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The Eighth Sin
Here's a little Christmas treat with a short winter story about Arvyn and Leonie's childhood!
Enjoy and Merry Christmas!
When the Snow Fell
The fire crackled warmly in the old hearth, the orange flames licking at the fresh firewood hungrily. A faint whistle could be heard through the chimney above as the wind raged on outside.
Shadows danced over the dark wood paneled walls as the portraits of old kings and queens staring absently ahead. A slight scent of smoke filled the room along with the lit beeswax candles.
The queen hummed gently from her red velvet armchair by the fire as she pulled her needle through her embroidery. The dark green thread was soft between her fingers, the fabric pulled taut by the wooden sewing hoop. She glanced over towards the matching chair beside hers, the fire embracing them both warmly.
King Oleksander’s wheaten eyebrows were deeply knitted as his quick eyes followed the words in front of him, his lips twitching as he tried to decipher the meaning behind the document. He lent his head against his knuckles, his rings glinting in the fire’s orange glow. Their family’s annual visit to the northern hunting lodge was the only time he seemed to remove his crown, but the burden still clung to him like a shadow as he insisted on scouring over document after document.
Between their seats lay their youngest son, Arvyn. He lay on his stomach, his booted feet kicking subconsciously in the air as his chin rested on one hand. His golden eyes travelled over the page of the well-worn book, his fingers flickering to the next page eagerly. Sat at the table behind him were his two older brothers, Oleksander and Cain, who were locked in a life or death battle with their new toy armies gifted to them by their uncle before he went back out to the border.
Leonie sighed as she looked beyond the darkness laying claim to the world outside. She was perched on the thick red velvet cushions of the bay window, her forehead leaning against the icy glass.
“Come away from the window, Your Highness,” her nanny chided gently as she put her hands on the girl’s small shoulders. “You will catch a chill.”
“Tilda said that there’s a festival in the village tomorrow,” the six year old said excitedly. “She said there’s lots of food and dancing and shiny things. Can we go, Nanny? Please?”
The girl’s eyes gleamed as she held out her arms expectantly. The nanny sighed as she picked the princess up, holding her tightly.
“Tilda shouldn’t be putting such thoughts in your head, Your Highness.”
The princess’s face fell as she squeezed the old woman’s neck tightly.
“Why not?”
The three brothers also turned their gaze to the nanny.
The old woman sighed, pushed away from the princess slightly so that she could look in her eyes.
“It is a good two hour walk to the village, each way. It’s too far for you, especially when night descends so quickly at this time of year.”
Cain’s brow furrowed as he jumped up. “Why would we walk? We have horses.”
“The snow is too deep,” the king interrupted bluntly, his gaze never drifting from the parchment in his hand. “They won’t make it down the mountain safely.”
Leonie yawned, revealing a neat row of small teeth. She laid her head against her nanny’s shoulder gently as her eyelids began to droop. “But I wanted to see the dancing.”
“Perhaps when you’re older, sweetheart,” the queen smiled softly as she pushed herself from the warm embrace of her seat. “We have a spring festival in the capital.”
The princess beamed a smile as her mother came closer, planting a kiss on her forehead.
“Now, to bed with you, little maiden.
“Good night, Mama,” the little princess said groggily, reaching her arms out to hug her mother tightly. She puckered her lips and landed a soggy kiss on the queen’s cheek before nuzzling back into the embrace of her nanny. She yawned again and her eyes began to close. “Good night Papa, good night Olek, good night Cay, good night Vinnie.”
“Good night, Leonie!”
The princes waved as their little sister was carried from the room, consciousness fading quickly in the warm arms of her nanny.
“I wish that we could go to the festival,” Arvyn sighed when they were gone, turning to another page of his book. “There might be cool things to buy there.”
“Well, if we can’t go to the festival then why don’t we make one ourselves?”
Cain and Arvyn looked at their older brother as he jumped to his feet, stretching his gangly arms high into the air.
“I mean, it can’t be that hard, right?”
The king and queen gave each other a knowing look as they chuckled, their attention turning back to their respective tasks.
“Right, so it’s settled. I will organise the servants with the butler, and you two go set up somewhere for us to hold the festival.”
“Should we do it here?”
Oleksander’s forehead creased as he looked at the room around them. “It’s too small in here. And the servants aren’t supposed to come in here when we’re at the lodge, unless they’re cleaning.”
“Oh,” Cain said dejectedly, his golden gaze falling to the floor.
“Well, what about the dining hall? Servants can go in there and there’s more room.”
“Festivals,” the queen chimed softly, tugging her thin yellow thread through her fabric, “are most often held outside so that everyone may join.”
The boys pondered for a moment.
“Let’s do it in the stables then,” Arvyn suggested. “It’s outside but sheltered in case it snows more, and there’s lots of space.”
“Yes but it smells of the horses,” replied Cain as he scrunched his nose.
“I think the stables is a good idea,” Oleksander replied slowly. “So you two can ask the stablehands to help decorate in the morning whilst I get some servants to make things for it. We’ll meet in the dining room before breakfast.”
The three princes grinned mischievously.
Arvyn’s brow furrowed as he looked at his older brother. “But what about Leonie? She hates being left out, and she’ll definitely notice if we’re all suddenly busy.”
“She’s bound to notice,” Cain agreed, folding his arms.
Oleksander scratched his head, his golden forehead creasing as he pondered.
“Oh, leave your sister to me, boys,” the queen smiled as she set down her sewing gently. “You just focus on getting everything set up.”
“What are you going to do to her?” Cain asked nervously.
She laughed, her bright blue eyes twinkling in the firelight. “I’m sure I can keep her busy.”
The princes shuddered.
* * * * *
The next morning, the three princes woke up long before their breakfasts were ready. In truth, Oleksander woke up first and made sure that his two brothers were ready to start the day after much encouragement.
The eldest prince waited impatiently in the small dining room, his booted foot tapping rhythmically on the polished wooden floor. His arms were crossed over his chest, just loose enough that his starched white shirt and red and gold brocade doublet didn’t wrinkle.
He turned as the door opened and his two brothers were ushered in by their personal guards.
Sir Kellan, Cain’s personal guard, was a little worse for wear having struggled to rouse his young prince. While making his charge dress quickly and warmly, the seasoned knight had received a slap to the face. Although Cain had still been half asleep, he was not a weak child and so a slight mark still lingered. He smiled sheepishly as he bowed to the teenage prince and went to stand beside the wall.
Sir Garrick nudged Arvyn’s shoulders, pushing him into the room tiredly. His iron armour was neatly polished, his boots shining in the light of the freshly lit fireplace. He bowed to Oleksander and went to stand beside his colleague quietly.
“We need to make this evening perfect for our sister,” Oleksander said firmly to his half-asleep brothers. “Do you remember the plan?”
“We need to decorate the stable,” Cain yawned.
Arvyn yawned widely beside him, his hand belatedly covering his mouth when he felt his oldest brother’s gaze. His white shirt was already untucked, his golden mop of hair still tangled on his head.
Cain groaned beside him, rubbing his eyes groggily. Neither of the younger princes went to move.
The eldest sighed as he pressed his pointy finger and thumb firmly against his furrowed forehead. “We’ll meet at the stables at four o’clock. Make sure you make everything perfect.”
He watched as the two personal guards ushered their charges from the room before heading out to find the head butler.
The prince wandered the hallways looking for the butler and began to grow disgruntled when he couldn’t find him in any of the rooms. Just then, he saw one of the maids, tying her apron strings around her waist, come around the corridor towards him.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” she said, dipping into a quick curtsy as she kept out of his way.
“Do you know where the butler is?”
“He will be in the kitchens, Your Highness, having his breakfast before the household wakes up.”
Oleksander thanked her and headed quickly down the corridor.
Warmth and the smell of fresh bread bombarded the prince as he opened the door to the kitchen. He breathed in deeply, his mouth starting to water and his belly rumbling.
The kitchen was buzzing with life as the kitchen maids and head cook systematically began their work for the day. The baker was already on his fourth batch of bread, whilst the youngest servant of the lodge, only six years old, started to turn the meat on the spit over the large fireplace.
The butler of the lodge sat out of the way in the kitchen having his simple breakfast of freshly baked bread, cheese and slices of cold beef from the royal family’s dinner last night. A handful of other servants sat at the table with him, speaking amongst themselves as the butler scribbled on some parchment beside him with a crude pencil.
Upon seeing the prince, the butler shot to his feet, hastily wiping the crumbs from his thin silver beard.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” he said hastily, getting the attention of the seated servants and gesturing for them to pay their respects.
The prince smiled, dismissing them absently with his hand. “I’m sorry to bother you whilst you’re eating.”
“It’s no trouble, Your Highness. What can I do for you?”
“We’re holding a surprise festival for Leonie at the stables this afternoon, and I want to find some servants that can help.”
“Of course, Your Highness. I will send some to set up the area for you.”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” the prince said curtly. “Cain and Arvyn are setting up the stables. What I need is people who can be the vendors from the market, and musicians.”
The butler nodded slowly. His top lip twisted under his beard as he contemplated.
“If I may, Your Highness,” one of the nearby servants said quietly. “I know that Cedric makes leather pouches in his spare time. It was his father’s trade.”
“And Edith and I are quite skilled at making doll clothes; we have fixed Her Highness’s toys enough times,” one of the maids beside him said excitedly.
“This is all well and good,” the butler said firmly, “but everyone you have mentioned is on duty today.”
“Oh, that’s not a problem,” Head Maid Agnes said loudly as appeared at the end of the table. “I have just been informed by Her Majesty that everyone will have the late afternoon off, provided their duties are completed beforehand.”
The gathered servants murmured excitedly. The kitchen staff began to take note of the conversation as the whispers rippled through them.
“Back to work, you lot,” the head cook shouted. “The day’s food won’t cook itself!”
The prince tilted his head as he watched the cook roll his sleeves up and cover his hands in flour before starting to knead the last batch of bread dough.
Oleksander headed towards the tall cook as the head butler and head mid discussed between them which servants had hidden talents, and how to reorganise the work day to allow for the surprise afternoon off.
“Could the kitchen staff make some sweet treats?” The prince asked the head cook, raising his voice to be heard over the noise of the busy kitchen.
The cook looked at the prince and wiped a floury wrist over his brow. “If we have the ingredients and time then we will, Your Highness.”
“I can help if you don’t have enough hands?”
The prince removed his doublet slowly, folding it neatly as his golden eyes looked for a place to hang it out of the way. A scullery maid took it from him, her ginger head bowed nervously. He then rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt in the same fashion as he had watched the head chef, although his was much more messy than the seasoned baker.
The cook laughed, the booming sound bouncing over his warm domain. “It’s unfitting to make a prince dirty his hands in a kitchen, but who am I to say no. Cecily! Fetch a fresh apron for His Highness and get started on some spice cakes and marchpane!”
The ginger-haired scullery maid appeared by his side, offering a freshly starched canvas apron to the prince and beckoning him to follow her to the pantry.
* * * * *
The two princes shivered as they pulled their fur-lined cloaks tightly around them, their teeth chattering. Their breath turned into mist as they exhaled, the cold seeping into their exposed noses as they made their way to the stables.
The snow underfoot was smooth. Only a few patches had been disturbed by small birds venturing out in the early hours of the morning. The sky was almost as white as the ground, and the garden around them was eerily quiet and the winter cold blanketed the world.
“Aren’t you glad that I made you wear three pairs of hose and two pairs of trousers, Your Highness,” Kellan laughed, rubbing his gloved hands together quickly.
Cain grumbled, his shoulders hunched as he stormed angrily through the untouched snow.
The snow-covered stable block loomed ahead in the distance, a handful of footprints and hoof prints already decorating the path from the grey stone building. The sound of horses whinnying danced in the air as the princes and their knights drew closer to the open archway.
The snow inside was a patchwork of boot and hoof prints as the grooms continued about their daily business of exercising the horses and cleaning the stables.
“Good morning, Your Highnesses,” one of the stablehands said warmly as they came into the courtyard. His nose and cheeks were red as a warm smile decorated his face. He was grey woolen gloves on his hands as he clutched onto the handle of a wide shovel. “If you’ve come for a ride, I’m afraid it’s not quite safe enough today, young princes.”
Cain waved his hand angrily as he made his way towards the closed barn door. “We’re here for the festival.”
The stablehand’s brunette brow furrowed as he glanced over to the knights.
“Their Highnesses are holding a winter festival for the princess when the sun goes down,” Kellan explained slowly. “They want to use the stables to host it.”
“Ah, I see,” the old groom chuckled, scratching his wiry beard. “Old Man Gilbert should be inside. You’d be best checking with him first, Your Highnesses.”
Cain grunted as he waited for Kellan to slide open the heavy wooden door.
A wall of warmth rushed out to greet them and the two boys raced in quickly, rubbing their hands together as they stomped the snow from their boots.
The inside of the stable block was a large square set out around the courtyard. Each side of the building had seven stables, each one spacious for the royal family’s expensive horses. But, only a handful of these stalls were currently occupied, with many of the resident horses having been turned out to pasture for the day.
Garrick waved over to the old head stablehand, perched on a pile of clean straw at the far end of the barn.
The man, dressed in a simple black jerkin with a small blazing sun embroidered on his left breast, hopped down and strode over much faster than the two princes expected of an almost sixty year old. Gilbert whistled as his stocky legs moved spryly towards them down the middle of the barn. Some of the horses stuck their heads out of their stalls as he went past and received quick strokes on their noses.
“What can I do for the young princes this morning?”
“We’re holding a festival here for Leonie tonight,” Arvyn said excitedly. “We need to decorate it for her.”
“Oh, are you now, Your Highness,” the old man laughed. “Well, I guess we have our work cut out for us. Most of the lodge’s horses are out to pasture for the winter, but your fine city horses need to stay inside in this weather. We can restable them so that we can use this half of the barn. The stalls can have our sellers, but we’ll need tables.
“What about the hay bales? Could we use those and cover them with sheets?”
“Aye, that’d work, Your Highness; if you get sweet talk the maids!” Gilbert chuckled, digging his thumbs into his trouser pockets.
“Leave that to me,” Kellan laughed, winking at the old man.
“We can set up a little stage for some musicians over there,” Garrick said, pointing to the store of loose straw that Gilbert was sitting on a moment ago. “Every festival needs music and dancing.”
“Let’s go!”
Arvyn seemed to spring into action, reaching to move one of the saddles leaning against an empty stable.
After a while, Arvyn began to grow bored of moving things around the stables, and so he went outside to help shovel the snow from the courtyard. It was tough work, but made a little easier when a couple of maids brought warmed perry from the kitchen.
“You should be working,” Cain grumbled as he joined his little brother outside. “We don’t have time for you to play around!”
“Relax, Cay. We’ve been working hard and have earned a few minutes break.”
The older boy planted his hands on his hips as he scowled at his younger brother. “Just get on with your job, Arvyn. We don’t want to disappoint Leonie.”
The second prince turned to go back inside, ignoring Arvyn making faces at him. The younger prince scooped up a snowball from the ground and patted it down carefully before lobbing it at his brother.
Cain froze as the snow landed on the back of his golden head. His body shivered as it dripped down his neck, past the protection of the fur of his cloak. He turned to his brother, his golden eyes furious as she clenched his fists.
But Arvyn simply threw another snowball and ran for cover behind one of the grooms.
Cain found himself laughing and made his own snowball, patting it firmly as he eyed up his energetic target. He raised his arm and aimed at his brother. His eyes closed as he tossed it forward with all his might.
Arvyn laughed as he dodged out of the way and the snowball landed with a thud against the grey stone wall beside him.
Unfortunately, a stablehand rounded the corner with a chestnut mare at that exact moment. Her nostrils were flaring as she danced around skittishly at the white snow, the white of her dark eyes visible. As the snow landed beside her head she snorted and jumped onto her hind legs. The stablehand tried to keep hold of her rope, but his hands were frozen beneath the woolen gloves and the horse managed to easily rip free from his grip. She bolted past him, heading towards the open barn door.
The youngest prince turned as she raced past him, catching his shoulder as he dodged out the way.
The mare snorted as her iron horseshoes slid over the freshly cleared courtyard, her gangly legs desperately trying to reach the safety of her stable and herd. A loud crash rang through the snowy world as she entered the barn, knocking over a straw table that hadn’t been there before. Her legs tangled in the bunting made from scraps of clean handkerchiefs.
The stablehands lept into action as they tried to catch the disorientated mare, her legs kicking out at the strange rope around her legs. Gilbert managed to reach for her headcollar as another groom grabbed her rope tightly.
“Easy, girl, easy,” Gilbert cooed softly.
The head stablehand held her head firmly as he stroked her neck gently. One of the other grooms started to untangle her legs, whilst a third ran to find a knife. The others all gloomily began to retrieve the bales that the mare had barrelled through.
Cain ran into the barn, his face crestfallen as he surveyed the damage to his impromptu festival hall. He turned to Arvyn, any trace of amusement banished from his golden glare. “Look what you did”
“Me? But you threw the snowball!”
“I wouldn’t have if you didn’t start the stupid game. Now all of our work is ruined and Leonie is going to cry!”
Arvyn gritted his teeth as tears welled up in his eyes angrily. His fists tightened at his side as he shouted at his brother. “That’s not fair! I was just trying to have some fun! You’re the one who missed and scared the horse!
The youngest prince turned on his heel and ran from the courtyard, his eyes stinging as the tears fell. He charged into the snowy woods, the weight of the world on his shoulders as he dipped in between the trees.
He breathed in deeply as he finally stopped after a long while. The crisp winter air filled his lungs painfully as he bent over to catch his breath. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve before crouching on the floor. As the cold finally began to seep into his shaking body, he wrapped his arms tightly around his chest.
He was deep in the woods, in an area he hadn’t explored with his father or brothers yet. The snow was undisturbed here, the soft white blanket covering the ground. The tall oak trees were unfamiliar, but even without their leaves he couldn’t see the end of the forest.
Before him grew a tall tree stretching towards the grey sky above. The bottom branches were wide whilst they thinned towards the top of the straight spire. Small thin dark green spikes grew on the branches, making the already large tree seem even bigger. Tied to these spiked branches were dozens of small ribbons. Some were red, some were green and some were yellow. Many had faded and grown stiff with dirt, but a handful seemed to be brand new. Each one was tied in a neat little bow, with no two ribbons on the same branch.
“What is this?” Arvyn whispered as his hand reached out to touch the tree.
“It’s a fir tree, Your Highness,” a familiar voice said loudly behind him.
Garrick stopped just behind him, draping the prince’s cloak gently around the boy’s shivering shoulders. His warm breath fogged in front of him as he helped the boy to his feet before he rubbed his leather-clad gloves quickly together.
“They’re fairly common in the north, but I think it’s too warm in the capital for them.”
“I know that, Garrick; I’m not stupid.” the boy said impatiently as he stomped his foot. “I mean, why is it covered in ribbons?”
“Ah,” Garrick chuckled, standing beside his charge. “There’s a local superstition, Your Highness; if you make a wish on an ancient evergreen on the shortest day of the year, then it is sure to come true. These ribbons,” he said, gesturing to the tree, “are all wishes.”
“What do the colours mean?”
“Hmm, I’m not sure; it may just be the ribbons they had on hand. My town did something similar but we didn’t use ribbons. We would make wreaths from evergreen branches and hang them on our doors to welcome in good luck for the coming year.”
“I see,” the little prince pondered.
The guard hid his laugh with a cough before placing his hands on the boy’s shoulders.
“Come, Your Highness; it’ll be dark soon and we need to finish setting up for the festivities.”
“Can we take it with us?”
Garrick furrowed his brow. “To what end, Your Highness?”
“Well,” the prince mumbled slowly, his feet shuffling in the snow, “I just think that Leonie would think it’s pretty. And Mother likes myths and old stories.”
The knight smiled broadly at the boy.
“Alright, Your Highness. Stay here whilst I will fetch the woodcutter for you.”
“Wait, you need to cut it?”
The knight knelt in the snow before the prince. He pushed a stray stand of the young boy’s hair from his face as he smiled softly. “Nothing lasts forever, Your Highness. But, I’ll tell you a secret.”
The knight pointed over to the ground near the fir tree. Bursting from the snow was a small spiky twig sticking out of the ground. As he moved closer, Arvyn could see the same tiny needle-like leaves at the wishing tree.
“Sometimes, things need to leave in order for new ones to grow.”
The boy turned to look at Garrick, his big golden eyes sparkling. “Will it grow as big as the wishing tree?”
“Maybe bigger,” Garrick nodded, offering the boy his hand. “Now, sit on this log and wait for me whilst I find Harlow to chop it down.”
By the time that the woodsman and his assistant had been able to fell the giant tree, night had begun to descend on the mountain estate. Garrick and Arvyn helped them to tie heavy ropes around the trunk and hook them onto the giant harness of their stocky draft horse. The animal seemed perfectly at ease in the snowy forest. His head drooped as he dozed whilst they attached him to his fresh load.
“Alright then; let’s get moving,” the woodsman said softly as he tapped the horse on his rump.
His assistant clicked his tongue and pulled the reins of the horse’s bridle. With a snort, the animal strained to move forward, his feet lifting off the snowy ground slowly. Arvyn stepped backwards into Garrick as he eyes up the giant black hooves that must have been the size of his head.
It was slow going as they led the horse back towards the stable. The woodman kept the animal’s pace steady, whilst the assistant and Garrick cleared any branches blocking the strong creature’s path.
They were greeted by the orange glow of a bonfire as they neared the stable block, set up just outside the complex. Dozens of lanterns illuminated the grey walls of the stables, small clusters of holly leaves were tied with green, red and gold ribbons to the top of them.
One of the older kitchen servants was roasting marshmallows on sticks over it before handing them to eager customers, whilst the young spit boy took a copper coin as payment from them. Not far from them the woodsman’s wife and daughter sold freshly roasted chestnuts and meat skewers.
“Arvyn! Where’ve you been!”
The youngest prince looked down at his feet as Cain and Kellan came racing out of the courtyard. Arvyn clasped his hands behind his back sheepishly as he avoided Cain’s golden glare.
“Sorry, I needed a walk,” he mumbled.
“Wow, look at that tree!”
He turned to see Oleksander striding towards the draft horse, now happily enjoying his bag of oats from the assistant as Garrick and the woodsman removed the tree from his harness.
“Garrick says it’s a wishing tree,” Arvyn said quietly. “Apparently it’s good luck if you tie a ribbon to an old evergreen tree on the shortest day. I thought Leonie would find it pretty.”
“Great job, little brother,” Oleksander grinned as he draped his long arm around his little brother’s shoulder. “She’ll love it.”
The teenager laughed as he put his little brother into a headlock and tousled his golden hair playfully. Cain jumped at them, not wanting to be left out.
The siblings laughed as they fell into a pile of shoveled snow, the white powder cushioning their fall.
“Wow! Look at this nanny!”
The princes turned to see their little sister flying towards them, her red cloak trailing out behind her. Her nanny smiled broadly as she followed the young girl, the king and keep a short distance behind.
Oleksander got to his feet and brushed off the snow from his clothes before helping his young brothers do the same. When she reached them, the queen broke free from her husband and gave her sons a quick squeeze as she smiled at them.
“Well done, boys,” the king said loudly as he clapped Oleksander on the shoulder. “It is quite a feat to put this together so quickly.”
Oleksander bowed his head with a broad smile.
“I now declare that the Winter Festival is open!” The king announced loudly, raising his arms in the air.
Music filled the air as the festival began. A handful of servants had created an impromptu band with a tambourine, lute, rebec and shawm. One of the maids and grooms sang in time to the music, whilst their crowd clapped along to the jovial melody.
“Go and enjoy yourselves,” the queen laughed, ushering the children into the courtyard before heading back to her husband.
They made their way through the stalls of expertly made trinkets and gifts. Some of the gardeners had made small wreaths from winter flowers and evergreen branches. Some had ribbons and bells tied to them, others were placed around fresh candles. Two of the maids displayed their design skills with their doll clothes, much to Leonie’s delight. One of the servants, a broad and towering man with a bushy beard, shared the delicate silver jewellery that he had been crafting whenever they went home for a time. Thanks to the queen, he had even been able to inlay some small gems into a few of them. Beside him was a knight who was busy drawing lifelike sketches with charcoal, whilst one of his comrades showed off his small canvas oil paintings. There were freshly carved wooden toys and expertly carved candles.
Leonie’s eyes lit up when she noticed the kitchen staff’s table of goodies. They served fresh bowls of warm mushroom soup with extra rolls of freshly baked bread, the middle still warm from the oven. Then there were the sweet treats of egg custard, apple tart, spiced cake and candied almonds. Oleksander’s cheeks flushed when the head cook proudly announced that the first prince had made the marchpane himself.
Garrick and Kellan happily took a cup of warm mead from the head cook as they let their charges revel in their hard work.
“Are you having fun, sister?”
Leonie beamed at her oldest brother, crumbs of a spice cake decorating her chin. Her nanny tutted beside her as she pulled out an embroidered handkerchief from her apron.
The oldest prince laughed as he grabbed his sister’s round face and rubbed away the crumbs with his sleeve.
“Thanks so much, Olek! I love it!”
She wrapped her arms as far around his shoulders as she could and squeezed him tightly. He patted her golden head softly for pushing her gently away. His forehead furrowed as he glanced over his shoulder, the sensation of being watched causing his body to stiffen.
“Leonie! Olek!”
He turned to see Arvyn waving them over, a broad smile stretched over his face. He stood in front of the small stage of hay bales, the biggest grin Oleksander had ever seen stretched over his youngest brother’s face. Cain clapped his hands beside him as he tried to keep time with the impromptu band.
Leonie tugged on his big brother’s sleeves, pulling him eagerly towards their siblings.
The queen leant her head gently on her husband’s shoulder, a content sigh escaping from her upturned lips and she watched the children spin in a little circle.
King Oleksander pushed himself away from her and dropped into a deep bow. His golden eyes twinkled as he extended his jewelled hand towards her, a cheeky smile playing beneath his bushy beard.
“May I have this dance,” he said softly as he bowed to his wife.
She giggled, covering her mouth as she extended her other hand towards him. “It would be my pleasure, sir.”
The frosty air wash filled with laughter and music as the royal family danced freely, their maids and servants joining in beside them.
A small silver bird ruffled its glistening feathers in the boughs of the fir tree, it’s keen pale blue eyes watching the family warmly. After a while, it leapt into the sky, a trail of twinkling snow falling in its shadow. Its voice rang out over the gathering, a high musical song akin to bells ringing.