Finding Aurora

by Rebecca Langham

“Red,” I breathed. My core always felt warm when she touched me, whether physically or spiritually. Warm in the way the twins felt when their mother’s arms engulfed them. Totally safe and completely trusting. She struggled to stay connected, her presence flickering like a candle caught in a crosswind. As though throwing herself into the task, Red grasped my shoulders for the briefest of moments, and then she was gone. It was just long enough to energise my arms, allowing me to tear the frozen memory free from the boys.

  In the ballroom, I released the hands of the young twins but kept my eyes closed so I wouldn’t disconnect from the space between worlds. I turned on the spot until I could see the essence of the dragon in front of me. After our inactivity, she’d curled up like a sleeping cat. The picture in my hands, imbued with the sounds, smells, and emotions of the three who’d conjured it, pulsated, alive and breathing.

  No spell can withstand true, experienced love.

  I hurled the picture at the stagnant dragon. The memory bay expanded into an enormous sheet and descended, engulfing her. It thinned and tightened until it became a second skin. The dragon’s long, spiky neck uncurled as she reared up. I opened my eyes.

  “What did you do?” Amir yelled, trying to be heard over the dragon’s ghoulish wails. Something was happening to her, and unlike the moment the goblins had remembered who they truly were, it caused her pain.

  “We reminded her who she is,” I replied, not blinking as I watched the dragon flap her wings in panic. Her flat head butted against the ceiling. She cried out and fell to the floor, sending shards of broken tiles about the space as her wings retreated into her body.

  “Mother!” Callum raced past me.

  Amir leapt forward and wrapped his arms around the young prince, keeping him out of harm’s way.

  “Let go.” Callum struggled against Amir.

  “I can’t,” he replied. “She could hurt you. Just stay back.”

  Callum balled his hands into fists, the muscles in his forearms throbbing beneath the skin, but he stopped struggling and stood still. His brothers seemed equally frustrated that they could do nothing, but they stayed behind us.

  The dragon’s skin started to melt away, revealing purplish, bloody flesh. We could see her bones shrinking and migrating underneath, the meaty tissue contracting, becoming smaller as its skeleton rearranged. The sight was far bloodier than the transformation of the goblins, the potency of the magic much stronger, and harder for the victim to endure.

  The animistic wails gave way to humanlike shrieks, a woman’s voice breaking through. As the heap of bones and muscle took the shape of a person, new skin spread from the soles of her feet, gradually encasing her form. She fell to the floor, panting. I ran to cover her with my cloak as she shivered. The scent of burnt flesh wafted through the air around her.

  “Your Majesty,” I soothed, tucking a thick curl of hair behind her ear. “You’re home. You’re safe.” I rubbed her back, and she started to cry. Her sons were upon us within seconds, and I withdrew, allowing them to embrace their mother. When she’d recovered, she would notice Anton’s absence, a moment I had no business being involved in.

  Amir appeared beside me as I stood to full height. “Look.” Nearby, a plain wooden door creaked open. “The princess,” he said flatly.

  “It must lead to the tower stairs,” I replied. “Are you ready?”

  He turned to look at me, his thoughtful eyes wide. “Talia—”

  “Don’t,” I asserted. “Please.”

  “You need to know some things before we go up there.”

  I said nothing but nodded. I knew what he was about to say. I’d not hidden my feelings very well. No doubt he had sensed my affection, an affection I’d being trying my best to quieten since we found the entrance to the tunnel beneath Oldpass.

  “You don’t need to. I can deal with this,” I told him, looking him directly in the eyes. Surprising to even myself, I meant it. I could cope with what was about to happen. Oldpass felt so familiar to me somehow. Being inside its ancient, fortified walls had helped to mitigate the intensity of my admiration. No, not mitigate it. Transform it.

  “I don’t want you to think that you’re not wonderful,” he said. “You are. I’ve admired you since I was an adolescent, when my parents first sought the right to employ you.”

  He’d noticed me back then? We’d seen one another during the years of my training, but never spoken. I’d had no idea he even knew my name all those years ago.

  “That means something. Thank you,” I replied.

  “It’s difficult to explain why I don’t feel for you what I think other adults feel for one another sometimes.”

  I searched his worried face for more information, trying to understand what he meant.

  “I…” He hesitated before continuing. “I love many people, but I’ve no desire to be intimate with any. I feel happy, I feel fulfilled, by my friendships, by the wonderful connections I share with others. Including you. I have no wish to be married to only one person, nor to engage in a physical romance with anyone. Do you understand?”

  My stomach clenched for a moment, but as it released, a flood of relief swept through my limbs and torso. “Amir,” I said, taking hold of his hands excitedly. “I understand! You’re just like Nazli.” My voice sounded childlike as I remembered an almost identical discussion with my former tutor. “She had no desire for physical love either. Thank you. Thank you so much for being honest with me.” The hint of tears glistened in his eyes as I spoke. “I didn’t realise it until just now. You and I are special to one another, but not in the way the world expects men and women to be important to each other.”

  He grinned. Brilliant white teeth contrasted the smooth, dark skin of his face as he leaned toward me, kissing my cheek. “That’s exactly right.”

  My own smile dissipated as a chilling thought occurred to me. “But that leaves us with a considerable problem,” I said, looking toward the door behind him. “How do we wake up the princess?”

  Chapter Seven

  THERE WAS NO mistaking the moment Briar Rose realised her son had died. There being no more we could do for them, Amir and I had left the queen with the princes so they might be alone.

  The corridor beyond the ballroom led to a narrow staircase that curved upward in a clockwise direction. The steps were coarse and uneven, clearly not designed for visitors or officials, and so we made our way with care. Torches lined the staircase, and at a touch of my fingers, I lit each one as we passed, gaunt and twisted shadows splashing across the dirty walls.

  The tower seemed like such a depressing and characterless space compared to the other areas we’d seen. Perhaps the north tower was a defensive position, designed as a kind of safe room should the castle come under attack.

  As we passed an opening in the outer wall, we stopped to take in the cool, fresh air. Amir and I gazed at the city of Oldpass. It was the first time we’d seen anything beyond the castle itself, and it was beautiful.

  Though about the same size as Grimvein, the architecture was entirely different. Paths were wider, some of them lined with magnificent jacaranda trees, others by squat, flat-topped homes. I rested my head against Amir’s shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around me. It was the most comfortable I’d ever felt with him. Our closeness was immutable. It was real, and it didn’t need to be anything other than what it was.

  I’d convinced myself that my attraction to him was romantic because of its intensity. Its purity. He—clearly wiser than I—knew that did not have to be the case, not at all. We breathed in unison as I took in the sad silence of Oldpass.

  Then, Queen Briar screamed. Her despairing voice tore through me like infinite shards of glass, and I hugged Amir, searching for an escape from the raw and unrelenting truth of her pain. His heart thundered against my ear as we took some small measure of comfort in each other. Her scream tapered out, only to be replaced by desperate, visceral sobs echoing up the stone steps. Each one hit me square in the gut.

  “We s
hould keep moving.”

  “Yes,” I replied, wiping away the tears that had travelled to my chin. “Perhaps we can at least return her daughter.”

  “And if we’re lucky,” he said as he turned to move up the stairs, “her husband as well.”

  “By the gods, yes. I almost forgot about the king. He could be anywhere in this city. Or anything.”

  “If we find Aurora…do you think the king might be open to negotiating an alliance with us? One that doesn’t require a marriage?”

  I sniffed back the last of my tears, determined to file them away for another time. “I’m sure he will. What reasonable person wouldn’t?”

  We fell into silence as we continued up the stairs. There was no more to say. No more we could do until we found Aurora. The torches I lit provided very little heat, and it was getting colder as we climbed.

  “Do you want my cloak?” Amir must’ve noticed my shivering.

  “No,” I said, grateful but insistent. “We must be nearly there. Even if she magicked the tower to seem higher than it is, such a spell would unlikely be infinite.”

  I’d always hated the curving staircases inside many royal buildings. Darkness did not scare me. It was the design. I always felt as if I were marching through an endless void, constantly moving but never getting anywhere. Yet, for once, that sensation did not come over me, despite the unnatural amount of time we’d been in motion. I didn’t feel lost or disoriented; I felt resolute, as though I knew where I was going and what I would do when I arrived. Though such a feeling made no sense, as I’d never been to Oldpass before, nor did I know what to do to break the curse. Though not impossible, it seemed unlikely Amir would be able to wake Aurora with the only known cure for such immense dark magic: true love. The kind of love expressed through touch. Through kiss.

  We came to a small landing before a large, open space where there might have once been a door. What little I could see of the circular room beyond was unnaturally bright given the sun had started its lazy descent beyond the horizon.

  Amir and I stood on the landing, considering each other. He smiled, and though I didn’t quite know why, I smiled back. We’d made it further—as far as we knew—than anyone else who’d sought out the sleeping princess. He’d told me things about himself I suspected he’d not told anyone before, and somehow, his trust and honesty had helped me realise I could love him in ways I hadn’t considered. Ways that were sincere and affectionate, but not romantic. Amir had freed us both, and together, we’d achieved something incredible. Even if we failed in our final task, we’d at least freed the brothers and their mother. That was something. If it had to be, it could be everything.

  “Who would’ve thought the two of us would actually get here?” I said at last.

  “You doubted?” He grinned playfully.

  I kicked at his shin gently. “I’m sure you did as well!”

  He turned towards the chamber beyond the landing, his smile fading as he seemed to steel himself. “Let’s see if she is in there.” His hand firmly gripped the pommel of his sword, and he looked ready for a fight. I sensed his thirst for action might be denied yet again.

  Without a word, I stepped past him and entered the room, Amir following behind. The capacious room was illuminated by an orb embedded in the ceiling, quite similar to my moonbeam stone but at least five times larger. Light spilled outward, luminous shards reaching for the simplistic bed in the centre of an otherwise empty space.

  She was really there. The princess.

  Aurora rested on her side, one hand pressed gently against her own cheek. Red hair spilled across her neck and shoulders, its flamboyant beauty made all the more magnificent by the contrast of a bland white nightgown. Her chest rose and fell, the sound of breathing rhythmic and robust. She was definitely alive, and so my own breathing quickened.

  “I didn’t really think she’d be here,” I said, incredulous.

  Amir exhaled loudly, as though he’d been holding his breath. “No,” he whispered. “I don’t think I did either.” He moved to the end of the bed and looked down at her slender form pensively. “It’s hard to believe this woman has been here, trapped for almost a century, in that exact position. She looks like she’s taking a nap.” He leaned forward and tilted his head to the side. “She’s quite beautiful.”

  I walked around the opposite end of the bed, circling it so I could see her face from the other side. As she came into view, I fell to the wooden floor, my knees suddenly too weak to hold me. Time slowed as my ribs tightened against my heart.

  Crimson hair. A narrow nose above generous lips and a soft chin. It couldn’t be. She…she…Aurora…the princess… My thoughts were leaves caught in a hurricane. I couldn’t grasp any of them.

  “Talia!” Amir hoisted me off the floor and held me so tightly he probably would have cut off my air supply if I’d actually been breathing. “What is it?” He drew back and took my face in his hands. “Are you hurt? Is it the poison again?” I could hear his words, yet they made little sense.

  My skin grew hot, fingertips starting to tingle. I curled my fingers and stabbed at my palms with my nails to force an inward breath. Sucking in the air, I refocused on Amir.

  “It’s her,” I managed to say, continuing to breathe heavily.

  Amir’s eyes squinted, and his eyebrows slanted inward.

  “It’s Red.”

  He relaxed his face as he moved his hands to my side, holding me just enough to make sure I didn’t fall again. “Your friend from the Other World?” He redirected his attention to Aurora’s sleeping form. I couldn’t follow his gaze. What if I was wrong? What if it wasn’t her? What if it was her? I didn’t know which was more terrifying.

  “I’m going to let go for a moment,” Amir warned before moving towards the bed. He knelt, and I finally let myself look at the two of them. He reached out and brushed loose strands of Aurora’s hair behind her ear. She didn’t stir as her face came into full view.

  “It’s you,” I murmured as I felt Red’s projected hand slip into mine, keeping my eyes on Aurora.

  Amir looked at me over his shoulder but said nothing.

  “You’re the princess.”

  “Yes,” Red replied, her voice barely audible as she struggled to speak through tears. “I didn’t know.”

  “All these years… This is exactly where we were meant to be,” I replied. Her thumb drew circles on the back of my hand, sending soft sparks of electricity through me. Sparks I knew would be forgotten as soon as her spirit disappeared.

  But not forever. Aurora was right in front of me. Real. Tangible. If I were to press my hand to Aurora’s face, it wouldn’t feel like a dream as it always did with Red. I’d be able to hold on to the memory of Aurora’s warmth, rather than mourn its passing.

  “Talia.” Red pulled at my arm, encouraging me to face her. I closed my eyes as I turned, fear clamping down on my spine like a bear trap. After a few moments of thick silence, she spoke again. “It wasn’t easy for me to get here. Tanit didn’t want me to remember. Please. Please look at me.”

  I opened my eyes cautiously, blinking away tears that took me by surprise. She smiled at me with such compassion that I couldn’t hold back the sob that erupted from me.

  “Don’t be upset, my Talia,” she soothed, cupping my face with her hands. “You found me.”

  “You made this happen, Red. Without you, I would never have ended up here.” It was astounding. Aurora, even though she might not have entirely understood why, had fashioned the making of her own salvation. It wasn’t Amir or me who had found a way to save Oldpass. It was her.

  “We did it together,” she replied.

  “What do I do? I don’t know how to send you home. To your body where you belong.” My heart raced faster under the scrutiny of her gaze. It pumped so hard I thought my sternum might snap. I’d searched those emerald eyes so many times before, but never with the possibility we could actually be…something.

  “It’s so easy,” she said through her s
mile, her tears slowing. “Do you love me?”

  I tried to swallow, but a hard lump had cemented itself inside my throat. Red swiftly moved her hands to my waist, pulling me towards her. I knew she was there in spirit only. Amir couldn’t see her, only the ways I reacted to her. I could feel her hands at that moment, but not her breath. There was no breath. There was no touch. Not really.

  She softly dropped her forehead against my cheek as she whispered in my ear. “Do you love me?”

  I couldn’t speak, so I nodded. The tears running down my face and the back of my throat wouldn’t let me speak. I’d always loved her, but I’d never dared hope anything could ever come of it.

  “Then kiss me,” she said. “Wake me up.” Like a cold mist that settles over warm water, she disappeared. I touched my fingers to my cheek, searching for some sign that she’d really been there. My skin was cold.

  “Aurora guided us here,” Amir said, still kneeling next to the antiquated bed. I pressed my hands to my stomach and willed my nerves to stop scrambling my insides. When I’d calmed somewhat, I moved to the bed and sat gently on the mattress.

  “Yes,” I told Amir. “She hasn’t been lying here helpless for a century.” I wiped away one last tear as I realised how proud of her I felt. “This…magnificent princess has been weaving together the threads that would see Tanit’s evil destroyed. She must have been astral projecting for so long she completely forgot who she was, though she still somehow knew what she needed to do.”

  “I know I can’t see her, but I don’t think she only came to you when you needed the help that would lead you here.”

  “No,” I replied, finally able to swallow. I slid my fingers along the length of her forearm and interlaced my fingers with hers. Though she didn’t move, I could feel the life pulsating through her body. Beautiful and magical life. “It became so much more.”

  Amir rose and took a few steps away. I shuffled up the bed and looked down at Red. No. Not Red. Red was a spirit, a reflection of the woman lying on the bed before me. I searched Aurora’s face. It felt wrong to kiss a person who slumbered, yet she’d invited me, and so I hoped what I was about to do could be forgiven.