Seven | h.s

ii

As the sun broke over the horizon, Magdalena snatched a cloak from her wardrobe and pulled it over her shoulders. She tied the ribbons at her chest and tugged the vermilion hood over her head. Quietly, she slipped out of her chambers and crept through the corridors, ignoring the servants as they bowed their heads when she passed by. She turned a corner, heading toward the servants' wing, and kept her head low until she came upon a door leading outside. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, she lifted the latch and stepped into the crisp air of the morning, closing the door gently behind her. The wind nipped at her nose and cheeks as she walked down the snow-covered pathway leading to the gardens, but she didn't mind. In fact, she appreciated finally being able to feel something real.

When she arrived at the entrance to the gardens, she came to a halt. She looked at the scenery in admiration, taking a special liking to how the snow settled on stone arch over the entryway, the sunlight glinting as it landed on a few of the icicles that dangled from the stone.

"'Tis a beautiful morning, is it not?"

Magdalena whipped around at the sound of the unfamiliar voice bearing an English accent. There were not many Englishmen or women at court, except for Beth, and this was no voice of a woman. Behind her stood a man donning a black cloak darker than a night sky or rich ink. He removed his hood, revealing chocolate curls that were tied together at the nape of his neck. Magdalena inhaled slowly, shakily at the sight of the stranger.

"Apologies for startling you, madam," he said, bowing slightly. His plump lips formed a slight smile that barely reached his emerald eyes until it suddenly faded from his face. "You can understand me, can't you?"

Magdalena nodded. "Of course. It's only that I was not expecting such an accent. We don't have many English people here."

"I'm here for Christmastide," he replied, taking a step forward and crunching snow under the sole of his boot. "I heard the gardens are beautiful here, so I wanted to see for myself."

"And do they live up to your expectations?" Magdalena asked.

The man was silent for a moment, his eyes shifting from the gardens to Magdalena. "Unfortunately, I cannot make that judgement, as the beauty of something else has been rather distracting."

Magdalena scoffed softly, feeling her cheeks surge with heat. She looked down at the ground, pressing her lips together to hide a smile, and returned her gaze to his once she had recovered. "Are all Englishmen fluent in flattery?"

"No, no," he said with a smirk. "I can assure you that I am not quite like any other Englishman you will ever meet."

Magdalena swallowed hard. "I assume you're staying in the palace? Or do I need to inform the watchmen that they have let one of the villagers sneak in?" she asked, a hint of a smile lingering on her lips.

He chuckled lowly. "The watchmen need not be notified, I have been given rooms in the palace."

"Good. Well, I will leave you to your exploration," Magdalena said, gesturing to the gardens.

As she began to walk away, leaving him by the entrance, he called after her. "What is your name?"

She paused, looking over her shoulder at him. "Call me Elena."

"Harry."

———

Beth gazed out of a window in the hallway that overlooked the gardens, her fingers resting on the sill and breath fogging the glass. She squinted her hazel eyes as a figure came up behind the Princess, who she had been watching from the window as she neared the gardens. When she had gone into her chambers to wake her only to find her absent, she immediately knew where she had gone off to, and went to the window to be sure. And she was right; the Princess had once explained to her the importance that the gardens held in her heart.