Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow (26 page)

“Me too.” The lass put one hand over his. “Maybe now that my brother and mother live in Christiania, we’ll be able to see each other again, once we get you home.”

“What do you mean?” He drew back, frowning. “Of course we’ll see each other, we’ll—”

She shook her head, guessing what he was about to say. “You’re a prince. A prince of my own country! I know what that means. You will marry a fine lady. And if I am lucky, I will marry a farmer or a woodcutter like my father. Askel has designs on marrying me to one of his wealthy city friends, but I’m not sure that I would care for that.”

Now it was the prince’s turn to shake his head. “No, no! I could never just let you go, after you’d saved me! And besides . . . I do love you.” He put his arms around her and kissed her tenderly.

Tears leaked from the corners of the lass’s eyes. This was beyond her imagining. Not the trolls, not the
isbjørner,
for all that it was the stuff of fairy tales come true. But that someone—a prince!—could love a woodcutter’s daughter whose mother hadn’t even loved her enough to give her a name.

“Would you—would you like to know my name?”

He pulled back and gazed at her in astonishment. “I thought that you didn’t have one.” Then he blushed. “Of course, you
should
have one.”

“I can speak with animals because I caught the white reindeer. It gave me a name, but I have never told anyone what it is.”

Asher raised both her hands and kissed them. “I
would be honored,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper.

Leaning in close, she breathed her name in his ear.

“That’s the most beautiful name I have ever heard,” he told her, holding her tight to his chest. “Thank you, Bellalyse.”

Of course, the lass thought the next morning, since trolls can only destroy, they should have known that the princess would ruin their plans. There was a bitter taste in her mouth, and she wanted to spit. It wouldn’t be fair to make the poor, captive servants clean up after her, so she just grimaced instead.

“Now, now,” Princess Indæll clucked at her, waving a beringed hand, “no need to look so sour. You’ll spoil the effect!” She stepped back to survey her handiwork.

The lass and Tova stood side by side in the princess’s dressing room. When she had arrived at Asher’s rooms that morning, the troll princess had not allowed the lass to leave. Instead Indæll had insisted, with an icy smile, that the lass attend her at the wedding. Now the lass was clad in a gown of green satin, and Tova in a gown of blue. Rollo had even been forced, protesting, into a tub. His gray fur had been brushed out and there was a green ribbon around his neck, tied in a huge bow behind his head.

“I have never had human bridesmaids before,” the troll
princess said. “I shall be the envy of every lady of the court!”

“I’m sure that your highness is already the envy of all who see her,” Tova said, bobbing a curtsy.

The lass gave her a look.

“Habit,” Tova whispered out of the side of her mouth.

Now the princess looked at the lass, who gritted her teeth, curtsied, and murmured something she hoped sounded like a compliment. It seemed to satisfy Indæll, and she went back to admiring herself in the huge mirror that covered the far wall.

For her wedding, the troll princess was attired in a gown of white satin. The shift underneath it was cloth of gold, and the bodice of the gown was thick with rubies and pearls. Her red hair was pomaded and curled and arranged to show off the heavy ruby-encrusted crown she wore. There was rouge on her cheeks, clashing oddly with her greenish gray skin, and her purple tongue kept peeping out to lick at the pink color slathered on her lips.

“I think I might be sick,” the lass whispered to Tova.

“I heard that,” the princess snapped, whirling. “If either of you do anything to ruin my wedding, I will hang you both by your thumbs from the highest tower!”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Tova curtsied.

“Yes, Your Highness.” The lass followed suit.

“Good.”

There was a soft tap on the door. “If Your Highness is ready, the court is waiting below,” a faun footman said.

“Is my prince ready?”

“He is, my princess.”

Indæll smirked at the lass. “Oh, good.”

Tova sidled closer to the lass. Using their full skirts as concealment, she took the younger woman’s hand in her own. The lass squeezed Tova’s hand. It was all she could do to keep herself from lunging at the troll princess and strangling her with one of the ropes of pearls the vain creature wore.

Princess Indæll’s smile widened, as though she guessed the lass’s thoughts. She stood and snapped her fingers. The pixies who had dressed her flew forward, bearing a heavy cloak. It was scarlet satin, lined with
isbjørn
fur. The lass clenched her jaw at the sight, wondering if the cloak was made from one of the princess’s former husbands. Seeing her look, the princess stroked the fur before gesturing for the pixies to drape it across her broad shoulders.

Indæll swept out of her dressing room with the pixies trailing her to hold up the edges of the cloak. The lass and Tova followed, and after them came various female creatures in livery. In the corridor they were joined by a dozen hideous troll maidens dressed in extravagant silks and velvets, draped with jewels and all atwitter over the wedding. They paraded through the palace to the grand ballroom for the marriage of the troll princess to her human prince.

The ballroom was hung with long banners bearing the
isbjørn
and jagged sword symbol of the trolls. Musicians played their strange music in a high gallery opposite the dais. On the dais stood the troll queen, her yellow curls shining, dressed in a blue gown trimmed with
isbjørn
fur and embellished with diamonds and silver embroidery. She held out her arms to her daughter, who strode through the crowd and embraced her mother. The lass and Tova took up positions on one side of the dais, and all turned to wait for the prince.

He marched in with a dozen young male trolls. It wasn’t clear whether they were his attendants or his guards; probably both. He wore a white tunic and scarlet cloak, and on his head was a circlet of gold.

Prince Asher took his place beside the troll princess on the dais, not looking at the lass or Tova. The lass’s heart squeezed at the nearness of him, and his apparent indifference, but she told herself that it was only an act. The bridal pair clasped hands and turned to face the queen. They made a ridiculous couple: the troll with her long nose and bulging eyes, standing head and shoulders above her young, handsome bridegroom.

The troll queen raised her arms. “Our people, rejoice! After languishing alone for a dozen years, our beloved princess, the beauteous Indæll, has at last found a prince worthy of her!”

Monstrous howls rose from the troll court. They
stamped and slapped their huge hands together in awful cacophony. Or at least, most of them did. The lass noticed that those trolls who were clad in skins and moss only scowled.

“And now, in the sight of those assembled, the most magnificent of our magnificent race, I shall join these two together.” The troll queen placed her hands atop the clasped hands of the prince and princess. “In the manner of our people you shall be joined together until one of you shall pass into the darkness below,” she intoned. “Until that dark day, Prince Asher of the humans, what do you offer Princess Indæll?”

“I offer all that I can offer: myself, until the day I pass into the darkness below,” the prince said in a monotone. “I shall protect her honor where it is challenged. I shall love her, and worship her, and submit to her until the end of my days.” It was plain that he was reciting a memorized speech.

There were more howls from the trolls, though the lass noticed that these were not as hearty. A few appeared bored, and the grim, old-fashioned trolls scowled even worse. Perhaps this was the speech required of all the princess’s husbands over the years.

“And now, Princess Indæll of the lands of ice and snow, what do you offer to Prince Asher?”

“I shall be a good wife, and shall love and cherish him all his days,” she simpered.

The lass shuddered, hearing the emphasis on “
his
days.” The princess, and everyone here, knew that she would long outlive Asher, but it bothered none of them. Well, none of the trolls, at least. The prince’s jaw tightened, and Tova clasped the lass’s hand again.

“But as an assurance of her wifely skills,” Asher said, “I wish for my bride to perform a task for me.”

The whole room froze. The lass felt cold sweat trickling down her spine beneath her satin gown. Then the trolls began to babble in low voices. It seemed that this had never happened before.

The prince lifted his hand and a centaur pushed through the crowd of watching trolls. It was the same centaur who had carried Asher to bed. He held a copper washtub full of water, and there was a small basket hanging from one elbow. With a flourish and a bow, he set his burdens down on the dais.

“Even when there are servants to do such work, a good wife should be able to wash her husband’s shirts as a gesture of fidelity,” the prince announced. “Or so it is said among my people.”

Tova snorted softly, and the lass gave her hand a little squeeze in reply. If this “saying” had been true, there were many wives who would have been judged poorly by their neighbors.

“He’s ruining the ceremony,” a large troll in a pink satin waistcoat shouted. There were murmurs of agreement.

“It
is
tradition, or have you forgotten that too?” one of the fur-bedecked trolls shouted back. “Go on, human!”

Asher continued: “I have here a fine nightshirt of which I am quite fond. Tallow has been spilled on the shoulder. If Her Highness would be so kind as to scrub it clean for me, without magic, it will prove to me that she is a good wife.”

“But I have never done such a
common
task,” Princess Indæll protested. “Surely there is some other boon you will ask? I would be pleased to perform magic for you.” She gestured, and a diamond ring appeared in her hands. She proudly held it out to the prince.

He took it and slipped it on one finger as if it was of no great consequence. Turning to the old-fashioned troll who had shouted for him to “go on,” Asher said, “Is it not your custom to grant the
first
request made?”

“Aye,” the troll agreed. He had only one good eye; the other was covered in a patch that looked like a whole rabbit skin. “Each shall request and grant one boon. She must wash the shirt. Without magic.”

“And if she doesn’t, the marriage is void?” The prince’s voice was blank, as though it didn’t matter to him one way or the other.

“Aye.”

“Thank you, Lord Chamberlain.”

“I think I might faint,” Tova whispered without moving her lips.

“
You
might?” was the lass’s tense reply.

Tossing her head, Princess Indæll strode over to the washtub. A snap of her fingers, and a chair was brought to raise the tub up for her convenience. From the basket she pulled the nightshirt and a bar of soap and dipped them both in the washtub with clumsy hands. Seeing the fearful look on the troll princess’s face, the lass could almost feel sympathy for her.

Almost, but not quite. She thought of Hans Peter and Asher, and all the others who had gone before. She thought of Erasmus, Fiona, and Mrs. Grey, swept away in the night. She remembered the three
mosters
and the endless cold that the trolls had brought to her homeland. Clutching Tova’s hand—Tova, who must remain behind while Asher escaped—the lass leaned forward to watch.

The stain on the white shirt did not wash away. Instead it turned black and began to spread across the linen. The harder the princess scrubbed, the darker and larger the stain grew. The princess’s face turned an ugly puce color that rivaled her rouge. Some of her curls straggled down from her coiffure and she tossed them angrily over one shoulder. The rings on her fingers snagged the soft fabric, so she ripped them off and threw them aside.

Rollo bent down and picked up two in his mouth, pressing them into the lass’s free hand. The lass looked over and saw the centaur putting several in the pocket of his tunic. He gave a ghost of a smile when he saw her watching.

Princess Indæll threw back her head and howled. As she did, her crown fell off her head, taking her hair with it. The red curls were nothing but a wig, and underneath, her scalp was sparsely stubbled with coarse gray hairs. The lass couldn’t suppress a gasp of surprise, loud enough that the princess looked up at her.

“You!” She pointed one long, dripping finger at the lass. “This is your fault, I know it! You horrible thing, why did you have to come here? You’ve ruined everything!” She lunged at the lass.

Rollo leaped in front of his mistress, hackles raised and teeth bared. Tova pulled a small knife from her own belt and took a step forward. The lass, for her part, stood her ground, clenching her fists and raising her chin.

“How is it my fault that you cannot perform a simple
womanly
task?”

With a shriek, the princess reached out her clawed hands for the lass. Rollo snarled and snapped at Indæll, catching a fold of her skirt in his fangs and tearing it free.

“Daughter, control yourself!” The queen’s voice was a whipcrack. “There is no need for all this unpleasantness.” She put a soothing arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “The humans will be dealt with in good time, each in their own way.” She bestowed an oily smile on Asher, and then a more menacing one on both the lass and Tova. “But for now, let us try again.”

Both mother and daughter plunged their hands into
the soapy water. Each grabbed half of the blackened shirt and scrubbed it as hard as they could against the washboard. Within seconds the nightshirt was black as pitch all over. The queen scrubbed so hard that she knocked her own wig askew, revealing bristling white hair. Her nose ran with the effort, dripping into the wash water and befouling it further.

“Stop!” The prince raised his hands. “It’s as plain as the nose on your face that you cannot do even this one simple task,” he told Indæll. “By the laws of your own people, this marriage is invalid. I will have no wife but the one who can clean this shirt for me.” Over the roars and howls of the troll court, he turned and beckoned to the lass. “Why don’t you try?”