Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow - Jessica Day George [87]
“He’s ruining the ceremony,” a large troll in a pink satin waistcoat shouted. There were murmurs of agreement.
“It is tradition, or have you forgotten that too?” one of the fur-bedecked trolls shouted back. “Go on, human!”
Asher continued: “I have here a fine nightshirt of which I am quite fond. Tallow has been spilled on the shoulder. If Her Highness would be so kind as to scrub it clean for me, without magic, it will prove to me that she is a good wife.”
“But I have never done such a common task,” Princess Indæll protested. “Surely there is some other boon you will ask? I would be pleased to perform magic for you.” She gestured, and a diamond ring appeared in her hands. She proudly held it out to the prince.
He took it and slipped it on one finger as if it was of no great consequence. Turning to the old-fashioned troll who had shouted for him to “go on,” Asher said, “Is it not your custom to grant the first request made?”
“Aye,” the troll agreed. He had only one good eye; the other was covered in a patch that looked like a whole rabbit skin. “Each shall request and grant one boon. She must wash the shirt. Without magic.”
“And if she doesn’t, the marriage is void?” The prince’s voice was blank, as though it didn’t matter to him one way or the other.
“Aye.”
“Thank you, Lord Chamberlain.”
“I think I might faint,” Tova whispered without moving her lips.
“You might?” was the lass’s tense reply.
Tossing her head, Princess Indæll strode over to the washtub. A snap of her fingers, and a chair was brought to raise the tub up for her convenience. From the basket she pulled the nightshirt and a bar of soap and dipped them both in the washtub with clumsy hands. Seeing the fearful look on the troll princess’s face, the lass could almost feel sympathy for her.
Almost, but not quite. She thought of Hans Peter and Asher, and all the others who had gone before. She thought of Erasmus, Fiona, and Mrs. Grey, swept away in the night. She remembered the three mosters and the endless cold that the trolls had brought to her homeland. Clutching Tova’s hand—Tova, who must remain behind while Asher escaped—the lass leaned forward to watch.
The stain on the white shirt did not wash away. Instead it turned black and began to spread across the linen. The harder the princess scrubbed, the darker and larger the stain grew. The princess’s face turned an ugly puce color that rivaled her rouge. Some of her curls straggled down from her coiffure and she tossed them angrily over one shoulder. The rings on her fingers snagged the soft fabric, so she ripped them off and threw them aside.
Rollo bent down and picked up two in his mouth, pressing them into the lass’s free hand. The lass looked over and saw the centaur putting several in the pocket of his tunic. He gave a ghost of a smile when he saw her watching.
Princess Indæll threw back her head and howled. As she did, her crown fell off her head, taking her hair with it. The red curls were nothing but a wig, and underneath, her scalp was sparsely stubbled with coarse gray hairs. The lass couldn’t suppress a gasp of surprise, loud enough that the princess looked up at her.
“You!” She pointed one long, dripping finger at the lass. “This is your fault, I know it! You horrible thing, why did you have to come here? You’ve ruined everything!” She lunged at the lass.
Rollo leaped in front of his mistress, hackles raised and teeth bared. Tova pulled a small knife from her own belt and took a step forward. The lass, for her part, stood her ground, clenching her fists and raising her chin.
“How is it my fault that you cannot perform a simple womanly task?”
With a shriek, the princess reached out her clawed hands for the lass. Rollo snarled and snapped at Indæll, catching a fold of her skirt in his fangs and tearing it free.
“Daughter, control yourself!” The queen’s voice was a whipcrack. “There is no need for all this unpleasantness.” She put a soothing