Princess of the Midnight Ball - Jessica Day George [9]
Ulrike’s fair brow clouded. “I’m sorry.” She noticed his blue tunic for the first time. “Did you fight in the war, too?”
“Yes. Yes, I did.”
“You’re very lucky that you weren’t killed.”
“Yes, I am.” Galen looked awkwardly at his wine.
“Did you ever meet—”
Reiner interrupted her with his toast. “To family! And to the family business!” He raised his glass high and they all joined him.
After they had drunk their wine, Ulrike persisted. “Did you know anyone by the name of—”
“Ulrike,” Uncle Reiner said, interrupting her again. “Don’t pester the boy. You know that I want no talk of the war in this house.”
“If my presence bothers you, I can go,” Galen said between gritted teeth. It rankled deeply that people who had never seen a battle should have such a strong aversion to the war. He’d actually seen people cross to the other side of the street to avoid passing him, and a man had spit at the sight of a crippled soldier begging outside the city gates.
“Of course your presence doesn’t bother us.” Reiner seemed genuinely surprised at the idea. “But in this house, we do not speak of the war. My son, Heinrich, is dead because of it.” Reiner pointed to the mantel with his wineglass.
There was a small oval picture there, with a wisp of black silk draped across it. Galen lifted the silk and looked at the picture. It was a portrait of a young man near his own age. He was standing beside a chair in the usual stiff posture of such portraits. He wore a dark suit and had his hair neatly combed, yet the artist had managed to capture what seemed to be a glint of mischief in his eyes.
“You can have Heinrich’s old room,” Tante Liesel said, her voice a bit muffled. When Galen turned around, he saw that she was dabbing her eyes, and Ulrike was looking into the distance and turning her wineglass around and around in her hands.
“Thank you.” Galen cleared his throat. “I don’t want to be a burden, though. I’d like to find work right away.” He had never been idle in his life, and the thought of it filled him with a sense of panic. Even if he had not felt beholden to his uncle, he would have wanted to start work soon. “I don’t know if you have need of an extra pair of hands, Uncle Reiner …?”
He felt just as anxious about this as he had about anything so far. He could turn his hand to anything, as long as he was given a chance to learn, but with so many men returning home, there would be a glut of unskilled laborers clamoring for work. He could read and write and do sums, but that was the extent of his education, and he doubted there was much need for a man who could knit a sock in four hours.
But Reiner nodded. “I’ve needed someone since Heinrich left. You’ll do well enough. Just as long as you’re careful with your feet, and don’t trample His Majesty’s pansies.”
Galen felt his eyebrows shoot up. What was his uncle talking about? “Sir, I don’t quite follow….”
“Don’t you know?” Ulrike gave a little laugh. “Papa is the king of the Folly!”
“What?” Galen still didn’t understand.
“Ulrike!” Tante Liesel looked shocked. “You shouldn’t say such things!”
Reiner shook his finger at his daughter. “It’s the king’s so-called Folly that keeps clothes on your back and food on the table, not to mention buys those books you spend all your time with.” He turned away from his daughter to look at Galen. “Our family has the very great honor of being King Gregor’s own gardeners,” Reiner said with obvious pride.
Princess
Rose bit her lip as she stood before her father. King Gregor was not happy. He was so very much not happy that a vein on his left temple throbbed and his face was nearly purple.
“This, this, this!” He waved the worn dancing slipper under her nose, unable to say anything else. “This!”
She heard one of her sisters snicker, and nudged the next in line, Lily, with her elbow. Lily passed the nudge on until it reached the snickerer. Poppy, probably. The thirteen-year-old thought everything hilarious of late. Rose wished that Poppy would follow her twin