Total pages in book: 208
Estimated words: 209645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1048(@200wpm)___ 839(@250wpm)___ 699(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 209645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1048(@200wpm)___ 839(@250wpm)___ 699(@300wpm)
“Are you going to let me finish a sentence?” he asked.
“No,” she answered, giving his hands the barest squeeze before pulling away and moving toward the door. “I’m off now. Meeting your father at our carriage,” she said as she went.
She turned at the door, expertly flicking her voluminous skirts behind her when she did.
“Majesty is saddled and blanketed and waiting for you when you’re ready,” she declared.
“Thank you, Mother.”
“I didn’t saddle him, the royal groom did.”
“No,” he said, his voice heavy. “Thank you, Mother.”
She tipped her head to the side, and in response to that, oddly said, “Your father wanted to name you Frederick. Did you know that?”
“I didn’t,” he replied quietly.
Then he braced as her voice matched his and a thread of molten gold ran through it when she spoke her next.
“But it was as if I was a seer,” she whispered. “We discussed it for days and days. He put his foot down, but I was adamant. I knew what you should be named. And in the end, I was right. You turned out so handsome.”
He stared at her, his throat feeling thick.
“And true,” she finished, her tone now an ache of pride.
Then, with another expert flick of her skirts, her head held high, True’s beloved mother walked out of the room.
The People of Wodell
Royal Wedding Parade Route, Notting Thicket
WODELL
There came the marching guard first.
All in dress greens.
Their hats with the long drifting feathers wrapped around the wide brims were set upon their heads.
Swords were unsheathed, and at the command of their captain, they thrust them high above, or at another command, they rested them on their shoulders.
This way, they marched in precise lines, ten across, fifty rows.
They were followed by the military drummers.
Ten across.
Five lines.
There came the mounted guard next, the rumps of their horses dressed with the blankets fashioned of the Dellish flag, a sea of green in the middle of which was an acorn, the nut in brown, the stem in yellow, the cupule a patchwork of reds, oranges and butterscotch.
This delegation was followed by the pipers.
Ten across.
Five lines.
After the pipers came the king’s carriage.
Open-topped, festooned in Dellish silver-pewter with a shiny forest-green lacquer, the doors of the carriage denoting the royal standard of the Wodell line. A shield cut in quarters, acorn to the top left, oak leaf under it, a tree in full bloom to the top right, a barren tree under it.
It was noted by all that the queen’s gown and jewels were resplendent, as was her visage and hair. She looked stately, but opulent, and most felt great pride viewing her as she waved regally at the crowd from her seat.
The king wore the dress greens of the Dellish military with a hat that had a dramatic flourish of a feather.
And it was noted by a fair few that he wore this uniform even if he’d never seen a single battle.
Mostly, though, they didn’t pay any mind to him, just his wife.
And then craned their necks to see what came next.
For this was when the crowd perked up and the excited cheering began to grow from constant…
To frenzied.
He was getting closer.
As was she.
For after the king was a procession of marching flag bearers.
Ten across.
Four rows.
The first row the flag of the acorn, second of the leaf, third of the blooming tree, last of its skeleton.
And after that, Prince True’s chosen lieutenants, Sir Alfie in the lead, followed by Sir Bram and Sir Luther side by side, and then Sir Florian and Sir Wallace.
That was when the cheers went deafening.
For behind them, on his esteemed chestnut charge Majesty, his horse’s rump covered in the royal standard, sitting straight and riding hatless, was their most handsome Prince True.
Men cheered. Women screamed (and some swooned). Children ran along the parade route beside him. Leaves flew in the air.
He turned and dipped his chin this way, that.
He caught eyes.
If those eyes were of a child, he smiled.
He was handsome beyond compare.
He was beloved beyond measure.
Following their prince came the dark-skinned, daunting, but appealing King Aramus of Mar-El and his extraordinarily beautiful queen, both mounted on horses that had their necks hung with sea-blue silks that undulated like water.
Next to them rode the large and fearsome, but attractive King Mars of Firenze and the new pride of Wodell, his Dellish queen, Silence. They, too, were mounted, with their horses’ necks draped in crimson that was edged with green.
Behind them, also side by side, rode the beautiful and proud Princess Elena of the Nadirii with the ferociously handsome Cassius, the Prince of Airen.
The rump of her horse was blanketed with a purple silk edged in coral with a white oak leaf in the middle.
And it was noted widely, Prince Cassius’s horse had his neck draped with two silks.
One the black of Airen.
The other…
Coral.
Following them were the surprise guests at the wedding, the Ice Princess of faraway Lunwyn and The Drakkar, her husband and the most powerful man of that realm. This power was proved, for as they rode, a lone dragon soared over their heads.