Chapter 36

In the slowly creeping daylight on the morning of the New Year Bella woke to the sound of music piping through her open bedroom window. She woke slowly, as if she surfaced from a warm, soft pool, and cracked her eyes open with a protesting groan atop her pillow as her senses came back one by one. Her bed was warm, as it always was, and as she slowly came back to herself she relished the softness of the sheets against her skin and the weight of the furs that were, while wholly unnecessary, a solid comfort that kept her snug. Her limbs felt heavy, as if they were not quite ready to relinquish their slumber to the calling of the day, and she turned her face to the pillow, breathing in the soothing smell of the lavender soap she favoured for her baths. Her plaited hair tickled her neck when it shifted from her shoulder and she twitched it away with clumsy impatience, refusing to open her eyes for just one moment longer.

Tucked up in bed was one of Bella's favourite places to be. She liked the warmth of the covers, the plush softness of the mattress. She relished those few moments before the sun forced her up and out into the great, wide world, but when her sleepy ears caught another drift of that soft, distant music, her curiosity rose and she pried her eyes open, squinting against the light from the window.

The room was awash in a glow of azure, as if the sky itself had spilled down from the heavens to pool in her room and her bed. Dawn, just cresting above the trees in the east, cast long, dark shadows striped with brilliant columns of light that danced on the wooden floor and painted stone walls. The air was cool—not hot or humid as the afternoons were apt to be—and she saw the effects of that coolness in the air outside. Trees, so distant that she could only see the tops, were engulfed in a white, damp haze of mist that she knew would dissipate the instant the sun rose high enough to touch the ground, and though it was still early, she could see no hint of white clouds in the sky. The day would be fine, she knew, and she was all the happier for it, for as eager as she was for the King's revelation at the end of the night, she was not sure her nerves could have lasted for a day of gloom and rain.

When she sat up, stretching her fingers to brush the blue netted canopy that was draped from the bedposts, her gaze fell on Alice who was curled upon the window seat near the head of Bella's bed. Her hair was loose and long, fluttering gently in the morning breeze and she had not yet dressed, but when she saw Bella watching her she grinned, curling her toes up beneath the hem of her nightdress.

"They're practicing," she said softly, nodding towards the grounds from which Bella could still hear the cheerful music. "Can you hear them, My Lady? They're practicing for tonight."

Tonight.

All at once, Bella felt the sudden and queasy rush of excitement that made her blood run cold and her heart thrum like the wings of a bird in its cage.

The last week of winter on this warm and balmy island had passed away in a blur, and it was so unlike the winters she was used to that Bella, caught up in the whirlwind of preparations and excitement, had hardly noticed the coming of spring. The seasons were milder here—there was no great divide between winter and summer, and only the solemn word of the learned scholars who studied the skies was proof of the passing seasons.

It had been a jolt when Bella had realized this. Without the snow to mark the winter, or the soft, fresh growth to mark the arrival of spring, Bella had not realized how much time had flown by, and how many things she must have missed. If her shaky count was right and the skies were to be trusted, it would be mid-March by now—a full seven months since her fateful departure from the airport in Seattle.

She had missed the beginning of school, where she had been set to start her new career. She'd missed Halloween and Thanksgiving. She'd even missed Christmas, and all the celebrations that came along with it, and this fact hadn't even occurred to her until just a few days prior, when she'd been walking with Edward along the upstairs gallery to look at the artwork. She had thought nothing of it—had not even spared it a passing thought—and only when she'd caught sight of the brilliant white snow caps atop the tallest mountains in the west had she paid it any mind.

It had been that snow—so crisp and white in the clear afternoon—that had made her stop. She'd stared at it, stricken dumb by her own realization, and had remained so long enough for Edward to grow concerned. He did not know about snow—not beyond his fleeting understanding of the unreachable mountain summit—and when he asked her gentle, halting questions about what exactly it was, she'd been at a complete loss.

Cold water, she'd said. Cold, hard water… Where she was from, it fell from the sky. When she was young, she'd used it to make her own castles and forts. Children made it into balls and threw it, or rolled it in the shape of men to dress up. If you were careless, it would make you slip and fall. It was cold—oh so cold—and if you held it too long, it would burn you and then melt…

Edward, seeming to sympathize with her sudden discontent even if he did not quite understand its cause, had fallen conspicuously silent and had said no more about this mystery. She knew he did not understand—how could he, really?—and she was ever so grateful when he'd left her with her thoughts, his silent presence beside her warm enough to keep off the chill of those sudden and vivid memories.

But today—this clear and beautiful day—was not a time for sorrow. It was not a day for remembrance, or sadness, or grief, but a day of celebration. The arrival of spring was a symbol here as it was in many other places, and even Bella was not immune to its significance. Today was a day of renewal—of new beginnings and budding dreams—and she could only hope that the people would be as happy with the gift that the King would give them as she was.

She hoped she would be worthy, and she hoped she would be strong.

The song outside picked up again and Bella smiled to hear it. Music was a rare pleasure on the island, though Edward had assured her that his people adored it, as skilled and ready players were very difficult to find, even in the city. Bella heard the songs with bemusement, disbelief warring with her love as she took it all in.

Strings and pipes and drums and bells… the music of the island. It was the music of the past, so like the songs people must have heard a century or two prior, but no matter how strange or familiar the tune, she knew it to be a beautiful and unmistakable herald of her future.

She closed her eyes with a frightful joy that made her pulse race furiously and she turned away from the window when she felt the coarse shiver that ran all the way from her head to her toes.

"My Lady?" Alice's fingers tickled the nape of her neck and Bella, startled, glanced around. "Are you alright?"

Her girlish face shone with such undisguised concern that Bella had to laugh, and the noise seemed to soften the child, who suddenly relaxed with a grin of her own. Alice did not know what the King intended to present to his people at sunset—Bella had kept mum on the subject, no matter how many times Alice had asked her—and so she couldn't know just how terrified Bella really was. The girl was clever and smart, it was true, but she was a child still. She did not yet understand the subtleties or inferences of womanhood, and so when she saw Bella's happy smile she did not question the joy she saw there, and it did not occur to her to inquire for details that might have revealed more.

Bella's next words banished the child's doubt altogether and she watched with a fond indulgence as a girlish, giddy excitement overtook the worry. She spoke truth—an incomplete truth, perhaps, but a truth nonetheless—and her honesty only made her more believable.

"I am wonderful, Alice," she said. "I am absolutely, positively wonderful."

When Bella had been washed and dressed and combed and styled, the sun peaked overhead and the day struck noon, marked by the rising crescendo of such vibrant and lively music that Bella, watching her own astonished reflection in the polished looking glass, fell silent in wonder.

"It's starting," said Alice, so soft that Bella turned to see her. The child was beaming from ear to ear, her little face lit up as her hands wrung the skirt at her waist. Bella felt a queer pride in her chest as she took in Alice's brightness, giving her an approving nod that made the girl blush.

"Very sweet, Alice," she complimented, and the child fairly bounced with glee. "Very pretty."

"Thank you."

The child had spent the better part of the morning running to and fro like a little worker bee, fussing over Bella to, in her own words, "make her ready for the party". Bella, naive as she was, had absolutely no idea what such preparations would entail until the girl got started, and Bella was soon subject to an intensive and in-depth education.

Parties, Bella learned, were very special affairs that required extra special attention. On a regular morning, she would have risen and washed, running a wet cloth over herself until she smelled fresh, and saving her real bath for the evening when she would have time to dry her hair by the evening fire. She would have chosen a dress— one of the many she now owned— with familiar long sleeves, a coloured vest that buttoned up the front, and sandals made from wood and suede like those she'd had at Terosankta. Sometimes Alice would give her a belt, other times a necklace or a pearl ring, but her look was hardly varied, however sensible it might be.

Today had been an entirely different affair.

Instead of preserving her nightly bathing ritual, Alice had called for extra maids as soon as Bella was out of bed to heat the water and fill the tub. She'd washed her body and her hair, languishing in the hot, scented water for only a moment longer than necessary before she'd been hurried out and settled before the unusually warm fire glowing in the grate.

Alice had combed her hair, weaving it over and around itself until it was twisted so fantastically that Bella, eying it in the glass, had brought her fingers up to touch it. There were pins galore, along with hidden ties and ribbons to keep it secure, and only once she'd sat before the flames, head bent uncomfortably close to the fire, had Bella realized what Alice's plan really was.

There were no curling irons on the island— in fact, when Bella had mentioned such a contraption to a curious Alice just a few weeks prior— she'd been shocked and horrified at the very thought. Hot metal was for cooking only, and the very idea of bringing a heated rod near one's head and face was enough to make Alice very wary of Bella's own hairstyling techniques.

When the hair dried, Alice released it from its bonds and it fell in long, soft curls that she refused to brush out, choosing instead to pin it away from her face and let the rest of it bounce down her shoulders and back.

Bella's party dress was another animal altogether.

In her old life, when she'd lived among her own familiar creatures, Bella had not considered herself any kind of style icon. She had worn comfortable clothes, and comfortable shoes, and had never— not even for her senior prom, which had been an unmitigated disaster— worn any kind of garment that made her feel foolish.

It had been an adjustment when she'd awoken in the castle. On the island, women did not wear pants, and so any hope of spandex and elastic had gone out the window. Skirts were always long— as long as any of her own maxi skirts back in Washington— and arms were always covered, despite the heat and the sun. Bella had grown used to this— had grown so comfortable and familiar with the daily routine of dressing that when Alice carried in a bundle of silvery fabric draped over one arm, Bella had initially thought it was an undergarment.

"Where's the rest of it, Alice?" Bella had demanded, glancing down at her bare, pale arms and the creamy expanse of her back as she glanced over her shoulder to the mirror. "This can't be all of it…"

"It's a party dress," Alice had replied and Bella, attuned to Alice's easy moods and open face, had read the disbelief and exasperation in her voice. "It's not a day dress, My Lady… it's a party dress."

And what a party dress it was.

Made of some kind of light and satiny fabric that glistened in the sunlight, it was a long and flowing dress that fell well below her ankles. The waist was cinched and narrow— almost too tight, even for her slender frame— and the front of the torso was high and modest. The neckline came almost to her collar bones, well high enough to prevent any undesirable cleavage, but the back of it left much to be desired.

The modest neck finished in thin, shiny straps that held the whole thing up on her shoulders. They came up and around, joining with a thin strip of fabric on either side that connected to the skirt, but between those straps and the cinched, tight waist there was nothing at all but some laced straps, the same width and fabric as that on her shoulders, leading all the way from her shoulder blades to the very small of her back.

She'd never worn a backless dress in her whole life and she felt strangely exposed, though Alice had assured her that it was just so.

In the present, Alice surveyed her work with prideful appreciation.

"You look beautiful," she gushed, recovering from Bella's compliment in an instant. "You are lovely."

The dress Alice had chosen for herself— one that Bella had allowed her to take from the endless supply of small, girlish clothing she'd been given by the locals— was of pale green cotton cut in a fashionable style very similar to Bella's own dress, but without such a defined waist and with a full and covered back. Her sleeves, like Bella's were absent altogether, and that fact had made Bella feel infinitely better about her own adornment. Alice had delighted in the act of dressing— she had taken almost as much care with her own toilette as she had with Bella's, and had been openly giddy when Bella had given her free reign over her collection of combs and hair things to borrow for the occasion. Bella had watched with amused chagrin as she carefully sorted all of Bella's poorly-used tools and instruments, selecting a variety of gold and pearl pins to fasten her hair at the nape of her neck, smoothing it so completely that there was not one stray wisp out of place. The dress, and the shoes, and the hair made the child look terribly grown up, and Bella, glad to have given her some pleasure for such a momentous occasion, did not begrudge her one single hairpin.

"You will be a sensation," said Alice with relish and Bella, jolted back to the present, said nothing. "You will be an absolute sensation…"

A knock on the door cut her short and Bella, startled by the noise, glanced over towards the antechamber.

"Are we decent, Alice?" she queried jokingly. "Are we fit to receive?"

"Fit for Kings and paupers alike," she quipped cheekily. "It is a feast day, after all."

Bella, laughing, went to open the door.

She knew who it would be before she had even touched the latch, but even still, when she pulled the door open, she felt her breath catch in her throat at the sight of his handsome and crooked smile. He stood on the landing in his own party clothes— a deep green tunic tucked into tight and fitted breeches— and Bella saw with some surprise that he did not have his usual sword hanging from his belt. He beamed at her, taking her in from head to toe, and Bella turned her head away from his gaze to keep her own embarrassment away.

"Good day, Bella," he said warmly, and she stepped aside to let him through. Behind him, lingering in the shadows, was Jasper, dressed similarly to his brother, though his tunic was red, and bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet.

"Come in," she urged, and Jasper flashed her a winning smile before he ducked inside as well. As he always did when he came to her, he looked eagerly about the room for Alice. "Come in, and sit."

"You look lovely, Miss Bella," said Jasper before Edward had the chance to speak. His roving eyes found their mark when he spotted Alice in the shadows, and at once, his face lit up. "And you look lovely too, Miss Alice."

Alice, looking affronted and pleased in equal measure, ducked her head to hide the blush, though Bella caught it and laughed.

"She does," agreed Bella easily, and the child turned even redder. "She absolutely does… a big change from the usual uniform."

Alice, stricken dumb, said nothing at all.

"Are you done with her, Bella?" asked Jasper. "Edward says I can take her with me, if she wants to come…"

"I've finished with her, and she's free to go," said Bella at once, and Alice, astonished, snapped her head up. "If you want her, she's yours."

Alice blinked stupidly at him.

"Me?" she queried, eying her suitor with some suspicion. "What do you want with me?"

"To go downstairs," said Jasper mildly. "And then to go outside."

"With me?"

"If you want to."

"If I want to?"

"I'll hardly carry you there," said Jasper tartly and Bella saw the return of the blush with a vengeance. Her cheeks went blotchy and her chin jutted out and Bella wondered for a moment whether she was going to refuse, but she simply curtseyed to Edward, hugged Bella around the waist, and walked, head held high, past Jasper to the landing, where she marched ahead of him down the long spiral staircase.

Jasper followed after her with astonished glee and Edward, laughing outright, shut the door behind them.

"He's going to have a shock with that one, I think," he said. "The girls go absolutely wild for him in town, and he's chosen the one girl in the Kingdom who seems as cold as frost."

"Alice isn't cold," Bella tutted. "She's… sensible."

"A sensible woman will go far," said Edward. "If she is so, I praise her for it."

Bella took his hand, wishing to say nothing further on the subject, and led him to the sofa, pulling him quickly down beside her so that the decorative cushions fell to the floor.

"I did not come here to sit," he said mildly, though when she leaned her head against his shoulder, he did not try to move. "I came here to fetch you."

"Consider me fetched," she teased. "I'm perfectly well here, for a little while."

They sat together in silence for a moment longer, each savouring the sound of the skillful music pouring in through the high, open window. Bella liked the pipes, which sounded loudest at their height, and she closed her eyes for a moment, letting him rest his hand on her bare shoulder, his fingers tickling the skin near her neck.

Fiance. She'd thought the word several times to herself over the past week, but no matter how hard she tried, it had not yet sunk in. This was the man she loved, she thought. This was the man she would marry.

Bella grinned, thinking of her mother's horrified reaction if she could have ever found out that her daughter— her sensible, pragmatic, and stoic daughter— had agreed to marry a man she'd not even known for a year.

"What's so funny?" Edward teased, and Bella felt a poke on her side. She squirmed away with a laugh. "You look pleased."

"Just… thinking," she returned at once. "Nothing to signify…"

"I beg to differ," said Edward. Bella surveyed him with interest. "But if you'd rather not tell, I won't press."

"It's nothing. I'm only thinking of what my mother would say about this."

"About what?" he asked. "About this?" He tickled her side again. "Or about this?"

He pulled her to him— just tight enough so that she did not slip down— and she made herself relax into the hold so that he sighed, shifting her carefully so to wrap both arms about her. Bella did not answer out loud, but let her contented, happy smile speak for her.

"You don't know how I like to sit like this," he said and Bella, quite content, nodded her agreement. "You're so warm, Bella…"

She felt lips on the crown of her head— soft lips, and lips that lingered just long enough to make the kiss seem a little too restrained. To be fair, he had never kissed her properly, something Bella had sorely lamented, but she knew that until their union was cemented by the bond of betrothal, the most she could expect was a secret embrace like the one they shared now, or perhaps a quick peck if he could be sure no one else was watching. The Maronese had strict rules about such things— they were private, and they were chaste, and Bella had learned, after some awkward and confused questioning, that it was considered a gross breach of etiquette for a man to importune a lady to whom he was not married or promised. Edward had made himself quite clear when she'd asked— if he'd been allowed he'd have kissed her silly in an instant, but as it stood now, he would be doing her a great insult to even think of it.

Though Bella knew that he'd already thought about it, and he'd thought about it more than once if she'd understood the glint in his eye when he thought she wasn't looking.

"I suppose," she sighed, once his face had left her hair, "that we ought to move on…"

"I suppose you're right," he said. "We ought to go, though I must admit, I'm rather reluctant."

"Your people are waiting…"

"Your people are waiting too," he countered. "After tonight, they will be your people as much as they are mine."

Her stomach lurched with sudden nerves. The thought of being Queen— of that old-fashioned and ludicrous title being bestowed upon her of all people— tied her stomach in knots. Edward, growing more familiar with her moods and humours, caught on at once and shook his head.

"It's not a problem for today," he said at once. "Not even a concern for such a day as this… I've got other reasons for lingering, and they've got nothing to do with worry."

"Have you?"

"Indeed I do," he said. "I wanted to catch you alone… it would not do for your maid to see what I've come to do."

Bella, suddenly red-faced, sat up with such a look of astonishment that Edward had to laugh. Bella laughed too, despite her sudden queasiness, and the two fell into such a fit of giggles that she was surprised the guard outside did not poke his head in to check on them.

"You do have a way with words," she said, brushing a tear from the corner of her eye. "What a thing to say!"

"I did not mean it like that…" His cheeks were flushed red with amusement and shame. "I didn't mean… that."

"What did you mean then?" she asked. "I must know, now that you've gone and said it."

"I mean that it would not do for Alice to see, nor would it be right for Jasper, either. There are customs on the New Year, after all, and they must be observed."

"Customs?" Bella asked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean just this: I am supposed to give a gift tonight."

"I know…"

"And it is a gift for all the people."

"Right…"

"And everyone will enjoy it."

"I know that…"

"But then you see my problem," he continued. "I can't give my gift to everyone in the Kingdom."

Bella blinked, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"You're a part of my Kingdom," said Edward easily, "and I can hardly give you yourself."

Bella thought on that for a moment.

"It's gift enough to be beside you," she said, feeling foolish and small. "I don't need anything else."

"I am not a surprise," Edward chuckled. "Indeed… I daresay I'm more burden than gift."

Bella bit her lip to keep back her retort. If there was any burden in their relationship, it was surely she, who had done nothing but take since she'd arrived on the island.

"You're not a burden," she said at once. "You've never been a burden…"

"You accepted a great and troublesome burden when you agreed to be my wife," he countered at once. "You accept me, and you accept my role."

"Your role?"

"It is not mean feat, ruling a Kingdom," he said. "It is not as glamorous, or as exciting, or as simple as others seem to think."

"Nothing in life is ever glamorous, exciting, or simple," Bella countered. "It's more often than not mundane, and boring, and complicated."

"I surely hope not," laughed Edward and Bella, shaking her head, sat up straight. "I hope that there is some excitement, at the very least."

"Well…" The music rang louder and Bella felt that familiar quickening of her pulse. "Maybe."

Edward breathed a deep sigh.

"I've not told Jasper," he said. "I've not told him what we're doing."

"Does he suspect?"

"He's clever," admitted Edward, "so I do not know for sure. He might know, for all I can say. But he's not heard it from my lips."

"Nor mine… but why haven't you told him?"

"Because he'd tell Alice," said Edward at once. "He's sweet on her, you know…"

Bella stifled a grin.

"He'd tell her, if she asked, and I know full well that she will ask, because she's cornered him already to hear what he knows."

"She's very curious…"

"She's very persistent," he laughed. "That child has sent my brother into an absolute frenzy. Do you know… I've caught him lurking more than once, trying to listen on my private conversations?"

"He's been spying?"

"He's been trying," corrected Edward with a snort. "He's clever, I'll give him that, but he's not a sneak."

"I see…"

"He listened all the while I was talking to Lorenzo after the council meeting yesterday," he went on. "Sitting in the shadows beside a column as if for all the world we couldn't see him. Luckily, I was only discussing a vendor, so there was nothing to tell…"

"How do you know he was spying?"

"Because he told me so when I asked him," he answered at once. "He's many things, my brother, but rarely a liar."

Edward grinned down at her.

"Alice put him up to it," he continued. "He told me that too. I don't blame the girl— she's only a child, after all— but it does amuse me to see him so enamoured."

"She's a sweet thing," said Bella loyally. "A good, sweet girl."

"I don't doubt it…"

"Not cold at all," she went on. "Only kind."

"To you, at least," said Edward sagely. "I overheard them at dinner… I don't think she's got a bit of use for any man, let alone Jasper."

Bella laughed again and sighed, leaning her head back against the sofa cushion. Alice had told her about the life she'd lived before she'd lost her family— growing up with brothers had made her rather hardy, and Bella was sure that the tender, well-bred prince had never encountered such a rival in all his thirteen years.

"She'll make him run, I'm sure," said Bella finally, and Edward shook with mirth. "She'll lead him on a merry chase."

"Good," replied Edward. "He needs a challenge. It's about time someone taught him that the world is not his oyster."

"Poor boy…" Bella shook her head in sympathy. "He's a kind child too, Edward, even if you don't see it…"

"Kind to you, undoubtedly," agreed Edward merrily. "Kind to everyone else? Not quite."

Bella did not argue, no matter how badly she felt the urge, and though she knew that he knew she had more to say, neither of them commented further.

"I did not wait here to talk of Jasper either," said Edward finally, after a long moment of silence. "I began to say…"

"You talk of gifts," said Bella. "I do not need gifts…"

"No one needs gifts," he countered tartly. "That's the very nature of the word. They are unnecessary."

"And so why bother?"

"Because I want to," he said. "And because I think it's right."

"I've nothing to give you," she countered, rather shamefaced. "I've nothing in the world that you might need…"

A peculiar look crossed his face in an instant and Bella, feeling awkward and uncouth, watched it flicker. Had he been any other man she might have taken it as annoyance— a peculiar flash of brightness about his eyes, a tension around his mouth, and a sharp breath that ghosted across her hands, which were held tight beneath his bent head to stop their fidgeting. When he finally replied he spoke slowly and deliberately and Bella, for her part, took it all in without comment.

"A gift is not about need, Bella," he said. "I do not give the people what they need. I give them what they want. It is not my day to receive gifts— especially not from you— but understand me well when I say that you have everything in the world that I might want."

She understood his meaning without having to ask and felt a smile at the corners of her mouth, despite her best efforts to keep it away.

"Today is my day for giving," he continued. "Not yours. And so…" He glanced towards the door, trailing off into silence.

"And so?" she prompted. His attention, diverted towards the closed antechamber door, snapped back to her at once. He grinned again, a little less sure of himself, and carefully extricated his arms from behind her back.

She felt the loss at once and mourned the warmth, but was immediately curious when he moved to stand.

"I've brought you something that I hope you'll like," he said finally, and Bella, too, stood up. "It's… not entirely conventional, but it is something I hope you'll enjoy."

"I don't need a gift," she said again, though her protest was feeble now. "I don't need…"

"No, but I hope you'll love it anyways," said Edward indulgently. "Close your eyes."

And Bella, suspicious, curious, but dutiful, did as she was bid.

The dark behind her eyelids made everything seem louder. She heard Edward breathing, not far from her, before he sighed, and she heard the shuffling of feet on the wooden floor. She stayed where she was, hands up around her face to prevent herself from spoiling the surprise by peeking, and she listened as the door was opened, words were exchanged on the landing, and Edward's voice called out:

"Bring it in!"

What noise she heard after that, Bella could not be sure.

The floor outside the bedroom, on the landing of the antechamber, was not made of wood like the floor of the bedroom. It was stone— cold, hard, unforgiving stone— and as Bella waited in suspense in the dark, she heard a curious noise from the space outside. It sounded like grinding— like something hard and heavy being pulled across the ancient rock, until there was a clatter and a squeak, and something rolled smoothly over the warmer, polished wood.

It rattled. It clanged. It squeaked— a strange, high squeak that sometimes turned into a squeal— and it rustled. She heard metal on metal, and metal on wood. She heard scratching, as if someone ran their fingernail over the wooden surface of a varnished table, and there was dripping— a slow drip, drip, drip that changed to a plop when whatever the thing was came to an abrupt halt to her left.

She stayed like that— eyes covered and bewildered by sound— until she heard a cry, and she was so startled that her hands dropped from her eyes and she stumbled back, blinking in utter shock at the thing before her.

"Surprise," said Edward, standing nervously in the doorway to the landing as she surveyed the great, heavy golden cage, in which was perched a small, soft, fluffy green bird.

Bella blinked in astonished surprise at this tiny little thing, with its bright orange beak and glossy black claws. The creature stood atop his wooden perch, eying her with friendly black eyes like great, shining buttons, and when she let out her breath, unable to help the small, appreciative noise in the back of her throat, the little creature chirruped.

"It's a male," said Edward as Bella approached the bars, delighted when the fledgling scampered up the side of the cage to greet her. His head cocked and his feathers ruffled he chirped again, pressing his feathered cheek to the place where her fingers rested. Bella had never had a pet bird— had never been this close or this familiar with one of his kind— but when that little soft head touched the pad of her finger she pressed it through the bars to scratch, letting him bend his neck this way and that to press her fingers to his most favourite spots.

"He's got no name." Edward spoke from just behind her, watching their greeting with pleasure. "We thought we'd leave it up to you," he said.

The bird chirped again, his sharp, orange beak nibbling at her fingernail and she turned to him, her heart hammering.

"Is he…" She stammered, unable to speak the way she wanted to. "You mean… he's…"

"He is yours, if you want him," said Edward softly. "I know it is a great responsibility, to give you a pet, but he is hand-raised and he's quite friendly. He's very used to people."

"He's lovely," Bella gushed, feeling the colour rising in her neck. "He's gorgeous."

"He is my gift to you, if you'll have him," he said again, this time with more confidence. "He's one of our own, from the castle roost. He was chosen especially from the newest hatchlings by the keeper…"

"For me?" She bent down to face the bird, who had lost interest in her fingers and was now aggressively preening himself. "You got him… for me?"

"I chose him for you," said Edward. "Do you like him?"

"I love him," Bella said at once. "He's absolutely beautiful!"

"So you'll take him?" asked Edward anxiously. "He's been hand-trained, and they're quite intelligent…"

Bella, having absolutely no doubt in her head, immediately turned to embrace him. The guard at the door— the one who'd helped carry up the great, heavy cage— turned in embarrassment, but Bella was unperturbed and unmoved. Edward relaxed the moment her arms touched him— she hadn't even realized he'd been tense— and he enveloped her so completely that Bella's voice was muffled by the green fabric at his collar. His hands, steady and warm, pressed into the bare skin of her back.

"Thank you," she said. The little bird whistled at them. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

When they walked out into the dazzling afternoon sun, Bella let the nervous flutters in her stomach erupt into a flock of butterflies that beat their tiny wings. Edward held fast to her hand, his fingers squeezing reassuringly when he felt her tremble, and they moved past the servants, who stared, and the guards, who grinned, to the portcullis gate that led to Market Street, beyond which lay a veritable bounty of colour and sound, blurred by the dust kicked up by the thousands of feet that crowded the road.

"Are you ready?" asked Edward.

Bella only nodded.

"Then come," he said. "If we play our cards right, we might just blend in."

Bella highly doubted it.

When the gate was opened and two guards went out ahead of them Bella saw with resignation how heads turned at once towards the palace, and fell immediately to their clasped hands. Edward smiled at her, completely unperturbed by the attention, and Bella, determined to have a good time, held her chin up high.

"That's the spirit," he chuckled. "Now come along. There is much to see."

Together they walked, hand-in-hand, down the long, busy street lined with carts and stalls. Shaded awnings kept the sunlight off of the road, and though it was still warm and dry, it was much cooler than it might have been without the shade. Bodies were packed along the road— stalls were overwhelmed by buyers, coins were spilled upon the dirt. Voices shouted into the din, haggling and bartering for better prices or quality fruits, and Bella, jostled by some scampering children, laughed when Edward's hand shot out to keep her upright.

His concern for her, however, was ultimately needless, as when people saw their King and his companion they made way at once, forcing their giddy and scrambling children to the side to allow him passage through the street.

"They're staring," said Bella in an undertone, and Edward glanced mildly about. It was true— whichever stall they passed would stop its sale, heads turned and necks craned to catch a glimpse of their monarch. They bowed to him— low, deep, respectful bows that he acknowledged in turn— and when they noticed her, they gave her an odd little dip that made her cheeks turn pink.

"Let them stare away," said Edward without care. "They'll have a lot more to say about it by the end of the night."

Bella supposed this was true, and she made up her mind right then and there to put her embarrassment out of her mind.

They walked down the street together, taking in the sights and smells of the market stalls with relish and interest. Edward bought her a sweet bun— the very kind that Lessie made in the castle kitchens— and she learned very quickly that when she was watched so carefully by the passing crowds, she also had a lot of influence over the traffic of the street.

Edward had known this— he told Bella so after watching her astonishment at the flood of patrons to the sweet bun seller immediately after their departure. No sooner had she bitten into the pastry, grateful for the handkerchief in her small bag to wipe her sticky fingers, had tens and hundreds flocked to the stall in a great crowd, filling the seller's coffer in ten minutes flat. Bella watched the bewildered and delighted woman cram silver and gold coins into her purse and her cashbox, until there was no more room and no more buns to sell and she became the first vendor to close up shop before two hours had passed.

Similar things happened along the way. Edward, much to Bella's chagrin, was only too happy to plunk down coin for anything she so much as looked at, much less delighted in. She protested this— protested the glass vase, the white and pink plumeria plant, the coconut bird toy for her waiting pet, and the honeyed seed stick with a clip to hang from the cage bars— but no matter how she argued, he would not relent.

"It is my joy to treat you," he whispered, bending his head so close to her ear that only she could hear. The owner of the pet supply stall was an elderly lady with tanned, wrinkled hands and an abundance of freckles on her lined and weathered face, and her eyes bugged out of her head when she saw his face so close to hers. In response to this happening, and to Bella's deep and unrelenting amusement, she slapped her walking stick on her wooden table so loudly that Edward jumped. She did not descend into outright rudeness— even for her, that would have been a great breach of etiquette— but she eyed him so ferociously with her rheumy, blue eyes that Edward took a respectful step back and offered her another coin made of solid, shining gold to placate her.

The woman harrumphed, eying the gold with disgust.

"You'd better pay it to her," she groused, patting Bella on the hand. "You do right by her, young man."

And she slipped the coin into Bella's purse, where it clinked against the others laying at the bottom.

After that, Edward was more careful.

They walked for what felt like hours, though Bella never grew tired or bored. They passed food stalls where local cooks prepared all kinds of fare. Skewered meats cooked on great, open fires and vegetables roasted on stone grills. Bella tasted most of it, though she rarely had to purchase any, and before they were halfway down the road she was stuffed to the gills and her dress was uncomfortably tight.

They sat together on a wooden bench, well off the road in the shadow of a great, clay house. They watched the great, blue birds who were disturbed by the noise and the foot traffic, and they watched the people in all their party regalia, laughing and shouting as they moved through the streets.

Far from being alone, Bella saw many other women dressed in similar clothes to the ones she wore. The colours were vibrant— hot pink, brilliant green, deep purple, and sunset orange, like flocks of great jungle birds in the middle of the city. They were all as scanty as hers— gone were the long, modest sleeves, replaced instead by bare arms and necks, low-cut fronts, and even a few slitted skirts, revealing long expanses of white legs. Girls walked with other girls, thronged together in giggling groups that blocked the road, and some of the older ones walked with beaus. Bella saw more than one young couple together, not daring to touch so much as a finger, always chaperoned by a sober-looking father or brother.

"Is that normal?" Bella asked, sipping a flute of sweet lemonade and gesturing slyly to the awkward young couple in front of them. "For them to go out like that?"

"Very usual," said Edward at once. He grinned impishly at her. "I daresay we are quite improper by normal standards."

At once, Bella felt self-conscious.

"Improper?"

"Don't fret," he said at once, and she felt his fingers tickle the back of her neck. "We're quite old enough to make up our own minds."

Bella glanced again at the couple. The girl looked no older than sixteen— she still had some childhood roundness about her— and the boy was tall and gangly, and his feet had grown too quickly for the rest of him.

"Are we old, Edward?" she asked with sudden and giddy amusement. The thought made her chuckle. "Are we spinsters?"

He snorted.

"Perhaps," he said, "although I've never heard of a male spinster. Esme and Carlisle were considered old in their time, too…"

"How old were they?"

"Twenty or so," Edward shrugged. "Well out of childhood."

"Well out," Bella said scathingly. "They barely know who they even are at that age…"

Edward shot her a peculiar look.

"That's the point, isn't it?" he asked. "It's not often that we know ourselves before we complete ourselves."

"Complete?"

Again, his look was odd.

"That's what marriage is," he said, whispering the fateful word so that the nearest travellers did not hear. "A kind of completion."

"So we're not… complete?" she queried. "Is that what the custom says?"

"I don't know if that's a custom," he replied, "but it is a belief."

"I see…"

"Marriage is a joining," he said. "A beginning and an end. The beginning of the end, and the end of the beginning."

Bella laughed outright.

"You sound like a poet," she accused.

"Poets are clever and honest," defended Edward. "I strive to be honest in all things and so long as you think me clever, I'll be a happy man."

Bella kept quiet, fighting the urge to grin.

"I do think you're clever," Bella conceded, though she did not meet his eye when he turned it on her with imperious amusement. "But if you tell anyone I said so, I'll deny it until my dying day."

He laughed at her— a loud, quaking laugh that made more than one passerby turn to look— and she buried her face in his sleeve to keep the eyes away from her.

"Come on, Bella," he chuckled, and she felt him pulling on her hand as he stood. "Let's move on. You've not even heard the music yet, and they're only just warming up."

The rest of the afternoon passed by in a blur of activity and gluttony, and by the time Edward had led her back to the main pavillion she was so warm and tired that she felt almost feverish.

They'd watched the musicians together from a coveted spot right beside the wooden dais that had been erected next to a fountain at the centre of town. They'd sampled fine island ale and warm, honeyed wine from great vats in pubs and inns. She'd tasted more Maronese delicacies— pastries, meats, stews, soups, cakes, breads, fruits, and juices— more than she could have ever eaten in a whole week. They played silly games together, varieties of which Bella knew well from carnivals and fairs in her own land. Games like ring toss, which had won her a twisted silver bangle, and a new and complicated game involving balls and labyrinths and gears. She had not won at that— not even Edward had managed to solve it— but she'd slipped the bracelet onto her wrist and there it still sat, shining and cool.

They'd run into friends on their travels— Esme and Carlisle, arm in arm at the music show, and Alice and Jasper leading a band of merry children on a frantic game of chase. The children had procured masks— great, colourful things bedecked with jewels and feathers and beads— and Edward had told her that it was only a small part of a much-loved custom.

"They take sweets," he had explained, pointing to an unassuming bowl of candied nuts at the base of one stall. "Most of the sellers put them out."

As she watched, two dusty, masked rascals had snuck from an alleyway to reach their greedy hands into the bowl, coming away with a handful apiece. The stall owner only laughed a great, noisy chuckle that made other adults turn to see, and the children had scampered like criminals on the run with wild hoots and hollers. Bella saw one boy trip over a pothole, sending half of his haul scattering to the ground for the birds, but he neither noticed nor cared as he leapt behind a crate and began to pick the dirt out of the rest of it.

Alice, Bella saw, had found a mask of pale violet silk. Jasper had none— his face was as ruddy and bare as it had been that same morning— but he only beamed at them when they crossed paths, grinning impishly as he popped a sweet into his own mouth.

"Not so surly now, is he?" Bella had commented, recalling her peculiar conversation with him on her way home from Rosalie's house. "He seems to be enjoying himself."

It was not long after that that they'd met up with Rosalie, and though they'd had to squint against the light to make her out, there was no mistaking her golden hair and the great roundness of her belly. Bella had wondered if she would come— it was a hard bargain when she was so close to her time— but Bella was at once delighted and nervous to see her friend, for they had not parted on very friendly terms. Bella wanted to speak to her— wanted to mend the fences that had been kicked down the last time they were together— but she had stopped dead in her tracks halfway down the road when she saw just what had distracted her friend from the business of the party.

Whatever they had expected to see, it was not the sight that greeted them now. Rosalie was there, there was no doubt about it, but so was another particular friend of theirs, his lips pressed to hers in a passionate kiss that earned them catcalls from a group of teenage boys, all while unsuspecting Finn chased koi fish in the duck pond at their backs.

When Edward laughed outright they pulled apart at once, Rosalie so startled that she almost fell backwards into the water and Emmett jumping up like a shot, as if he'd been caught at some illicit mischief.

Rosalie eyed Bella with a pained grimace, looking for all the world as if she'd like that duck pond to swallow her whole, but Bella, jubilant in her own triumph, was kind enough to say nothing.

The fence was mended with only a look and Bella, driven by a grateful happiness for her friend and a pompous delight at her sound assumptions, embraced her without question.

The coming of sunset did not take long after that, and before Bella had a chance to gain her bearings she was being led away again, this time to that wooden dais at the centre of town where the musicians had played. Together with Edward, who pulled her happily along, they followed the slow, trundling march of the crowd, all of whom were flocking to the stage where the King would give his gift.

They reached the stage just as the last of the sunlight disappeared over the mountains in the west and Edward, hauling himself up on the torchlit platform, was immediately greeted by a volley of cheers.

"I thank you!" he called, and Bella, watching from the shadows at his back, felt suddenly and violently shy. "I thank you all!"

The crowd roared again. Bella stared out into the innumerable faces— men, women, children, all but a few completely unfamiliar to her— and her breath caught in her throat. She scanned that crowd, looked at as many eager faces as she could see, and though they sprawled well beyond her line of sight into the darkness of the streets and alleys, she knew, without being sure how she did, that each and every ear was tuned to Edward's voice.

"It is only my second New Year as King, but I hope that it has been as jolly as the first!"

Another roar. The men nearest the stage thumped their fists against the wood in approval.

"You have all waited eagerly, I know, for what your gift will be. My father gave you many gifts, not the least of which you see before you here tonight…"

Laughter rang and heads turned to stare at Jasper, too, who flushed red and shrugged, watching his brother from the edge of the platform. Edward winked at him and he grinned, ducking his head down.

Bella saw Alice squeeze his arm.

"...and I hope that you will see such gifts here again!"

This promise, which made the elders clap, made the younger guests hoot and whistle.

"Last year, I gave you coin…"

Another rousing cry.

"And as you know, your King cannot give the same gift twice."

The cries died down.

"I give you something this year that will last a lifetime," Edward said, and as his voice went lower, so did the noise from the crowd. They listened anxiously, the King's words repeated in whispers to the furthest reaches of the group, and though Bella heard the first few whispers clearly, as it travelled it sounded like a strange, scintillating hiss.

Her heart pounded behind her ribs.

In the sudden hush that followed Bella saw Edward hesitate, and then pause. He turned his face away from the crowd, letting the torches cast his long, silhouetted shadow across the platform, and a cold breeze ran across the group, causing a great, collective shiver. Edward, though, did not show weakness, and instead reached his hand into the darkness where she stood, and she took him up at once, letting him twine his warm fingers so familiarly with hers. She shivered with cold and sudden fright, but his reassuring squeeze gave her enough nerve to be just what he needed her to be in that final, fateful moment.

"Last year I gave you gold," began Edward. The crowd, having noticed how he reached out behind, seemed to hold its collective breath. "But this year, I give you silver!"

His gentle hand pulled on hers and Bella, with a terrible slowness that made her pulse race and her eyes swim, stepped out into the blinding torchlight that swamped the stage. The faces disappeared in the glow, their shapes melting one into the other until they became one great swaying mass of darkness and colour, but the astonished silence that followed felt long enough to last forever. Her dress, almost glowing in the firelight, was a beacon in the dark,

Bella held her breath while Edward spoke again.

"I give you silver," he repeated, and she felt his fingers on the strap of her shimmering gown. "I give you the promise of our future, for this year, I will give you a Queen!"

A beat of silence, a quick, collective inhale, and finally, after what felt like an age, a roaring, bellowing noise that made her eyes brim up and her knees go weak. Edward felt it— he turned to her with a radiant joy that reflected the exultant rumpus on the ground below— and he held her close, his cheek pressed to hers as her tears fell over, falling like dewdrops to the polished wood below.

"I give them a Queen," he whispered to her, his breath hot against her cheek. "I give them a Queen, and I give you my kingdom."

A/N: I know I must sound like a broken record at this point, but once again, thank you all so much for your seemingly infinite patience. I've updated a bit on Twitter about why we're late, but for those of you who don't follow me over there this chapter gave me quite a bit of trouble. It didn't want to be written, and I had all kinds of nosy neighbours popping their heads in where they didn't belong (Carlisle really wanted to interfere, but I made him keep out of it). In the end, I think I got everyone to do what I wanted them to do without dragging on too much, and we'll pick up next chapter right where this one leaves off.

I've also forgotten to leave a note at the end of a chapter telling you that a few weeks ago, I uploaded some castle floor plans to my photo gallery for this story on my Weebly site ( .com). The plans don't include everything, but it's a basic layout of where things are and how you can get there (all major passageways, hallways, and rooms are included, though some secret/minor passages and such have not been included). If you're at all interested in the creation process, the plans were created using an iOS app called "Draft Paper", which worked quite well for what I wanted to do.

Thanks again, and happy November!