Astrid Caddock

I thank you for the offer and may very well take you up on it, though I have no more to bear than would be expected. You must be so very busy yourself with your own household to run. How fares your husband, and your sisters too? How old is Lady Tamzin now?

"He’s fading. He’s not going to last. We must get him to my father."

Cautiously, Gwenna turned her eyes to slip a glimpse of her companion, gauge her reaction. Oh no. Oh no she was looking away. Blast, Gwenna! Too familiar with the princess. She squeezed her tummy in with a tiny gasp, and a hurried apology was halfway to the tip of her tongue when —

She blinked, face blank, momentum of her more careful steps catching for an instant. Astrid Caddock had just called her a dear. 

A moment passed before that bright bloom of warmth returnedto her, and a certain weight slipped from her shoulders. A hesitant sort of smile appeared across her lips, and then that hesitant sort of smile turned to a proper smile — though not one absent of some amount of embarrassment.

"It is a sweet habit," Astrid replied. "I am sure you can imagine, few are comfortable with such familiarity in my presence. Sheer novelty alone would make me happy to hear it." Her words are spoken dryly, with perhaps the slightest touch of irony, though it would be hard to interpret if she had private thoughts or feelings on the matter. 

You are quite right, Your Highness. I do wish I was not running out of surfaces to keep them on, though.

A problem indeed. You could consider offering them as decorations for the next new moon. [She steps a little closer for a better look] Or have them stitched onto a gown perhaps. 

Gwenna paused in her thoughts. Would the young Princesses Astrid and Sophia have indulged in the joys of the turn, the transition from Summer to Winter? Casting her memories back to her own upbringing, she had always been impressed with the etiquette and mannerisms of the finest of noble ladies. And Gwenna Trance always rebelled, at least a little. Goodness, what must it have been like to be brought up a Princess? Though Gwenna had been fortunate enough to be blessed with the sight of her companion’s charade — of none other than the Ruby — the memory, at that moment, seemed a little surreal. Had she really seen the Princess do that? Run her hands up her hip and beckon to a nervous crowd?

Her heart warmed just that little bit more. Astrid, though having no doubt endured long years of careful training and, perhaps, some strain under the weight of her and society’s standards (but she seemed to fit so effortlessly into her role!), she still knew how to enjoy herself. Right?

"I am sorry, I ought to have warned you that the paths can be terribly slippery. I suppose I am just used to them, and I did not think. The paths in town are more frequently traversed, which makes them so much safer to walk on, and there are the fires for feast days of course..."

"It - well, I could have sworn it was in there somewhere,” she babbled quickly, turning a slightly flushed face down to her basket. Wait! That was a smile upon Astrid’s face - she was joking! And…oh, you’re just being silly now, Gwenna! Take a look at yourself, you old goose. 

"Likewise, Your Highness," she returned, tucking a disobedient (and nonexistent) strand of hair behind her ear. "I thank you, once more, for the invitation. It truly came as a surprise — a pleasant one, at that." The radiant smile that followed should’ve managed to swallow up the last particles of her (visible) timidity. She hoped.  

A tad awkwardly, she cast a glance back at the gates through which they had passed. Or, in her case, almost been prohibited to pass. With a small flutter of satisfaction, Gwenna considered: the Princess had sent for her, come to help her, exercised her royal authority for Gwenna Hart’s sake. Here, a small victory! When she returned her gaze to admire the scenery before her, she did so not with a turn of her head, but a toss. The way she would’ve, back in the day, when she wore her hair long and bright and weaved with vanity and Southern sunlight.

The proper term for how she felt at that particular moment was 'warm and fuzzy'.

Astrid had always valued the limited privacy she could get. She enjoyed studying, riding, walking, archery. Solitude (or close enough) was calming, restful, only sometimes a bit lonely. She was beginning to worry she might lose the knack for company, if such a thing was possible. She could be somewhat cold, somewhat stiff and formal. Her mannerisms reflected the logical, sensible, practical side of her heart: economical, aloof. Not the side that, like anyone else, wished to be social and a worthwhile companion.

With a gentle nudge she selected a path mostly cleared of snow. Early mornings and late evenings the way could get terribly slippery with ice, but it usually was quite manageable during the midday hours. Of course, Astrid had spent years working on her balance and body control, growing graceful and strong, learning to collect herself correctly to keep any falls she did take relatively painless. She rarely gave the state of the frozen paths much thought, at any time of day.