early as the scullery maids. 

Aside from the first day or two, when she had slept in after the grueling ride from Vifort, she had risen with the dawn each day, revelling in the quiet.

The quiet also meant that she had been able to sneak down to the palace guards’ courtyard to catch them at their morning training. 

They had been startled at first of course, but the name of Vifort and the exploits that followed were well known enough that there hadn’t been much protest when Marie had asked to join them. They were honoured even, to have such a legendary military name amongst them.

Of course, she couldn’t practice as long as she used to, since she had to be back in her rooms with enough time to wash herself before the Ritual of the Morning began, but still. 

It felt like no small measure of freedom returned to her. 

After a few days’ training and getting to know the palace guards, Marimiers itself didn’t feel so foreign after all. 

Giselle had flown into a flurry of panic the first morning she came to wake Marie and found the room empty instead, so Marie had tried to come back earlier after that incident. (It certainly wasn’t fun to get lectured by Elizaveta, first thing in the morning.)

Less delightful was the dreaded morning ritual.

As Marie was not presently married into the royal family, the older noble ladies would not come into her room yet. However, it was open season for all the young ladies who had no royal connections at court it seemed, and every morning had seen a stream of noble girls, eager to get to know their new princess consort, flooding into her rooms for a chance to be able to dress her and to receive an invite perhaps, to attend her and promenade with her for the day.

At least it was a very genial and chatty atmosphere for the most part, Marie conceded. Everyone was usually in a frivolous mood- except for Adelena, the dour girl she had noticed on her first day in Marimiers. She had learnt her name the second day, as well as the fact that she was one of Elizaveta’s closer friends.

Now there was a girl who didn’t want to be in her quarters. And yet she was, a glowering presence at the back of the room, never quite entering the good-natured fight to present Marie with an item of clothing of jewellery. Instead she clung close to Elizaveta when she could, and sulked when she couldn’t, all the way throwing disdainful sniffs at Marie herself.

Despite herself, Marie thought it was quite entertaining.

”Why are you forcing Adelena to come to greet me in the mornings?” Marie pondered, before the ladies were allowed into her room. Elizaveta had come in early for once, and Marie seized the opportunity to have some private conversation with her. 

Elizaveta had her natural poker face on. As usual.

”Am I?” she said idly, picking out a dress for Marie to wear for the day. 

Marie raised her eyebrows. ”Anyone with a working eye could tell she would rather be eating mud than jostling for my favour, and they’d be able to tell too that she’s very close to you. Why force her to even be here? You know if you asked any favour for her, I’d still do it to the best of my ability. Just because it’s you. So she doesn’t need to fight for favour, or whatever it is you call the insanity of the morning rituals.”

She almost relished the deep sigh Elizaveta gave at her very blunt assessment of the situation. 

It was fun. In a way. To rile Elizaveta up some. 

”Adelena doesn’t know what’s good for her,” came the prim reply. ”But on top of that... She has some prejudices that I think would be good to get rid of, once she actually gets to know you. And vice versa.” She came over to Marie’s side, as Giselle poured more water into the tub so Marie could scrub the sweat and dirt away. ”Adelena’s parents are fairly high ranking in court. Despite her hauteur towards those she dislikes, she’s a smart and capable advisor. I think you would do well in the future to have her in your confidence.”

Marie tilted her head, humming consideringly. 

”Be that as it may, it seems silly to force her to it.”

”Adelena is stubborn about her first impressions, even when they are erroneous.” 

Marie had to laugh at that, at how assured Elizaveta seemed of both girls’ temperaments, which drew a huff from the other girl. 

”Confident, aren’t you? Well I’ll try to talk to her more, but you can’t blame me if she snaps at me and I retreat. I’m not in the habit of trying to wheedle people into being my friend.”

Elizaveta smiled reluctantly. ”Yes. And why would you need to?”

Marie gave her a thoughtful glance, and chose not to reply. She rose from the tub once Giselle was satisfied that she was clean enough, to be dried off with soft fluffy towels. After that was her silk shift, and perfumed oils pressed to pulse points along the upper part of her body.

That was another thing to get used to. All her life Marie had worn linen close to her skin. Finely woven, very soft linen yes. But silk? For an undergarment? It felt like sheer prodigious waste to Marie. 

Not to mention the occasionally ludicrous perfume Giselle would apply on her. It was rose oil today, but it had been frankincense the day before, and agarwood the second day. 

Marie dreaded to think of the pomp and circus that would inevitably happen on a sacred or festival day. 

Elizaveta stepped close as Giselle prepared the clothing, to begin weaving ribbons and the loathed hair pieces onto Marie’s head. 

Marie laid a hand on Elizaveta’s wrist, pouting slightly. 

”Is it really necessary? My head is so heavy, I think my neck might snap one of these days.”

Even without looking at Elizaveta’s sympathetic smile, Marie thought she might already know the answer.

”Maybe when you’re queen you can change the fashions,” she said, and balanced the heavy false braid across the crown of Marie’s head.