Violet Eyes (8 page)

Instead Genevieve’s eyes flew open wide. “What an adventure you must have had! How long did it take you to get here?”

“My whole life, it seems,” Violet answered frankly.

“How exciting! You must tell me all about it,” Genevieve said, eyes flashing with excitement and alabaster skin flushing. She clapped her hands together like a child receiving a longed-for gift.

“Gladly,” Violet said.

Just then a trio of servants bustled into the room and seized Genevieve. “My lady, we must get you ready for the banquet!” one exclaimed.

“Now, you haven’t been agitating yourself, have you?” another asked.

“You know what your mother would say,” the third added.

Genevieve’s face fell. Violet watched in fascination as the three women hurried Genevieve into a fresh dress and began brushing her hair. Violet shook her
head in amazement when Genevieve’s protests of wanting to brush her own hair went unheeded.

Genevieve looked so forlorn that Violet’s heart went out to her.

“I wish I could loan you a dress to wear tonight,” Genevieve said.

“I don’t think I could wear any of yours,” Violet said.

Genevieve shook her head. “Where are your servants?” Genevieve asked, scowling briefly at her own.

“I don’t have any.”

“Then who will help you get ready?”

Before Violet could answer, Genevieve said brightly, “Christine can help you.” She indicated the youngest of the three servants.

“There’ll be none of that,” one of the other women spoke up. “It will be our hides if you aren’t presentable.”

Genevieve’s face fell. But a movement in the doorway caused her eyes to light up.

“Milady?”

Violet turned around and saw an older lady standing just inside the door holding a gown of pale green. It was the loveliest thing Violet had ever seen.

“Milady?” the woman repeated, and with a start Violet realized she was speaking to her.

“Yes?”

“I was instructed to bring you this gown.”

“It’s for me?” Violet whispered in awe.

“It is.”

Violet took the dress, marveling at the feel of the fabric beneath her fingertips. The woman gave her a small nod and then turned and left. Genevieve managed to free herself and came over to look at it. The green was so deep that it reminded Violet of the forest glistening under a winter sun. Delicate gold embroidery circled the neck and wrists in a pattern that reminded Violet of vines.

“It’s beautiful,” Violet said.

“It’s very expensive.”

“I’ve never seen anything so pretty.”

“It isn’t yours?”

“No,” Violet said.

“Well, someone wants you to be the most exquisite lady in the castle.”

Violet shook her head. “It must be some mistake, or else maybe they didn’t want me wearing this to dinner,” she said, indicating her current dress.

“It would reflect badly on all of us,” Genevieve noted. “Still, I think whoever sent you this dress must be very fond of you.”

Violet thought of Richard. Could it have been him? He was the only one she knew in the castle, after all. “Maybe so,” she said.

She glanced down at herself. “I just wish they’d been fond enough to send shoes as well,” she said regretfully, but with a hint of humor.

Genevieve glanced down at Violet’s tattered slippers. “You can wear a pair of mine.”

Violet shook her head. “I don’t think they’d fit.”

“Actually, I think we wear the same size.”

Violet glanced down and noticed that Genevieve’s feet were much larger than she had expected.

“Christine, please bring me a pair of slippers,” Genevieve said.

With a disapproving cluck at Violet, Christine handed over the slippers. They were black, and soft to the touch and larger than she would have expected. Black beading covered much of the toes. Violet took them and then sat in a chair to try them on.

“My brother always teases me and asks me when I’m going to grow into my feet,” Genevieve said as Violet slid on the shoes.

The slippers fit perfectly. Violet admired them for a moment, hoping that the dress would fit so well.

She looked at the rest of her and realized that she really needed to wash before putting on the dress. She found a washbasin and pitcher and set about cleaning up.

As it turned out, the dress was also a perfect fit. Genevieve loaned her a brush, and Violet managed to braid her wet hair into a single rope down her back. After a few minutes work Violet checked her reflection in a looking glass.

“I look like a princess,” she whispered in awe.

“I would hope so,” Genevieve teased, her demeanor relaxing now that she was no longer being fussed over by her servants. “Let’s go; we don’t want to be the last to arrive.”

Out in the corridor they found themselves swept
into a procession. Young women poured from every room to join the throng heading for the main hall. Arrayed in so many different colors, heads bobbing about, they made Violet think of them as a field of wildflowers waving gently in the breeze, all consumed by a single thought: Which one of them would be deemed worthy to be Prince Richard’s bride?

They descended the staircase, and Violet tried to get a good look at the girls around her. From what she saw, Genevieve was certainly one of the prettiest ones. Violet ran a hand over her hair, wondering how she compared and sure that she stood out as the outsider in the group.

I don’t belong here
, she thought, her stomach twisting in knots. When Violet reached the bottom of the staircase, she paused, watching as the others continued into the hall. Even though the king and queen had let her enter the competition, Violet didn’t have a prayer of winning. She looked at the other girls, with their petite figures, pale skin, and soft hands, and she knew she was nothing like them. She was fooling herself if she thought she could pass for a princess, let alone a delicate, sensitive one. Why should she try if she was destined to fail?

Genevieve glanced back, but Violet waved her on.

“Hello.”

Startled, Violet turned. She found herself staring into Richard’s eyes.

“Hello,” she said, her voice a bit unsteady.

“I’m sorry I frightened you.”

“No, it’s all right.”

“You look amazing,” Richard said.

Violet smiled. “Thank you for the dress.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t send it for you, although I wish I had thought of it,” he confessed.

“If it wasn’t you who sent the dress, then who did?”

“I honestly don’t know. But if I find out, I’ll be sure to thank them.”

A beautiful dog with long reddish-gold hair bounded up next to Richard and whined. “Hey, Duke, let me introduce you to the lady Violet.”

Violet extended her hand, and the dog sniffed it and then licked it. “He’s beautiful,” she said.

“Thanks,” Richard replied. He paused, then continued, “I’m sorry to hear about your mother’s health. She’s a wonderful woman. Is there anything I can do?”

Violet felt the smile fade from her lips. “Father Paul is doing the best anyone can. Thank you, but I don’t think anything can be done.”

Violet searched Richard’s eyes. There were so many things she wanted to say. The hallway became silent as the last of the chattering princesses disappeared from view. They were alone. Violet could tell him exactly how she felt, but somehow being in the castle was so much more awkward than walking around the farm.

The grand size of the building took her breath away, and she had been almost afraid to look at the tapestries that decorated the walls, feeling as though
a stare might ruin the delicate embroideries. At home they had to make things that would last and survive heavy use.

“I’m not quite sure why I’m here,” Violet blurted out. She had to talk to someone, and she didn’t think Genevieve would understand. At any rate, even if Genevieve might understand, it would mean explaining a lot more than Violet was in the mood to explain at the moment.

Richard stepped closer, and for a moment Violet forgot to breathe. He put a finger under her chin and tilted her head up toward his face. “There’s a question I asked you that you’ve never answered.”

He pinned her with his stare, and Violet felt the rest of the world melt away. It was as if only the two of them existed. Softly, he asked, “Is it me?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

Richard smiled and leaned in to Violet. She closed her eyes.

“Your Highness!”

Violet jerked, and she opened her eyes just in time to see Richard turn aside, a look of irritation on his face. The servant she had met earlier stood there, his eyebrows arched with vague disapproval. “Your parents wish for you to join them in the throne room.”

“Thank you, Steward,” Richard nodded. So the man was the steward, the one in charge of running the castle. No wonder he looked at her disapprovingly.

When Richard turned to excuse himself, he stared
at Violet with smoldering eyes. “Pardon me,” he said, bowing. “I’ll see you at the banquet.”

Violet nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Prince Richard strode toward the throne room after the steward, and after a moment Violet continued on in the direction the other girls had gone and quickly entered the great hall.

In the banquet hall Violet discovered that Genevieve had saved her a seat toward the head of the table, and she gratefully took it. Violet counted eighteen girls besides herself at the table. There were several others that she took to be parents or older siblings of some of the princesses.

“Did you come here with anyone in addition to your servants?” Violet asked.

Genevieve wrinkled her nose. “My cousin—he’s the one over there with the red beard,” she said, inclining her head to the left.

Violet saw that he was flirting with several ladies in his vicinity. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“So am I,” Genevieve said with a sigh.

Nearly all of the chairs at the table were filled, and it looked like almost everyone had assembled except for Richard and his parents. Violet was mesmerized by the high ceilings, the length of the table—which would take a good while to walk—and all of the ornate clothing. Even the lower-ranking servants wore finer clothes than Violet had ever owned.

The table was set with bunches of brightly colored flowers, gold and silver plates, and food she didn’t
recognize laid out in large bowls and platters. None of Violet’s dining companions seemed the least amazed or impressed by the setting or the food. She swallowed hard, reminded once more of what an interloper she was in Richard’s world.

Suddenly there was a collective intake of breath from the guests seated around the table. Violet turned to see what everyone was looking at in the doorway.

A young woman seemed to float into the room. She had raven black hair and eyes to match. Her skin was so pale Violet had to wonder if she’d ever seen the sun. Her face was proud and her posture rigid. Her magnificent golden dress put all the others, including Violet’s, to shame. She was the most beautiful woman Violet had ever seen. Several of the other princesses groaned quietly in dismay.

“Who is that?” Violet asked Genevieve.

“Celeste, the princess of Lore. Everyone thinks she’s the one to beat.”

“Just because she is pretty? The challenges haven’t even begun,” Violet said.

A girl to Genevieve’s left shook her head. “Don’t worry. Celeste is sure to win every one of them. When Celeste wants something, she gets it.”

Violet gritted her teeth. Why was it that the daughter of the devious Lore devils who had caused such turmoil and despair during the Great War looked like an angel? Violet had an abrupt desire to tear the other girl apart with her bare hands. Celeste’s parents had murdered the royal family—
my family,
Violet reminded
herself. She half rose from her chair, her hands clenched, before forcing herself to sit back down. By anyone’s measure engaging in a brawl during dinner at the castle was neither ladylike nor sensitive.

Celeste found her seat at the other end of the table. “Are you okay?” Genevieve asked.

“I will be,” Violet said, forcing a smile.

The steward clapped his hands twice to get everyone’s attention. “Majesties, Highnesses, lords and ladies, I give you King Charles, Queen Martha, and Prince Richard.”

Everyone rose to their feet as the royal family entered the banquet hall, and Violet followed suit. Richard walked beside his mother. Watching him at a distance, Violet was struck again by how handsome he was. He also seemed so different in this regal setting, as if he were far away in another world. And for an instant she forgot that he was her Richard, the Richard she had nursed back to health, the Richard she had shared a stolen moment with just minutes before, the Richard who had been leaning in to kiss her, again.

Once Richard and his parents were seated at the head of the table, the rest of the guests seated themselves. Then platters laden with the most exotic food Violet had ever seen, steaming and aromatic, were carried in. The food Violet had assumed was the main course had been only the cold dishes. As she stared at what was set before her, she realized that she was ill prepared to act like a princess, especially since she didn’t even know how to eat like one.