Page 48 of The Christmas Mittens
“Jet lag has found her,” I commented while she snorted and laughed steadily. “Let’s get you to your room so you can crash.”
“I’m so tired everything seems funny,” she snort/wheezed.
Her room was just as impressive but far less masculine. The room dedicated to the goddess of wisdom and war had softer tones, pale greens and golds, with a wall filled with shelves of books, a window that looked out over the maze, and a bath that held a huge shower and a clawfoot tub. Gilda stood in the middle of the room, eyes wide. With a giddy squeak, she pulled out her phone to make a short video to send to her friends. Her bag was also here.
“You can ring for a maid to unpack for you in the morning. They’re very well trained, and your personal belongings are sure to be safe. Since Mother said you could sleep in but also tacked on that you two would be leaving for your shopping trip after lunch, you should get some sleep, Gilda.”
“Okay, yeah, I feel pretty spacey.” She rose to her toes to kiss me on the cheek and then stood there looking up at Anders in confusion. “Before I knew you were a prince, I’d kiss your cheek…”
“I’m still that same man,” he whispered and ducked down for a peck on the cheek. Once we were back in the hallway, he blew out a shaky breath. “That’s why I didn’t tell anyone in Grouse Falls who I was, and why I traveled using Mother’s maiden name.”
“I understand your reasoning.” I took his hands in mine. “I promise I will not treat you any differently unless protocol demands.”
“There is no protocol in Grouse Falls,” he whispered and stole a soulful kiss. I wanted to tug him into my room so we could both watch the sun rise, but a security man stood about fifty feet away pretending not to watch a prince and a small engine repairman kissing.
“That is very true. I’m going to bed before I fall asleep standing up. See you tomorrow sometime.”
“Yes, we’ll tour the frozen gardens.”
That sounded marvelous. So after we said our good nights, I hauled my weary backside into the room named after a titan god and face-planted into his divine bed. The pillow smelled of sunshine.
“Apropos,” I sighed out before sleep claimed me.
Chapter Nineteen
St. Stephen’s Day, Saturday, December 26
I was dreaming of birds.
Woodpeckers, to be precise. This one, a downy woodpecker that I knew well as he had riddled the beams of my old shed trying to get at the carpenter bee larva, seemed to be incredibly persistent. So much so that the steady tap-tap-tap-tap pulled me from my sleep enough to realize that I was dreaming of birds. Face smushed into a pillow, I mumbled at the red-headed devil to stop pecking my shed. The rapping ceased. For a second. Then, a male voice took its place.
“Mr. Baxter, are you awake, sir?” The man at the door was German, maybe? Why was there a German man at my…oh yes, I wasn’t home at all. I was in Östermon. Moving to my back, I rubbed at my eyes to get them to open. The room was dark. I sat up, my head filled with cotton candy, and looked around with gummy eyes. Yep, I was sitting in the middle of a huge bed in the poshest bedroom I had ever slept in. “Sir? I’ve been instructed to come assist you to ensure you are ready for luncheon with Her Majesty in an hour?”
Oh crap. I fumbled about for my phone lying face down on a sturdy dark wood nightstand. When did I empty my pockets? A tiny flash of a memory of waking up, dumping my shit on the nightstand, then going to pee came to me. That would explain why I had shucked my pants somewhere but was still in my sweater.
“Yes, thank you. I’ll be down in time,” I called back while kicking off the covers. My pants went flying to the floor. Oh, and I now saw that I had removed one sock. Why just one? Who knows?
“If you would wish it, I can assist you? My name is Rolph, and I am a personal assistant to Prince Anders, one of two, but he has instructed me to aid you during your visit.”
Oh. That was nice. Not that I needed help, but if Anders had given the man an order, then I should accept the offer gratefully.
“Wonderful, yes, come in, please.” I hurried to pull the covers back over my legs to my chest as the door opened silently. A tall man in a dark suit with silver hair slid in. “Hello, yes, this is quite nice.”
“Good morning, Mr. Baxter. Shall I open the drapes?”
“Yes, thanks.” I sat there like a dunce as Rolph stepped lively to the windows to yank the heavy drapes open. The room was bathed in the bright winter sun. I blinked a few times and stared out at the view. “Oh my gosh,” I whispered, uncaring if Rolph saw me in my boxers and one sock, I had to get a closer look. I fumbled to the largest of the three windows to gawk at the snowcapped mountain touching the clear blue sky. “How beautiful.”
“Yes, sir, it is quite impressive.” I looked at Rolph securing a gold tieback around one of the panels of drapery. “Östermon was formed tens of thousands of years ago as a volcanic eruption.” He was an older man, I’d guess late fifties, very dignified, with a thin silver mustache to match his gray hair. His suit was navy,with a white shirt, a blue tie, and shoes so shiny they could blind a person. And here I stood with my hair on end in a pair of SpongeBob boxers and one sock. “When it was first colonized by Norsemen, they built a small keep atop the craggy slopes and called it Dragons Perch, in part I’m sure to instill fear into any who might dare to sail too close, and in deference to the ice dragons that roamed the cold waters of the North Sea.”
“It’s dormant, though, yes?” He nodded and pattered over to an armoire to find a robe. Not mine but a thick white robe with a fat sash. “Oh, thank you but that’s not mine.”
“Prince Anders requested your rooms be filled with all the amenities.” He held the robe out, so I slid my arms into it and tied it around my middle. “As to your question, yes, it has been dormant for centuries. The keep that originally sat so far above where the royal house sits now slid down into the sea and was rebuilt at the base of the mountain by King Torbjorn. The island has seen many visitors and quite a few invaders, which is why our people are such a fine mix of our nearby neighbors. Would you like me to call for some coffee while you shower and dress?”
Coffee did sound good. “Yes, thanks, cream and sugar, please. But if you tell me how to reach the kitchen, I can do it myself tomorrow.”
“It’s my pleasure to do so.” He pulled a slim tablet from the interior of his suit jacket, typed for a moment, and gave me a nod. “Done. It will be delivered shortly. Would you like me to unpack and lay out your wardrobe for today?”
“Oh, uhm, well, if that’s your job, then please do.” I felt like a dummy just standing there as Rolph set to work with efficiency. He moved with speed and within minutes was down to the bottom of my suitcase where my lone suit lay folded under my shaving kit. He placed the kit on the bed and lifted the suit jacket from the case with two fingers pinned to each shoulder. The man never said a word, but I caught the slight lift of one thick silvereyebrow as he assessed the suit that I had worn to get married and then, sadly, to bury my wife. “It might need pressing,” I offered.
