Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow - Jessica Day George [84]
“Ask her to do something that she can’t do,” the lass said. “If she can’t do what you ask, the marriage is invalid.” She pointed at the nightshirt, still gripped in the prince’s hands. “Ask her to wash this clean.”
“The princess does not like to lose,” Tova warned. “Neither does the queen.”
“But trolls are bound when they make a bargain,” the lass countered. She turned to the prince. “You have to make her promise that she will do what you ask, or let you go. Then ask her to wash it.”
Slowly the prince nodded. “It just might work.”
Tova gave the lass an appreciative look. “It’s a better plan than I can think of. But you had better be ready to run. There’s no guarantee Her Highness won’t take out her anger on you.”
“That’s true.” The lass sighed. “I’d like to be there to watch, but I should probably be waiting outside instead.” She clenched her fists. “And we’ll have to find a way to free you, too.”
Tova just shook her head and gave the lass a sad smile. “It will be worth it, just to see her lose another one.”
“Yes, lass, you must wait on the shore,” the prince said. He cast the nightshirt aside and came over to take her hands. “Stand on the shore and look to the south. If you feel the faintest breeze, call out to it.”
Tova caught sight of the clock on the mantel and made a face. “I’d best get back. The princess might send for me.”
She hugged them both and Rollo. Then Rollo, too, excused himself to go and lie by the fire in the sitting room. With one hind leg, he kicked the bedchamber door closed behind him.
“He always did enjoy the sitting room fire,” the prince said.
“Yes, he’s very lazy,” the lass agreed, looking down at her hands awkwardly. They were alone together, in a bedchamber, and there was no enchanted sleep to overcome them now.
“You’re very—”
“I just realized—”
They both laughed. “You go first,” the prince said. He sat down on the edge of the bed and scuffed his feet on the rug nervously.
“I just realized,” the lass repeated, “that I don’t even know your name.”
“Oh.” He screwed up his face and laughed. “Sorry. It’s a bit embarrassing, actually. My mother, rather like yours, was fond of old stories. I’m a prince, but I’m not the first son. I’m the third.”
The lass groaned. “Don’t say your name is Askeladden, please!”
“Close enough: it’s Asher. My father thought Askeladden too foolish and romantic. And there was always the chance that something might happen to my brothers and I would be king. King Askeladden was just too much for him. Even for my mother, really.
“Of course, we should both be grateful for her silly stories, or we never would have met.”
“What?” Feeling more comfortable, the lass sat beside him on the bed. “Why?”
“We heard tales, even in Christiania, of a girl in the forests who could speak to animals. Mother was all agog over them. That’s why I sought you out. I thought that if I could talk to you as a bear, I would be able to tell you what was happening. I couldn’t, but all the same I’m glad it was you I found.”
“Me too.” The lass put one hand over his. “Maybe now that my brother and mother live in Christiania, we’ll be able to see each other again, once we get you home.”
“What do you mean?” He drew back, frowning. “Of course we’ll see each other, we’ll—”
She shook her head, guessing what he was about to say. “You’re a prince. A prince of my own country! I know what that means. You will marry a fine lady. And if I am lucky, I will marry a farmer or a woodcutter like my father. Askel has designs on marrying me to one of his wealthy city friends, but I’m not sure that I would care for that.”
Now it was the prince’s turn to shake his head. “No, no! I could never just let you go, after you’d saved me! And besides . . . I do love you.” He put his arms around her and kissed her tenderly.
Tears leaked from the corners of the lass’s eyes. This was beyond her imagining. Not the trolls, not the isbjørner, for all that it was the stuff of fairy tales come true. But that someone—a prince!—could love a woodcutter’s daughter whose mother hadn