Page 7 of A Tale of Ice and Ash
Bianca turned back to the carriage, and gestured for her son to join.
He did not look anything like his mother. He was dark and olive skinned, with a pinched, sour expression, as though he’d caught a whiff of something unpleasant.
“Prince Cole,” said Eirwen, dropping into a curtsey. “I am pleased to meet you, at last. Welcome to our humble kingdom. I am Princess Eirwen–”
“Ey-er-wen,” he repeated. “Oh, is that how you say it? We were wondering.”
“It’s an old name,” her father explained. “Her mother chose it before she passed.”
“It means Snow,” Eirwen added.
Cole snorted. “Figures. Makes sense. The snow princess of the land of rocks and ice.”
Eirwen wasn’t sure she much cared for his tone, but then he sniffed and sneezed into his flimsy cloak, and she decided that perhaps he was just tired from his long journey.
“We should go inside,” said the king, clicking his fingers for attendants and taking his bride’s hand. “You’ll both catch your death out here. You grow used to the climate quickly, though. We barely notice it anymore.”
“It doesn’t always snow,” Eirwen assured them. “Our summers are lovely.”
“Itneversnows in Florin,” said Cole. “It’s warm all year round.”
Eirwen wasn’t sure what point he was trying to make, and decided to ignore him.
Cole’s foul mood did not abate with rest. He was irritable all through supper, still sour in the morning, gloomy by the following afternoon, and downright miserable as the preparations for the wedding were underway. The only time she saw him remotely happy was during the opening dance when they welcomed the guests for the ceremony the next day.
But even then, he still found a way to be foul.
“Mother says I must dance with you,” he said, offering her a hand. His lips were thin and his eyes looked anywhere but her.
“Oh, of course,” she said. He pulled her roughly onto the floor.
“You’re not a very good dancer,” he commented after a couple of moments.
Eirwen tried to swallow her disappointment. “No, but I’m good at a lot of other things.”
“Like what?”
“Um, archery, for instance. Sewing. I’ve been told I’m quite good with a rapier, too.”
Cole scoffed. “You? With a blade?”
“Of course,” she said. “Don’t you practise?”
“Yeah, but I’m a man. Girls don’t need that stuff.”
Eirwen scowled. “In Aberthor, all royal children are taught swordplay.”
“What? You going to ride off into battle?”
“I don’t know,” she said, narrowing her gaze, “are you?”
Cole glared. “I’m done with this dance,” he said. “I’m going to find a partner who can actually do it.”
Eirwen watched him go, wishing he could take the sting of his words with him. He was not short of partners. Young though he was, he had a handsome face even then, and he wasa skilled dancer, no matter his temper.
The next day, they departed for the temple at the highest peak of the mountain. The wedding party split in two, the women to one side, the men to another. The queen was whisked away to the hot springs to bathe.
Eirwen and her ladies attended on her, but the queen dismissed them all.
