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)
“Oh my goodness,” I kept whispering.
I very much had to thank Elpis for that extraordinary kindness.
“You couldn’t see me. You had other things on your mind. And you were… Oh, Silence!” Tril pulled me into her arms and held me close. “You were so beautiful. So dignified. So regal.” She caught my upper arms and gave them a firm squeeze, pulling away and grinning teary-eyed at me. “And your king. If he hasn’t already taken the plunge, my love, he’s teetering on the precipice. He’s utterly smitten with you.”
To my shock, I could not argue that.
Her smile got wider as her eyes got brighter with tears.
“Just days. You’ve known him but days and he’s roaring to the heavens at claiming you as his queen. I swear, my love, I’ve never seen anything so romantic in my entire life.”
“That was rather lovely,” I murmured.
“Lovely!” she hooted. “Darling girl, I think I saw about five Firenz girls faint, and a dozen more looked about ready to do so when he did that.”
“Truly?” I asked.
She laughed aloud, tucked my hand in her elbow and moved me toward my new dressing room.
“Truly,” she confirmed when she’d ceased laughing. “I cannot tell you,” she drew the sheer black curtain aside, “how much I love this for so many reasons. Most specifically how very little your father has to do with any of it.”
One could say that Estrilda was not fond of my father. Then again, she’d been my lady’s maid for seven years and my friend since practically the first day we met. The way my father was with me, for a friend, that would happen.
However.
“Tril,” I chided.
She pushed me to the daybed and waved a hand in the air. “Please, I’m maidservant to a queen. I can talk about Lord Johan as I like now.”
I pressed my lips together and felt my eyes get big, because I was suddenly desperately in need of laughter and I wasn’t sure it was appropriate, or it wouldn’t spring forth hysterical.
“I’ll get Piccola,” she offered without me requesting, moving toward the door that led to what was now her room. “Do you want the white lace? Or the white satin and lace?”
Oh faith.
She was talking about wedding nightgowns.
One Tril had sewn on the way to Firenze. An upper of exquisite lace with short sleeves, a deep V at the front, falling into an elegant, wide skirt of satin and ending in a deep edge of more lace that was at least three inches longer than the length of my frame.
Acres of fabric.
The other I’d had made while we were there.
All lace. Very much see-through. Shorter sleeves that were almost winged. A ruched cross at my midriff and another deep V at the bodice.
The first was elegant and Dellish.
The other was sultry and Firenz.
“The satin,” I declared at the same time Tril said, “The lace.”
She stopped while opening the door to her rooms and looked at me.
I shot her an expression that said, Eep!
Piccola pranced out of Tril’s room, across the dressing room floor, and I bent to her as she dashed into my hands.
“Allo, my darling,” I cooed and brought her up to my face.
She chirruped an excited hello.
“Shall we beg Tril for some treats?” I asked her.
She chirruped an excited yes.
“Treats before satin, Tril, don’t you think?” I said to my friend.
“I think lace, my love,” she replied quietly.
I looked into her eyes and cuddled my wee monkey to my neck. “I’m not ready for lace and Mars tells me he will be ready when I am.”
Surprise, relief and joy washed over her features before smugness entered them.
“Smitten,” she declared and moved to the shelves that she had wasted no time in populating with my things. “Deeply,” she concluded, pulling at the satin and flinging it so it soared in the air anchored to her fingers before taking an elegant fall.
“Extraordinary,” a deep voice came, after which there was a startled chirrup and Piccola crawled up into my hair at the same time Tril emitted a strangled scream.
This was because Mars had flung back the sheers and was sauntering into my dressing room.
“I, uh…Your Grace, um…Your Majesty…uuuuuumm, my new king,” Tril stammered bobbing up and down in a half curtsy, half bow that was so clumsy, I feared she’d topple out of it.
“I am King Mars, yes?” Mars stated, tossing his huge body into a full lounge on the daybed beside me. “Two syllables. Easy to remember,” he teased Tril and then fell slightly back so he could lift a long arm at the end of which was a hand that he used to extricate Piccola from my hair.
“Very easy, uh, King Mars,” Tril replied.
“And no bobbing,” Mars went on. Having taken hold of my monkey, he was now allowing Piccola to grasp one of the thick leather straps across his chest. “It’s awkward in a home. Parts of this palace are governmental, but this chamber is a part that’s home.”