“Lord Cathraiche, welcome.”
They were met at the end of the dock by a handsome, middle-aged man dressed in royal livery so fine it could have been a fashionable suit.
“Mr. Valentin?” Lord Cathraiche asked, approaching the man with a hopeful smile.
“At your service, my lord,” the man bowed. “King Milas has sent me to greet you and to bring you to the palace directly. If you would care to follow me.”
Their entire party was quite a sight as they made their way up a slight hill from the dock and through quaint, stone buildings with red slate roofs. The entire Rathborne-Paxton clan, when taken together, was a mish-mash of colorful personalities and liveliness. Since the departure of Lord Vegas, the odious patriarch, to India in the fall, and following the colorful, if not always society-approved marriages of the brothers, the Rathborne-Paxton family had become a happy one. In Charlotte’s experience, they were all quite chatty when they were together, as was the case on their short journey from the dock to the palace. The journey was so short that they walked instead of taking a carriage, though Charlotte spotted a wagon gathering their baggage on the dock.
“The buildings are so beautiful,” Alice commented, escorted by Samuel on one side and holding Ryan’s hand on the other. “The way they’ve painted the fronts in such bright colors makes for a cheery sight.”
“It might even be enough to keep people happy through long, cold, possibly rainy winters,” Ellen said as Joseph helped her up a small flight of stone stairs.
“Is there a theater in Aegiria?” Nan asked, gripping Dean’s hand tightly as she glanced in every direction as they made their way down a wide, festively decorated thoroughfare lined with shops.
“Indeed, madam,” Mr. Valentin said as he led them all. “Aegiria has a long tradition of supporting the arts in all their forms.”
“I dare say they might like some sort of a production headlined by the famous—or perhaps now infamous—Nanette D’Argent,” Dean told his wife with a low laugh.
Their flirting continued, but Charlotte barely noticed it. She was too engaged in staring at the adorable shops and carts that lined the main road to the palace. She might have only heard about Aegiria recently, but the kingdom appeared to be thriving and peaceful, whether it was well-known or not. The shops they passed were filled with everything from embroidery to leather goods. They passed bakeries with displays of curled buns in their windows, and pie shops from which delicious scents rose up.
As they approached the end of the street—which seemed to open into an attractive square that could easily be the site of formal gatherings or proclamations—and the gates of the palace beyond, Charlotte noted that nearly every building had very specific bundles of holy, ivy, and intricately woven wheat stalks hanging above their doorways.
“What is the significance of the bundles of greenery over the doors?” she asked Mr. Valentin.
Mr. Valentin turned to her with a smile. “They are a Christmas tradition in Aegiria,” he explained. “Every house and shop creates their own unique design. The bundles hang over the doorways until Christmas Eve, when the royal family hosts a traditional ball. At the midpoint of the ball, a Christmas Princess is chosen from the guests, and all the bundles are presented to her as a sign of the love and loyalty of the Aegirian people.”
“Who ends up chosen as the Christmas Princess?” Nan asked, her face lighting up, as if she might enjoy the title.
“It can be anyone,” Mr. Valentin explained. “That is the point of it. The Christmas Princess could be a royal or a commoner. She could be someone whose family roots extend back into the mists of Aegiria’s past, or she could be a newcomer who stepped off the boat yesterday.” He smiled teasingly at Charlotte as he spoke.
Charlotte returned that smile fourfold. She liked that even a royal steward from the palace could joke with a woman like her. It spoke well of the attitude of the entire royal family.
Mr. Valentin showed them all into the palace, and once again, Charlotte found herself searching in every direction for a sign of Petrus. He wasn’t in the courtyard between the gate and the palace itself, although several brightly painted carriages were arranged as if on display. He wasn’t in the impressive front foyer either.
Charlotte glanced around that amazing room with as much awe as any of the Rathborne-Paxtons. And with good reason. The front hall—and, Charlotte assumed, the entire palace—was a magnificent blend of old and new. Everywhere she looked, the architecture was of a style that made her think of medieval splendor, perhaps even Viking glory. At the same time, the palace held a great deal of modern furnishings, and the air was neither too cold—due to a lack of fireplaces—nor too thick and stuffy.
“Lord Cathraiche?”
They all turned to find a beautiful woman just beyond her middle years approaching them. She wore a day gown in a style that would have made designers in Paris jealous, but her grey hair was tied up in braids that more closely resembled drawings Charlotte had seen of Scandinavian peasants.
“Welcome to Aegiria,” the woman greeted them all, coming to meet them with a bright smile.
“Your majesty,” Lord Cathraiche said, bowing deeply to the woman.
Charlotte, along with the rest of the Rathborne-Paxtons, gasped and dropped into curtsies and bows. She didn’t know how Lord Cathraiche knew Queen Sylvia, or how he had recognized the woman so quickly. Queens did not generally greet their guests in the foyer of their castles, or so Charlotte believed. She supposed it made perfect sense, considering what she knew of Aegiria, but it was still a surprise.
“What a lovely group you all make,” Queen Sylvia said, smiling broadly at her guests. Like Petrus, the queen spoke English perfectly, with only a slight, musical accent that was unlike any other Charlotte had ever heard. “We have been expecting you,” the queen went on. “Come with me. I will give you a brief tour of the palace, the end of which is a feast that has already been laid out to satisfy our hungry travelers.”
“Thank you, your majesty,” Lord Cathraiche replied for them all.
Charlotte was filled with warmth, and her excitement doubled as they continued from the foyer to a long hallway that must have run the length of the castle. Queen Sylvia said something to Lord Cathraiche, but Charlotte didn’t catch it. She was too busy craning her neck and peeking into every room they passed in search of Petrus.
They passed a great many rooms—parlors, a ballroom, and even a library containing a tall Christmas tree. Part of her wanted to stay back and explore the vast library more, but Petrus was not there. Everything was decorated beautifully, with the same sort of holly, ivy, and braided wheat decorations that had graced the city. Along with those arrangements were what seemed like miles of turquoise and green ribbon. Several shiny baubles were hung from the ribbon as well, giving the entire palace a festive air.
It was all lovely, but with every step Charlotte took, her heart grew more anxious. Petrus was at the palace, was he not? Everything he’d told her was true, wasn’t it? He was a beloved member of the royal family and resided at the palace along with the rest of them, was that not right?”
“Here we are,” the queen said at last, as they were led into a large but somehow still cozy dining room. “And not only is the feast already laid out, it seems you will have the privilege of meeting one of our other guests for the season as well.”