Page 40 of A Tale of Ice and Ash
“We’re not killing anyone.”
“You can’t expect to do this without bloodshed,” said Onyx. “It’s inevitable.”
“Maybe. But I want to avoid it if I can. I don’t want to start my reign with murder. It’s… it’s not me.”
Onyx looked at her. “You need to steel yourself.”
“I will,” she said. “But… please. Just hear me out. I need to go back to court. I need to understand what it’s like there… and I need to speak to Bianca myself.”
“You think she’ll talk to you, even in disguise?”
“I think,” said Eirwen, looking at Oakley, “that we might make her.”
∞∞∞
Eirwen began preparations the next day, gathering materials for her glamorous disguise. Oakley and Merry set to work on collecting the herbs for the potions they’d require. By far the most strenuous task would be creating a gown worthy to grace the halls of the palace. They were always a lavishaffair. Anything less than exceptional would blow her cover in an instant.
The dwarves had limited funds available for the purchase of fabric, so Eirwen went back Under the Mountain to loot not just for coin, but for crystals too, stitching them onto the skeleton of a gown painstakingly every night, sometimes with the help of Garnet, Ivy and Oakley, who were all deft hands. An old mask was recovered and repurposed. In the end, the only thing they bought was an old gown and frame, and a handful of new ribbons.
The creation at the end of the process was anything but worn and frayed. It was glittering, shimmering delight, a carpet of frost and starlight.
When Eirwen climbed into it, she barely recognised the woman in the reflection. At the same time, she was more herself than she’d been in five years. A princess once more.
A queen.
“Do you think we overdid it?” she asked Garnet as she laced her in.
Garnet grinned. “Not at all, love. You look splendid.”
They curled her hair, braiding it with silver thread and studding it with painted leaves. They lined her eyes with black, pulled on the mask, and rouged her cheeks and lips.
She descended into the main room. Wren and Merry whistled. Ivy and Juniper gasped. Onyx and Oakley nodded approvingly, the former still puffing on his pipe.
“Onyx! Tell your daughter how beautiful she is!”
Onyx turned to Ivy. “You look beautiful, love.”
“Onyx!”
“Oh, you meant the human one. I suppose she scrubs up well.”
Garnet sighed.
“I’ll ready the cart,” said Wren, standing up. “You sure about this next step?”
“I don’t think we have another choice.”
The ‘next step’ involved waiting by the roadside, covered and concealed, for the Von Transinberg carriage to go by. Eirwen had agonised over sending word ahead to Marie but had eventually decided against it, just in case the letter fell into the wrong hands, or Marie didn’t believe her. They weren’t so close that she could rely on Marie to recognise her handwriting, which had become somewhat scrawled and neglected in the past five years. In the end, the only thing they’d done was ask Niamh to double-check that Marie absolutely would be attending.
This was the safest way, although still risky if Marie travelled with a large, or heavily armed party. Knowing her friend’s dislike for people, and that her father never attended functions he could send his daughter to instead, Eirwen was hopeful that they wouldn’t be shot at.
The only challenge would be convincing Marie to let her use her invitation.
A whistle through the trees. A signal from Merry. The carriage had been spotted.
Eirwen inhaled deeply. No time to be timid. She stepped out into the road, holding up her hands.
“Halt!” she said. “I must speak with your mistress.”
