“Well its snow. A little individual piece of snow. You don’t have snow?”
“There has not been snow on the Eighth moon or any of its sisters for thousands of years.” Esmerelda cut in.
She was floating along beside us, arm linked through Burkin. Surprise burped through me; I had all but forgotten he was even here.
“The air back home gets cold and snow falls, in tiny flakes shaped like your royal stamp. Only white. It’s like sand – really cold sand. ”
“White sand?” Happy stared at me in wonder. “We must do this. I must see snow. ”
“It just comes,” I shook my head, “when it’s cold. You can’t make it.”
“You can make anything my dear, it simply isn’t real.”
“Esmerelda, please stop it.” I begged.
“Yes or you can’t come to the party. I shall get the monkeys to take you to the tower and keep you there until you smile.” Happy grinned as she said this, as if it were a joke. “It is an offence to frown in front of the royal house. Most days anyway depending on the mood they are in. My father once had his cousin beheaded for complaining about finding a slug in his lettuce. ”
She laughed, I think because it amused her, and strode out ahead of us.
“She is completely mad isn’t she?” I said quietly to my fellow travellers.
“Seems okay to me.” Bob shrugged.
“You’re just eyeing up her jewels.”
“She’s not mad my child, she’s royal. It’s much worse.” Esmerelda sighed.