Winter Heart, page 3
Hael sat at the long table at the king’s left, and Niamh sat next to him. Across the way, the Lady Maire sat at the king’s right and Maewyn, her cousin, apparently, next to her.
This put Niamh directly in front of Maewyn who, Niamh was slowly realizing, never ran out of things to say. Maire showed mild disinterest in whatever it was Maewyn was prattling on about, and slid her green eyes toward Niamh briefly.
When Maewyn had sufficiently reached the end of her list of talking points with her cousin, she turned her bright eyes toward Niamh and she could see her bringing up another mental list of questions for her. Niamh had successfully avoided her for the most part, but there was nowhere to run here in the prison of social graces. Niamh relented inwardly, motivated by the guilt of avoiding their guest.
“So...” Niamh began, clearing her throat so her voice could be more clearly heard above the din of the dining hall. “What brought you to Eira with your cousin?”
“I came here for the same reason that many people do,” She said, grinning, “To study magic. Isn't this where magic comes from?”
Doesn't she know the answer? Niamh thought. She replied instead with a light “Oh? Yes, it is.” A deep suspicion bloomed inside of her. Maewyn looked positively mischievous, as if she was sitting on some great secret.
"So when do you start at the academy, then?" Niamh asked. Maewyn didn't look to be much younger than herself, which was far too old to be just starting a magical education.
"There's an academy, here?!" Maewyn's eyes widened, as if this was the first time she was hearing about it. Niamh resisted the urge to quirk an eyebrow. The suspicion grew larger.
Maewyn, unfortunately, continued.
”I’ve heard so many stories of the great Phoenix Mage back in Corseils, and I wanted to meet him for myself.” Maewyn said, nodding in Hael’s direction. If Hael heard her, he didn’t show it, being completely entrenched in some serious looking conversation with the king. Maewyn shifted excitedly in her chair as Niamh flushed, suddenly being more interested in the soup in front of her than before.
"I've come to train to be his apprentice!" Maewyn finally crowed, as if she could hold on to her secret no longer.
"Oh." Niamh's tone was no longer light, her face growing even hotter. She was acutely aware of how childish that sounded, even as she tried to tamp down on all the injustice rising inside of her.
"I guess you've got some competition now." Maewyn teased, grinning.
After everyone had eaten their fill, the party continued in the ballroom. Sometime later, Niamh stood awkwardly with her champagne glass near one of the small doorways leading to the gardens. Although she'd been living in the castle for almost a year, she was still not socially versed in parties and balls. She occasionally made small talk with whoever happened to pass by her in between dances, but kept to herself for the most part; observing the swirling dancers and elegantly dressed courtiers.
Niamh peered across the space to see Maire standing alone as well. She was hard to miss in her deep crimson gown. It was tight across the top, with a dipping sweetheart neckline that exposed more cleavage than Niamh had thought possible. At her waist was a cage-like corset with swirling patterns, the skirt of the dress flaring out from it creating a mountain of flowing fabric. Silver embroidery matching the corset decorated the hem and sleeve, accentuating the silvery-white of her hair beautifully.
Hael had guilted her earlier that day about her apparent lack of manners in avoiding introducing herself to her new queen. As awkward as she felt, as if she herself was ill-fitting for the higher rank that she possessed, Niamh knew that she needed to do what was expected of her. Here we go. Niamh thought to herself. She strode across the ballroom, doing her best to appear more confident than she felt. Upon her arrival, Maire acknowledged her presence with a blank stare, as Niamh dipped courteously.
“I thought I might formally introduce myself, Lady.” She said, “My name is Niamh Sagesinger. I’m studying to be Head Mage under Master Hael here at the castle.” Maire made no indication that this information was at all relevant to her, so Niamh continued. “I..um.. I grew up here in Eira, in Wolfrau. How are you enjoying our fair country?”
Maire turned her head to stare out at the mingling guests in their bright colors. The silence between them went on a moment longer than what was comfortable, and just as Niamh was about to give up, Maire answered in a distant voice. “It’s...charming. I suppose.”
Niamh smiled kindly, “Y-Yes, I do agree-“
“If you consider crude manners and sleeping on the floor with the horses charming.” Maire’s green eyes slid to the side, noticeably gazing at Niamh’s attire in a sweeping fashion.
“Did you rip that from some impoverished laundress in that little village of yours?” Maire’s voice was all at once cold and needling.
Niamh glanced down at her own modest dress, suddenly aware of the older style. Her sleeves came to a soft point at her hands, handmade ivory lace peeking from the ends of her sleeves and the rounded neckline at her collarbone. It had a shorted hem, allowing her gray laced boots to be displayed, and a black sash at the waist. The rest of the dress was a deep midnight blue, her favorite color. She admitted to herself that it wasn’t the fanciest or the most stylish, but she had indeed brought it with her from her mountain home and kept it in good condition with pride. It was perfectly fine for the small gatherings and bonfires at home, but...
“Um, yes, I did, actually. I need to get a newer gown sometime, I suppose.” Niamh looked down at her boots in embarrassment. Fingering her champagne glass self-consciously, suddenly feeling as if every eye was on her.
Maire continued. “Not that I would expect an uncultured village doctor such as you to have any money, or taste for that matter, to buy such finery as to befit this court.” She looked straight ahead again. “You can at least look like you put forth some effort before appearing before me and your King.”
“Um...” Niamh’s eyes stung, and she backed away subconsciously. “Y-yes. I suppose you’re right.” Niamh bowed again, her brimming eyes obscured by her bangs. “I will endeavor to improve my attire for the next time.”
Maire smirked, satisfied. “See that you do.”
Niamh turned and walked toward the gardens, leaving behind the happy guests and graceful music and bright lights of the ballroom. Heart beating fast and hands shaking, she opened the glass doors and stepped out into the silence of the night. Her half-empty glass abandoned on the palace steps.
The next morning, as the castle was abuzz with preparations, Niamh quietly slipped from her room in the castle and out to the main road to town. There was only a few more hours before the wedding. The sun was shining, casting fragile blue shadows onto the fresh snow fall. The air was crisp, and she inhaled deeply savoring its freshness. As she walked down the main road to the market, she passed several sleighs filled with her fellow countrymen from across every village and township across Eira. People rode on horseback, and walked together in groups up the hill, chatting excitedly amongst themselves. Niamh strode in the opposite direction, a basket under her arm and her most recent allowance in her cape pockets.
The castle town of Ahealarth was a cramped, bustling place. Each business ran into the next, with apartments above, a design that was meant to keep heating costs low and residents close to each other. The town sloped downward from the castle, being built from the stony mountain sides and carved into the mountain itself. A strongly built, winding staircase of wood and stone and ice weaved between the buildings, creating large walkways and tiny alleys as one moved to the outskirts. This made any trip home to the castle more difficult if one was laden with parcels, as Niamh knew from personal experience.
As she neared her favorite tailor, near to her old apartment, she listened to the streams of soft music coming from the heart of the city. Directly in the center of town was a magnificent kirk with a single spire, a magical light twinkling from the top of it. The elegant sanctuary dedicated to the Father of Lights. She smiled at it thoughtfully as she entered the warm shop. The jovial face of her oldest friend in the city greeted her, as Niamh was suddenly spotted from behind the counter.
“Niamh!” The other woman filled the small space with her joy, laughing as she ran out to hug her. The pair exchanged pleasantries, with much cupping of faces and warm hugs. Her friend was pregnant, putting a rounded stomach between them.
Niamh pulled her blue dress from its basket. “Is there anything you can do to help me with this, Ailish?” Niamh fingered the soft blue fabric, “It’s still in good shape, and I don’t really have the money for a new dress right now.”
Ailish tsked and waved her hand dismissively. “Those dress shops are always overpriced and everyone knows it.” She thought for a moment, “I think I have just the thing.” She waddled over behind the counter and pulled out a soft, sheer fabric that rippled from the bolt. "I'll work on it right now, as long as you'll stay for tea.”
Niamh laughed lightly. "What else could I do?"
Ailish set to work immediately, pinning and humming and ripping into Niamh's beloved dress with gusto and no shortage of precision. Niamh watched nervously, sipping her tea with furrowed brows.
"Are you enjoying your new position?" Ailish asked through the pins in her mouth.
"It's hardly new." Niamh said, "I've been there for over a year now."
Ailish shot her a look. "You don't have to look so constipated over there. This is my job, you know."
Niamh cringed. I didn't mean to make that face out loud. "It was my mother's dress. It's just-"
"It's going to be alright, Niamh." Ailish cut in, "You don't have to worry so much. I know what I'm doing."
Hael told her the same thing plenty of times over. Niamh was dubious.
"Even if Master Hael is the one that taught you how to use those magic threads of yours, I'm the one that showed you how to stitch them into pretty pictures." Ailish said, turning her eyes back to her work. The beginnings of a sheer overskirt were beginning to form under her expert seamstress' fingers. "You can trust me." She added.
I barely trust myself. Niamh thought wryly, choosing not to respond.
After a brief moment of comfortable silence, Niamh took a moment to reheat the pot of tea, slipping on her glove to amplify the simmering heat from her hand. Ailish cast an appreciative look as Niamh refilled her teacup.
"What's this tea?" She asked, gazing into the pink steaming liquid.
"It's raspberry leaf." Niamh answered, "If you drink enough of it, it should help your delivery when it comes time."
"I'm sure my delivery will be just fine." Ailish said, laughing lightly as she ripped a strip of fabric from the neckline of the dress, barely missing the little white flowers embroidered along it. Niamh gritted her teeth.
"One can never be too careful." She said. Niamh hoped Ailish caught her meaning.
Ailish merely sighed. "You're going to have to loosen up one of these days, Niamh. Especially if you're going to be Head Mage." She paused, "I can't imagine the kind of stress that man must be under."
"It's why he's so grumpy." Niamh laughed in to her cup, splattering tea onto her nose. Her previous worries forgotten for the moment.
After a couple quiet hours of conversation, and a promise to return soon, Niamh was promptly shooed out without being allowed to pay some of her allowance for Ailish’s trouble.
On her way back to the castle, Niamh stopped by the shoemaker’s shop to buy simple silver shoes with the monthly allowance that Ailish refused. Her new shoes wrapped in pretty paper, and her pockets jingling with left-over allowance, she rushed excitedly back through town..
4
NIAMH SLIPPED INTO her new dress, feeling its softness against her skin and taking in the scent of her home still woven into the fibers. The embroidery on her silver shoes was styled to look like frost on a windowpane, wispy patterns flowing over each other. She pulled from her private stock of flowers, kept fresh by magic, to intertwine into her hair. Gazing in the mirror, she took in her ensemble a final time. Her dark auburn hair, normally tied back in a single braid to her waist, was loose and flowing save for the crown braid she secured around the back of her head.
The white flowers she collected were placed carefully through her crown braid, bringing a bit of springtime, or at least what she imagined to be springtime, to her hair. The hem of the dress reached just above her ankles, displaying her shoes perfectly.
She tugged at her sleeve, pleased with her appearance. Midnight blues dyed into the fabric brought out the sapphire of her eyes. Niamh gathered her skirts and left her cottage to the sparkling castle beyond the gardens.
All of Eira was gathered in the main hall of the palace, commoner and gentry all dressed in whatever their class considered their finest clothing. Many other nobility had traveled from the surrounding territories and countries as well, creating a visual melting pot of culture and language in the great room.
Columns of ice, decorated with gold, soared to the cathedral-like ceiling, creating a stately space and amplifying the cacophony of noise. Richly textured banners hung between the columns, featuring the white swan of Corseils, as well as the silver fox of Eira. Signifying the marriage of two countries.
The room smelled of vanilla, dainty florals, and fresh sea breezes. This last scent was graciously created by a few of the magicians from Corseils, having received their training in Eira and then returning to their own countries. The benches on which the guests sat were adorned with sweeping garlands of light blue and white and gold, with the added detail of magical imitations of snowdrops and frostflowers holding the ends to each bench.
As the guests filed into the ceremony, Niamh took her place beside Hael at the front end of the aisle. Her king stood regally and still on the dais, awaiting his bride. The king was dressed in finely embroidered robes of gold and deep scarlet, his long black hair loosely braided behind him, his golden crown upon his head. Niamh had never seen nervousness or fear on her king’s face, but the look that he gave the end of the aisle would be as close as she had ever seen. He glanced, in the slightest of movements, toward Hael. The flicker of shyness in his eyes betrayed his emotional state only briefly. Her master nodded reassuringly in return.
Maewyn appeared then, taking her seat on the opposite side of the aisle, smiling at Niamh as she did so. She was dressed in a light sea green, to represent her country, with white accents in various places. Her short white hair was loose, accentuated with a delicate pearl clip on one side. Maewyn had just come from the bridal suite, Niamh theorized, which meant the wedding itself would soon be underway. Maewyn waved at her enthusiastically. Niamh gave a small, polite wave back.
The organ blasted to life just then, filling the hall with a grand wedding march. All eyes turned to the magnificence standing at the double doors. Her groom’s face was overcome with joy, his eyes seeing nothing but her as she took her first step down the aisle. Hael waved his hand discreetly on cue with the music, and soft snow fell over the aisle, creating fluttering clouds of white around the bride’s hem and down the walkway.
Maire’s wedding dress was the most beautiful Niamh had ever seen, even more than her stunning dresses the night before. It was the most finely crafted by the best dressmakers that either Corseils or Eira had to offer. Handcrafted lace of rarest, most delicate fibers covered every inch of the dress, depicting Corseil’s history, Eira’s history, battles and victories, marriages, fairytales and major events. The story continued down the elegant line of the bodice to the tip of the long train that reached out of the room. The flowing waterfall of her hair was loose and unbound, flowing down her open back to the floor, resting on her skirts. Her huge bouquet was made up of the rarest flowers either kingdoms’ fields could grow, and Niamh guessed they had been imported from the flower fields and rose gardens of Aridia. Her hands disappeared in the mess of florals.
The veil fell over her angelic face, creating a glow of sheer fabric to soften the rose of her cheeks. She was a vision in white, like the brightest star in the sky. Niamh couldn't read her expression as she floated toward her groom. The king reached a hand for his queen, grasping it tenderly and brought her up to stand with him.
The wedding went just as all weddings do, whether someone is peasant or royalty. Though, as the ceremony began, Niamh decided she preferred the former. The weddings she was used to were usually accompanied by far more ale, and the people tended to be in better spirits. In her little town of Wolfrau, just a few hours ride into the mountains, everyone knew everyone else. All the families were connected, and most women married the men they had grown up with. So weddings were usually much shorter, and the officiant had to possess the willpower to continue the ceremonial vows over shouts and teasing by the town’s residents. The memory brought a smile to her face. Taking a glance around at all the solemn, foreign faces, Niamh shook her head. There would be no good-natured, slightly tipsy badgering of the couple here.
As it was, the ceremony lasted less than an hour, and at the officiant’s indication, the whole kingdom stood in an uproarious applause. The king faced the crowd, smiling. The new queen looked as stone-faced as she had moments earlier, though now it was plain and unabashed without her veil to hide it. Hael hummed in displeasure next to her.
The snow that had fallen over the aisle turned to white flower petals on the attending mages' command, as Airem and Maire stepped down from the dais and made their way to the back of the room, still surrounded by their subjects' applause. Bells rang out from every Kirk tower for miles, filling the air with continuous music. Niamh filed out with the rest of the crowd to attend the following reception.
If the wedding itself was a gorgeous and elegant affair, the feast and ball afterwards were even more so. The castle was filled with the smells of the best game Eira had wandering its mountainsides. There were various types of bread, cheese, imported fruits and vegetables, puddings, mead, wine, stews and soups. There were roasted pheasants, wild boar, honey basted geese, and chocolate covered frostflowers and huckleberries. It was the biggest feast most of the common people of Eira had only ever dreamed of, including Niamh. She munched on a little of everything throughout dinner, savoring each flavor that crossed her tongue.
