Page 121 of Of Rime and Ruin
“The king is anything but usual, Your Highness.” Her eyes twinkle for a moment before growing dim. “When he lost his mother, he struggled to find his joy again. It’s been quite some time since I’ve seen that male smile, love.” She takes my hand. “Thank you.”
I drop my gaze from the mirror as a knot forms in my throat.
She squeezes my hand and pulls me from the chair. “Would you like to pick out your dress? I’m afraid there wasn’t time to have one made for you, but I’m sure we can find you something suitable in here.”
The closet is stuffed to the gills with ball gowns. Lace, silk, and furs crowd the hangers, abundant frills spilling onto the floor. Most of the dresses are cool-toned. Shades of blues and greens and grays. I trail my fingers along the fabric and inhale their soft scent. A tinge of peppermint hangs in the air.
“What was he like?” I blurt, tugging at a lacey green ribbon. “Before.”
“His Majesty was an inquisitive guppy. I wouldn’t say he was cheerful—he’s always had a hard shell for an exterior, I’m afraid—but he was adventurous. A risk-taker. He loved to explore and have fun. Test the boundaries. There was many a time he pushed me to my limits.”
She lifts a hem, rubs it between her fingers, and sighs wistfully.
I smile. “Sounds like me.”
“You?”
“Deirdre, I’m a high-class scoundrel, where I come from.”
The housekeeper chuckles. “You make a good pair, then.”
I pause, grasping a hanger for support as a wave of irritation catches me off guard. “He’ll never let me leave. And as long as that’s true, we are not equals. There is nopair.”
She frowns and shakes her head, but Deirdre can’t deny it out loud. “His heart’s in the right place. Even if his actions haven’t caught up. Give him time to surprise you.”
I glance at the dress in my hands, a slim silk number in light, glittery blue. Like the color of the sky before snowfall—or the color of Aethan’s eyes. My heart lifts, and I pull it off the rack.
“Oh my,” Deirdre gasps. She brings her hand to her mouth, eyes glistening with emotion. “That’s one of my favorites.”
“I think it’ll work,” I say, holding it up to check the size. It’s a little long.
“I can hem it, don’t you worry. Now let’s get you dressed. We don’t want to keep him waiting.”
Deirdre holds it out for me. I step into the skirt and slip my arms through the straps. The silky fabric glides over my curves easily, lifting my breasts and flaring away at the knees. Glittery thread embroiders the bodice, adding a subtle silver sparkle.
“It’s perfect,” I gasp. I spin, watching the skirt lift and twist around my legs. Glitter sheds from the garment, falling to the floor like snow. “Wow.”
Deirdre claps. “Oh, that’s just darling on you. And a perfect fit, too. I wasn’t sure.”
“Whose dress is it? Yours?”
“Oh goddess, no. I’m much too…” She gestures to her large bosom and laughs. But the laugh is flat, and her smile falls a little at the corners. “You’re in the queen’s quarters, love. That dress was Isolde’s. She wore it to the midnight dance on Yuletide, when we were young. Before Aethan came along. Oh, she was so beautiful that night. You should’ve seen her, love.” Deirdre’s eyes wax wistful, and she chews her bottom lip.
I smooth my hands over my belly, relishing the softness of the silk. “She had excellent taste.”
“Yes, well.” Her eyes tighten. “I’m glad the dress will get another turn about the dance floor. It’s been too long, and I can’t bear to clear them out.”
“I’m honored.” I want to ask more, to learn about his mother. I’ve only gleaned so much from the history books Perrin broughtme. She was tall and pale and, like Aethan, the perfect picture of a Frost siren. Reclusive and prone to mood swings. But that’s all I could gather. It’s hard to imagine a cold female like that would dance in a gown like this, much less have a closet full of them.
Deirdre fishes a needle and thread from her apron pocket. “Now, this won’t take too long. A quick hem so you aren’t tripping over yourself.” She stoops low and works with the fabric, stitching a few holds around the hem. When she finishes, she clears her throat softly. “Shall we?”
We exit the dressing room, and Perrin’s jaw drops. Blush creeps over his freckled cheeks. “Wow.”
“Is it too much?” I ask, running my hands over my hips. The fabric is tight. Maybe a little too tight. I should’ve picked a more voluminous dress from the queen’s closet, one that hides my curves.
Perrin shakes his head furiously. “No, you look...” He surveys my appearance at a different angle, then wrinkles his nose. “You look like an icicle.”
The pressure in my chest eases. I hike the skirt and shake glitter over his toes. “That was the idea.”
