FROST- Jotun Chronicles #1

Lady Edda

Luckily Prince Lief spent most of his time in the training room, or at his mother’s side in the throne room, so we didn’t run into him often. For the rest of the week Charlotte and I just sort of drifted around the palace. Erik showed us the entire place, which took nearly half a day, and the Queen ordered the servants to make us new clothing that actually fit properly.

            I spent hours in the seamstress’ room, standing in front of the wall of mirrors, being measured and pricked by pins.

            “Miss, please, if you stand still there’ll be no danger of poking you,” the seamstress was a robust woman whose honey colored hair curled over her shoulders. She was much more vocal than the other servants, and I would guess her position was a coveted one. Right now she was staring at me with stern blue eyes.

            “Sorry,” I mumbled, and turned to watch Charlotte, who was wandering about the shop marveling over different types of fabric, running her hands over the silks and satins.

            “Look,” she held up a roll of blood red silk, “wouldn’t this make an amazing evening gown?”

            I nodded, and then sucked in air through my teeth when I felt another sharp poke in my ribs. The seamstress shook her head and made a “tut tut” noise at me.

            “Oh,” Charlotte sighed, “this dark blue one is so pretty.”

            I bit my lip, hoping that she wasn’t mad. It was pretty obvious that the seamstress was spending way more time on my measurements. And the rolls of fabric that the Queen had picked for Charlotte and I were different. My outfits were clearly going to be far more lavish.

            “Done,” the seamstress shooed me off the box I was standing on, “your clothing will be delivered to your room when it’s done, miss.”

            “Thank you,” I collected the fur wrap I’d been wearing over my thin cotton dress and turned to Charlotte, “can you tear yourself away or do you want to hang out here for a bit?”

            “No,” Charlotte put down the fabric she was caressing, “I’m good.” Her face brightened, “let’s go to the kitchen and get some more of those pastries they gave us last night. Those were so good and I’m starved. It’s got to be lunchtime.”

            As we were exiting the room her stomach rumbled audibly, as if to prove her point. I laughed, “Okay, but we shouldn’t fill up too much. I’m sure they’ll be another huge lunch in the great hall.”

            We walked down the icy corridors, and I found my mind wandering back to yesterday. The servants brought breakfast to Charlotte and I every morning when they came to stoke the fire, but lunch and dinner was held in the great hall. Each time, the Queen had acknowledged our present with a gentle smile and a nod, but she hadn’t said anything further to me yet, not since the day I’d met her. Was she trying to give me a chance to settle in? Was she planning on talking to me one on one eventually? Or maybe, now that I was here, this was it.

            Footsteps echoed down the hallway, and a woman rounded the corner. She was a head taller than me, her hair done up in elaborate braids that coiled at the back of her neck. It had only taken me a few days to realize that the Queen wore a hairstyle one night, and the next day every female in the palace was sporting it. As she neared us the woman examined me with dark blue eyes. I noticed she moved with a confidence that bordered on aggression, head up, shoulders thrown back. The sharp clip of her high heels on the ice slowed down as she approached us.