Sophie practices her princess walk
“Come on now, girls!” Sophie groaned. “You can practice your princess walk at home! It’s time for our ordinary-lady march-up-the-hill!”
Astrid protested, “First we must descend the staircase!”
The “staircase” in question was the four short steps below the pillared court at Nothelm Keep, but Sophie knew pretend princesses could make them last as long as forty.
“Then descend! Descend! Double-time! Don’t you girls ever play at soldiers?”
Astrid stopped behind the first step and glared a silent disapproval at this unladylike proposal. “You have to announce us,” she reminded Sophie.
“Judaeus Appella! What are your names again?”
“I am Her Royal Highness Princess Hallveig of Hringarike,” Astrid said, “and Ardith is Her Serene Highness Princess Mildrith of Kiev.”
Sophie curtseyed before so much nobility and dutifully announced their highnesses to an empty court.
Sophie had never played at princesses herself—had played at soldiers, in fact, and even dressed up in her brothers’ clothes and gone into town—but she indulged these two little girls. They were both fatherless orphans, as she had been, and she had not been indulged enough.
She heard boots stomping up the steps behind her as the girls came mincing down.
It was the Duke’s stable master. He could not have been coming for her, for she and the girls had walked down from Bernwald on their own six feet, and they were about to walk back up.
And Sophie was glad. She did not care to speak to Wulsy. She knew that Wulsy knew that Estrid had been seeing K, and she suspected that he knew she knew, and she did not want him to refer to it and make it official. The matter was best left as it was.
Thus Sophie found herself performing a respectable princess walk across the court, hoping that she could stride past Wulsy with no more than a noblewoman’s courtly nod.
Wulsy waited until she was just abreast of him, and out of the side of his mouth he muttered, “A word with you, lady.”
Sophie stopped and spun to face him. It seemed that walking like a princess fostered a very royal sense of outrage.
“If I may,” Wulsy added. “It won’t take but a second.”
“Yes?”
“I just wanted to ask you to tell your friend there’s a new silver candle holder down in Saint Kentigern’s chapel. And tell her, every time someone lights a candle in it, a little prayer will go up for her baby in heaven, on top of the other prayer. Now and forever.”
Sophie stared at him. Behind her the girls ran about giggling, their princess poise laid aside for the moment. Sophie was royal enough for two.
“I see.”
“So will you tell her?” Wulsy ventured a small smile.
Sophie sighed. She spoke almost in a whisper, knowing how voices echoed in the small court. “Don’t you think it would be better if we simply let this lie?”
“I think she ought to know.”
“Do you? I don’t. They’ve had a chance to start forgetting each other. I think it’s for the best if they just let go. Both of them.”
“With all respect, my lady, that isn’t for me and you to judge. She can ignore the message if she wants. But she ought to hear it.”
“Do you truly think that any good is going to come out of that?”
“It might be some comfort to her.”
Wulsy had a face that was the very personification of male stubbornness.
Sophie shook her head. “It might also break her heart again.”
“That isn’t for me and you to judge. He’s not asking anything. Just offering that one thing to God, in her name. Making beautiful things is all he knows how to do, lady. That’s how he loves, and how he prays. So tell her that.”
Sophie had the despairing feeling that if she refused, a prayer would fly unheard and unanswered out of the world. She herself had already sent up so many throughout the last months, like doves from the Ark, and so far she had only received a single second-hand, week-old reply. Now Wulsy had brought this message to her, its white wings carefully folded between his hands, and for love’s sake she would have to carry it on.
She nodded sharply, like a princess, without inclining her head, and she called to the girls and walked away.
