Chapter 2

            It took all of Gweneida's self control to not squirm out of the arms of her dancing partner. He was holding her closer than was proper, or necessary, and his palms were sweaty. As much as she wanted to exit the dance, the disdain she would get from Faenach, her step-mother, for being impolite would be much worse than living through the discomfort of another too eager suitor. Not that Faenach's approval mattered to her anymore. She had long ago learned trying to earn it was a fruitless quest, but the long monotonous dressing-down that she would receive for her behavior was very boring. Not just because she had heard it countless times. Despite her self-lecture it was still hard to concentrate on the intricate steps of the dance when she was trying to keep her partner at arms length.

            Just before she was about to give up and run from the prince, (whose name was Jacob or was it Henry? After meeting so many young men in one evening their names started to blur), he remembered that the ball was in his honor. As his guest she was supposed to give him respect. Faenach had always tried to teach Gweneida that honor was not a matter of respecting others, but of being polite. However Gweneida still had some belief in being kind to others, although she knew not where it had come from. She just tried to hide it when Faenach was around. Reluctantly she did not run from her dance partner, though several times she eyed the door.

 Gweneida was relieved when the dance was finished and she could make her escape. Because she turned her back so quickly she missed the look of desire in the prince's eyes. Throughout the dance, she had gone through a whole jumble of emotions, but she never showed any of them. She always kept her face expressionless and emotionless. She was known as the ice princess. And she lived up to her name.

***

            Across the room, a richly dressed man, named Alexander, eyed her with dark intent in his cool gray eyes. He was one of the most popular men at the ball, but Gweneida had not looked his way the entire evening. Many times he was tempted to go over to her. However the presence of the woman whom he danced with stopped him.

The woman was of advancing years, though magic and cosmetics hid her age well. She was just as breathtaking as she was a decade ago. They made quite a pair. Although Faenach's husband was alive, she had many lovers. He was one of the most powerful and handsome men in the world, and she one of the most powerful and beautiful women. Many thought she was the most beautiful. When she saw where her companion was looking, she stiffened. And if anyone was looking close enough, they would have noticed that she was not nearly as beautiful when her face was contorted in anger.

One of the things Faenach hated most was when her men stared at her stepdaughter with more desire than when they looked at her. Not that she could blame this one, she thought. Was he not the most eligible bachelor, in whose very presence women had been known to swoon? And had her stepdaughter, Gweneida, not been the only one to refuse his advances just as coolly as she refused the others?

            Alexander was not used to failure and did not take it well. Faenach knew she had been a second choice to the fair Gweneida. That he hoped his attachment to her would help his quest to win Gweneida. Faenach would never let that happen. He was about to walk over to her when her father walked in. Behind him trailed a young man.  Alexander glared at the new competitor, but turned back to Faenach.

***

            Trying to be as invisible as possible, Gweneida stood close to the wall in the shadows behind a heavy velvet curtain. From her hidden vantage point she could better see her surroundings and for the first time that night she could admire the elegance of the room. Never before had she been to this castle, and it was very impressive.

            The ballroom was large enough to hold over two hundred people, which it now did. The long wall that was parallel to the porch consisted almost entirely of window. Each of which was covered by a pair of velvet curtains, like those she took refuge in now. On the opposite wall was a buffet of food. That was the best quality. Next to the long table there were several smaller tables as well as chairs where tired dancers (or dancers without partners) could rest. The entire room was decorated in a deep green color, with silver accents, prominently displaying the colors of the country that hosted the gathering. However, the biggest display of riches lay in the costumes of all of the guests that were now spinning across the dance floor. Each had tried to outdo the others in their outfit's beauty and complexity.

Gweneida thought that her attempt at staying hidden was working until her father scanned the room and his gaze fell on her. That would not be a problem, but behind him there was a man who was with him. Groaning, Gweneida stepped out into the light. Graciously waiting until her father and his guest arrived. It would not do at all if he caught her hiding. Ever since last year, when she had turned 15 and she had been old enough to go to social functions, her father had been throwing every possible suitor her way, hoping that she would take a fancy to one of them and marry him. At first she had thought that having so many suitors was flattering. It was nice to be complimented, when she had not been in such a long time. But soon the novelty wore off.  She found that she could not see any of the men as her future husband. Also she did not want to leave her home. Even though she was unhappy at the castle, she still loved her kingdom, and could not yet bring herself to abandon it. At that time Faenach also intervened. For some reason she did not want Gweneida to marry. Because Gweneida did not particularly like any of her suitors, she thought that arguing with Faenach was not worth the fight.           


            At a first glance Basil's newest potential son in law was nothing special. Not tall, or short, not terribly handsome, and his hair needed a trim. However, when he came close enough for Gweneida to see his features, she saw him in a whole new light. His bright green eyes twinkled with laughter, and his mouth was turned up into a smile that looked as if it graced his face often. And although his sandy colored hair was a little long, it looked charming on him. No, he was definitely not the most handsome man Gweneida had ever seen, but the first sight of him jolted her, like no other man had.


            As Brendan gazed down at the beauty he had been sent to court he was amazed. From what he had hear of Gweneida she was a beautiful girl, but very aloof. She was indeed a very beautiful girl; her long hair was slightly curly and as black as coal, and she had the fairest skin he had ever seen. However, what caught his attention about her the most were her eyes. They were a beautiful amethyst, and they were not expressionless at all, as he had been told, but full of life. He could think of no reason why she was called the ice princess. Graciously he bowed and introduced himself.


            "It is an honor to finally meet you, my lady. Your father has told me of your immense beauty, but no words could do it justice. My name is Sir Brendan." He then bent down and lightly kissed her offered hand. She nodded dumbly. Still staring. For a moment no one spoke.

Basil was eager to have the action start. "Brendan, I hear you are a good dancer, why don't you and Gweneida dance."

For some reason that had a vast impact on Gweneida. She blinked rapidly several times and stood up straighter, as if a pole was lodged up her back.

"Of coarse. My lady?" Brendan held out his hand. Stiffly Gweneida nodded and put her hand on his.


           What had come over her? Gweneida questioned herself. No one was supposed to have that effect on her. She had been goggling at him like some lovesick ninny. It was a good thing her father had brought her back to earth, or she might have done something that later she would regret.


            She had to admit, as she and Brendan twirled across the floor, that he was a good dancer, and after having to dance with some clumsy men that night, it was a pleasure to dance with someone who knew what he was doing. Against her will, her impression of him rose a notch. And by the end of the dance he had given her no reason to lower it again.


            Brendan then escorted Gweneida over to the chairs in the corner of the elegant ballroom.


            "You are a good dancer as well my lady." Brendan said in appreciation.

"Thank you." Gweneida answered shortly.

"I can tell that you were born with grace, that is lucky for you. I had the misfortune of being born clumsy. When I first started dancing lessons my dance teacher got her feet trampled black and blue. I went trough three more teachers after her until I got it right. None of them stayed more than a week. Their feet couldn't stand it any longer."

Gweneida could not help give a small smile. It was rare that a man could laugh at himself with such good humor. It was rarer still that that wit could humor her also.

Encouraged Brendan continued. "And the only reason the last one stayed was because my father raised the price of the instructor's pay from two gold coins to five. She almost left even for that. Luckily by that time I had enough skill to step on her feet five times a day instead of fifteen. Still it was a long time until I was able to dance with any grace." He sighed in mock regret.

This time Gweneida chuckled. It felt odd to chuckle.

            Gweneida was about to reply when she saw her step- mother coming. All color drained from her skin, and she looked more translucent than a ghost. Intrigued Brendan looked up to see what had caused such an effect on Gweneida.

 Almost immediately an elegant woman came into view.  She extended her hand to Brendan. He raised an eyebrow, but accepted her hand and kissed the air right above it, so as not to be rude, but something about this woman put him on edge and he was not sure if he wanted to touch her right away. Seeming to not notice his hesitance, she introduced herself. 

"I am Queen Faenach of the kingdom Namoriet, but you should know who I am, considering you are so well acquainted with my step daughter." She smiled, but it held no warmth like a smile should.

            Abruptly realization hit Brendan. He paid well to be kept well informed. And, when her husband suggested he court Gweneida, one of his many informants, had told him about the infamous Faenach. Little was known about her life before becoming queen of Namoriet except that it was expected that she was of low birth, though there was not evidence to prove it. As he could see, her notorious beauty was true, as was her sternness concerning her stepdaughter. Where as Gweneida's father stayed away from his daughter and took every opportunity he could to marry her off, Faenach was overbearing and went out of her way to make Gweneida miserable.  Also she made it clear to her suitors that her stepdaughter was not to be married. And because she had a more intimidating personality then her soft-spoken husband, her word was law. Gweneida was still unwed.

            However Brendan could not help thinking it odd that she did not want her stepdaughter married off if she disliked her so. One thing was for sure though; Faenach was a formidable barrier for him to overcome if he wished to continue courting Gweneida.

            Before he could do anything to curb the queen's obvious dislike of him however she excused herself and her stepdaughter.

            "I am sure I will be better acquainted with you in the future, sir. But please excuse myself and my daughter, for we must be going now."

            Before he could say another word, the queen whisked herself and Gweneida out the door, with an out of breath king behind her.