XVIII
GRACE
The sharp knock was hard to sleep through. It continued pounding in Grace's ears as she opened her eyes, so much so that she wondered whether the sound had really stopped.
Her eyes opened to the bleary image of her room; bare apart from the sheets of paper and ink spread across the floor.
As her ears stopped ringing and her mind shifted into focus, she wondered if she'd imagined the sound. It wouldn't be the first time her dreams had played tricks on her. Her hands fisted the soft cotton sheets to test their corporeality, they were real - the cruellest dream yet.
She jumped as another persistent knock echoed against her eardrums. The startle settling into an irritable bubble. Grace had never been a morning person.
"Go away," She groaned, turning over and tangling herself in the sheets. It was hardly sunrise yet; Surely Casys had not come to fetch her for her shift in the kitchens?
"It's me," A soft voice wafted through the doorway, "May I enter?"
"No," Grace covered her face with the pillow.
There was silence then; a blissful peace of a moment until it was interrupted with the slight scuffle of the door handle and Lucy announcing herself, "I'm coming in."
Grace shut her eyes tightly beneath the pillow, hoping that if she didn't move, Lucy would assume that she'd have suffocated. She needn't have bothered, for the youngest Queen had somehow silently crossed the room and pried the pillow from her hands. Grace immediately rolled over and buried herself in another one.
"I'd have hoped for a warmer welcome than that," Lucy said, eyes narrowed in mock disappointment.
"The sun isn't even up fully and nor shall I be," Grace said, briefly pausing in thought to look the Queen over with crusted eyes, "How are you dressed already?"
"It's a special occasion," Lucy grunted delicately as she pulled the blankets from atop Grace's body.
Grace hunched into a foetal position, shivering as the cold morning air stinged against her nearly bare skin.
Lucy grimaced, "Sorry, I forgot how cold it was."
Once again, Grace's ear was met with the soft slide of the door opening. She looked up warily at the next visitor, only to lock eyes on the graceful form of Queen Susan, sliding through the thin opening. She was barely dressed, a thick embroidered robe draped over her shoulders.
The older Queen stopped, hand frozen on the handle as the door clicked to a close and she assessed the situation with observant blue eyes.
"Lucy," Queen Susan admonished, crossing the marble gracefully, "This is not how you wake a guest."
Lucy had frozen with her hands still gripping the thick doona. Her eyes were wide, like she had been caught doing something she was not supposed to.
Grace eyed the blanket longingly as she attempted to cover herself, only managing a nod and a small greeting. She wasn't going to attempt a curtsy in a see-through shift, she'd already been through enough this morning.
Lucy caught on, lifting the doona and replacing it over her shivering body.
"I apologise, Grace," Queen Susan sighed, "I had asked my sister to wake you, but I hadn't realised she would take her job so seriously."
"It's fine," Grace said, voice still cracked with sleep, "I wasn't exactly obliging."
The elder Queen smiled warmly, "No one would expect you to be at this hour."
Queen Susan's eyes lingered on her hunched form; Grace was still against the mattress and clearly shivering. The eldest Queen continued to scan the room, her hands pulling the thin dressing gown further over her skin until her dark eyes finally zeroed in on the fireplace.
"You don't have a fire?" Queen Susan asked, eyes flickering warily to the fireplace.
"Haven't needed it, your majesty," Grace's teeth chattered.
The eldest Queen fixed her with a pointed look, "Really?" She asked, then relented, depositing herself at the edge of the bed to cover Grace in the blanket again, "I suppose it has been unseasonably warm. I'll ensure a man is sent to your rooms to light the fire each night."
"Thank you," Grace said, tugging the blanket over herself.
Lucy eyed her friend dryly and commented, "Don't thank her yet," as Queen Susan called in the direction of the doorway.
The double doors flew inwards and a troupe of Narnians entered with much more gusto than was necessary for the hour. Their arms were overflowing with various tools, ribbons and materials which they dutifully carried, lining themselves across the wall.
Trailing behind the troupe, was a flowing image of a woman. Her skin was near translucent with a slight bluish tinge and was covered in clear risen bumps which caught the light as she passed. They were like raindrops on a windowpane, frozen in time. Upon her head, sat waves of a greenish blue colour that Grace had never seen before, they tumbled and flowed down her back, trailing off in wisps like steam.
Queen Susan smiled knowingly at the expression on Grace's face, "This is Alsira, Naiad of the sweet pond and the Cair's tailor."
The Naiad nodded her head respectfully.
Grace responded in kind, mentally noting that she was still staring.
Lucy grinned, "She's here to take your measurements."
This pulled Grace from her stupor, "Pardon?"
"Your clothes, she's here to take your measurements for them," Lucy explained.
"We understand that it is quite early," Queen Susan supposed, situating herself comfortably on the edge of the bed, "However, with the ball in two days there was hardly any time left."
"The ball?" Grace was really not good with mornings.
Lucy looked at her expectantly, "You are performing with the Orchestra… right?"
"Margrove and I have compromised on a dance," Grace explained, sitting up and rubbing her face.
"Well, it is a ball; you would be expected to dance," Lucy mused cheekily.
Grace rolled her eyes, "What I mean is; I've been asked to lead one of the dances alongside the dancing troupe."
Lucy's brows raised in interest, "Oh? Which one?"
"The Long Trot," Queen Susan answered, smoothing the sleeves of her robe.
Lucy's eyes widened, "I didn't know we commissioned the Long Trot?" she whispered to her sister.
"Margrove raised it a few days ago. I didn't see why not, as he was adamant the troupe would be ready in time," Queen Susan explained, her eyes curious when they returned to Grace, "He said you have provided new music for the ball?"
"Just one song," Grace amended, "Margrove thought it would be a good fit for the dance."
Lucys eyes blazed in wonder, "It must have a fast beat, then."
"It starts off slow but it gets a little faster as it goes," Grace shrugged.
"Sounds like the perfect fit," Queen Susan mused. A beat passed, where she glanced briefly to the troupe of Narnians along the wall, "Well, if you are only performing the one song, there is no reason you should not attend the rest of the ball formally."
Grace began to protest, "I'm not sure about-"
Queen Susan silenced her, "I will not hear any complaints, protests or pleading."
"I don't mean to be disrespectful, your majesty, however, I'm quite certain that King Edmund wouldn't approve."
"Let me deal with my brother," The Eldest Queen sniffed, sharing a knowing glance with Lucy, "You are a ward of the Crown. It would not look good if you were not to attend."
Grace thought back to Margrove's first greeting a few weeks ago and grimaced, "Are there rumours?"
Queen Susan shook her head and rose from the bed regally, "If there is, they will be stamped out by your very presence."
From the other edge of the bed, Lucy grinned animalistically, "At the very least, they will when we're done with you."
The Elder Queen swept across the room, ordering the line about in this way and that as Lucy gently pried Grace from the comforting warmth of blankets.
Grace stifled her groans; the movement caused her muscles to ache intensely. The past three days had been full of constant movement and she'd hardly had a chance to breathe between dancing, singing and teaching.
When Grace had agreed to learn the Long Trot, she had thought that it would be simple. She'd been in mandatory dance lessons since she was young and was well adept at memorizing combinations. What she hadn't been prepared for, was the fast-paced erratic movements the dance demanded. When Margrove had said the Long Trot was difficult, he wasn't kidding.
When she couldn't dance any longer, Grace sat with Lilis – an enthusiastic Dryad with the fickle attitude of a human. They got along swimmingly, which greatly helped with her task of teaching the Dryad.
She was fascinated by Lilis' voice which came out in beautiful tones accompanied by a slight whistly edge. It was as if there were holes in her lungs that spread to her bark-like skin and constantly breathed, they would both exude the soft notes and take in extra air so that the Dryad could sing for longer.
Lucy was pulling her atop a pedestal. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Grace wondered when such a thing had gotten there.
The Naiad, Alsira, began picking up pieces of fabric and laying them across Grace's shoulder. Her eyes sparkling like sunlight on the sea as she assessed each one. "Green is most definitely her colour," She finally noted, lifting the leafy fabric and wrapping it around her waist expertly.
Grace eyed the fabric; it was one of the few she'd chosen with Lucy at the market. As the Dryad shifted it this way and that, the droplets on her hands seeped into the material and left small round stains. No matter how many droplets were lost on the fabric, however, it seemed that the Naiad was never in short supply for her skin simply replaced it.
For the next hour, Grace was stock still as the Naiad poked and prodded the material into place with both of the Queens expert direction.
"It will need less skirt if she is not to trip over it during the Long Trot," Queen Susan mused from her seat near the wall.
"The sleeves will also have to be tightened," Lucy noted, dutifully holding Grace's arm aloft.
The Elder Queen agreed, wincing delicately as one of the Dryads tugged her hair into style, "Three quarter fitted sleeves will do nicely, Alsira."
"Yes, Ma'am," The Naiad assented, hurriedly pinning before Grace's arm dropped.
Lucy released the arm, skipping towards a faun in line with an armful of ribbons, "I'm thinking silver trim."
Grace eyed the ribbons warily, "Please, nothing too fancy."
"Don't you worry Miss Grace," Alsira muttered through the pins in her mouth, "The dress will be ready in time."
"That's not what I'm concerned about," Grace whispered.
Queen Susan settled comfortably in the chair, hair now twisted into an elaborate braid, "Do not worry about the cost. I will cover it. Think of your compliance as a gift to me for my birthday."
Grace's brows raised, "You're going to cover my dress for your birthday ball?"
"Why shouldn't I? Every girl ought to have at least one pretty dress. I would give you an old one of mine or Lucy's but you seem to fall between us in size."
"Still," Grace persisted, "I'm not sure if I would feel right with accepting such a gift."
"Would it help if we were to give it to you as a thank you for your music?" Lucy asked, a glittering silver ribbon in her hands, "It has been far too long since The Long Trot was last performed, and your music is a little easier for the musicians."
She crossed the room to Grace who held still as the Queen and The Naiad measured the ribbon across the dresses square neckline, "You've given us a gift, let us return the favour."
Grace had known the feeling of charity from birth and felt something squirm inside at the thought of accepting such a gift, "I don't know."
She felt the weight of Queen Susan's eyes upon her, the Eldest Queens uncanny knowing gaze not lifting as they offered an ultimatum, "Then you must accept it as payment for your future endeavours. I would expect more music to come from the Orchestra now that you've shown to be quite the accomplice to Margrove."
This, Grace could agree with.
"Good," Queen Susan's eyes warmed to a simmer, "Then the matter is settled."
"Don't make yourself too uneasy about it," Lucy whispered conspiratorially, "It isn't Susan's birthday until after Christmas in any case."
Queen Susan rolled her eyes good naturedly as a Dryad carefully helped her into a gown, "That's enough, Lu. Don't go giving away all of my secrets."
Lucy giggled.
At last, Alsira stepped back to admire her handiwork, "Is there anything else you would like made, Miss Grace? I have taken your measurements for future dresses and her majesty, Queen Lucy, has requested I prepare another chemise."
Grace stopped in thought, arms awkwardly spread in the air less she prick herself on the pinned sleeves. She didn't know what to ask for, other than new dresses and underclothes, what else did people wear in this time?
Then an idea came to her in a moment of mischievous madness, and if she was honest, Grace knew better than to voice it. That didn't stop her, "I would like a cloak."