by Anna Mendell
The old man gazed at Rosa in admiration. “The princess speaks the old tongue better than I do. I asked her if she liked the prince and wished to be our princess. She said that she liked him very much and would be our princess if we would have her.”
The assembly buzzed with excitement and had to be silenced with the pounding of the royal staff. The king then asked the scholar, “What is the scroll you brought with you?”
The scholar cleared his throat. “The scroll is an ancient manuscript that the last princess of Aurlia transcribed with her own hand, telling the old story of the faerie gifts to the golden kings. It was taken from the castle library when its inhabitants fled the invasion and has been safeguarded for generations as one of our ancient treasures. It would never have been brought out again to the open if such a claim to the princess’ identity had not been made. The Princess Rosamund’s hand and the hand in the manuscript are the same. I for one am satisfied that this is the true Princess Rosamund, last in the line of the Golden Kings of old and heir to the throne of Aurlia.”
The assembly erupted into thunderous applause, and it took several resounding thumps of the king’s staff to bring it back to order. The conclave was quickly brought to a close as the old man’s opinion held great weight amongst the western lords.
After the proceedings were over, the king drew Erik aside. “Was that silver pendant truly given to you by your mother?” he asked thoughtfully. When Erik nodded, the king laughed. “Even I am half-convinced by your story.”
“Father, everything that the princess and I have said is true,” Erik said earnestly.
King Mark shook his head. “I am no believer in legend, though I do admit its power over the common mind. Be grateful that you have convinced the western lords, but…,” and here his voice became as hard as iron, “never forget, my son, who holds the true power in Lothene.”
“Father, please, I will ever be your faithful son,” Erik said, trying to hide the hurt from his voice.
The king merely nodded and signaled that they should both join the rest of the court for the feast.
The throne room was empty save for the queen, who remained immobile in her seat. Throughout the entire conclave, she had been as cold as snow on the mountaintop and, while the assembly had thawed before the princess, she had only grown colder. She had not spoken or moved during the entire proceeding, but, when the princess had spoken in the old tongue, her long fingers had clenched, and, now as she unfurled them, she saw that she had drawn blood.
She rose and made her way to the feast, the majestic folds of her red cloak trailing behind her as she walked. She was patient, and she would bide her time.
THE days that followed were some of the happiest that Erik and Rosa knew. They both found a home in each other’s arms, and the kingdom was balanced on the fine edge of peace. Rosa saw that Lothene did not only need healing from civil discord, but that its spirit needed renewal as well. A forgetfulness had settled over the land, diminishing the memory of its former glory. Rosa longed to reach out to the people, so she confided in Erik hopes for a royal library that would also house a school for children, where scholars would gather and where children would not only learn how to read and write, but also learn the history of Aurlia and Lothene, all its legends, and its founding myth.
They brought their plan before the king, and he sanctioned it. Erik oversaw the building of the royal library at the foot of the mountain, and, when news of its erection spread by word of mouth and proclamation, many came forward with gifts for the library, old books that had been salvaged from pillage and flame. It was completed before the year was out, and there was a ceremony that installed the books into the library, and the princess’ ancient manuscript was the crown of the collection. Rosa considered each book an unexpected treasure and, if she ever did mourn for all that had been lost, she also marveled over the fact that her life had been spared from destruction and considered her time a gift.
Erik, patiently and with slow counsel, advised his father in the governance of the western lands. Though he could not convince his father to return to the Grey Hawk his old title of Westhane, the disinherited lord was given new lands in the western provinces, and he became Lord Gavin once again. This took skillful maneuvering, however, for the queen never failed to point out to the king that the Lord Gavin’s loyalty would lie with the prince, not with king. But the aureole of peace that had descended on the kingdom swayed the king’s heart, and he eventually gave in to his son’s request. The queen saw that she had lost her control over the king, and the serpent of envy that had coiled in wait in the shadows sank its sharp fangs into the secret chambers of her heart.
THE months went by, and one day Erik and Rosa joyfully announced that they were expecting a baby. The queen greeted the news with smiles, and her words were all flowers and sunshine, but the fang of jealousy bit even deeper. She sought out the princess alone in her chambers to congratulate her on the joyful news.
“The birth of your child will be the final seal guarding the peace of Lothene. You and Erik must be overjoyed,” she said.
Rosa smiled. “That we are, for the kingdom’s sake, but mostly for ourselves.”
“Of course it will be a child of both the old and the new kingdom. I must admit that I have often wished to read your ancient manuscript, but, of course, I do not know the old tongue.”
“I can teach it you!” Rosa exclaimed, and the queen perceived with disgust that Rosa was reaching out to her, trying to find a way for them to become closer.
Queen Sigrid smiled bitterly. “It is admirable that you do not desire to keep such knowledge to yourself. Many believe that knowledge is power and are loath to part with it.”
Rosa shook her head. “There is nothing of the old kingdom that I wish to keep secret, and hope that all may someday love the memory of it as I do.”
The queen waved her hand impatiently. “I would take care, princess. Too deep a longing for the past is dangerous, and things not understood are often feared. Not everyone approaches knowledge with the same purity of heart that you do.”
Rosa fell silent, so the queen spoke again. “You related that the manuscript you transcribed tells the story of seven faerie gifts, does it not? Do you also bear such gifts?”
“Yes, they were given to me by the faerie to aid in the governance of the kingdom. They are meant to mediate between the mortal and the faerie realms.”
“Do you believe that your first-born child will also receive such faerie gifts?”
Rosa seemed startled by the question. “That I do not know. Faerie seems so far from this world, and I do not know how to call it back.”
“But if you could, would you?”
Though Rosa did not speak, her translucent features betrayed the happiness she felt at the thought, and the queen felt her heart constrict with fear. The queen swiftly rose. “I wish you and the crown prince the greatest joy.”
Queen Sigrid went to her bedroom to brood over what she had just discovered. The queen was content with the balance of power: the king was feared by the people, and he let her have her own way. She had never considered the prince much of a threat. Perhaps she had been unwise to overlook him, but alone he could do nothing. The princess was different. Her presence alone drew love and adoration from the people. If the princess did manage to bring back Faerie, then a new age would dawn, and she, the queen, would be consigned to the shadows of forgetfulness. Queen Sigrid laid her hand over her barren womb and wondered if she should also bear a child, but that would mean dealing with Erik as well.
The queen endured many sleepless nights wrestling with her helpless fury. She fell ill, and Rosa herself tended to her, but this did nothing to stem the queen’s silent hatred for the princess and only stoked her venom further. She writhed in unbearable agony, until one night she fell asleep and dreamed a dark dream. At the end of her dream, she saw a dark woman with blood red lips and a pitiless smile, who held out to her a leaden staff. The queen wrapped her fingers around the staf
f and, when she woke, she smiled the same pitiless smile as the dark woman in her dream.
The queen began collecting plants from the thickly shadowed regions of the forest and laid them to dry in a cottage she had had the king build in the wood only for her. She mixed concoctions seeped in gentle poison, slow acting drugs that could only lull one to sleep in large doses. And the sleep could be as deep and as still as death, or filled with nighttime horrors and tormenting dreams. Or they could be dreams that unhinged the mind and made the sleeper walk in a waking sleep. Those were the drugs that she dried and aged in the slow simmering of time. They would be ready in nine months, just when she would need them.
EMMA WAS IN the castle kitchens preparing a light meal for the princess when Dunstan’s head popped through the door. When he caught sight of her, the rest of him followed.
“Emma, I’ve been searching for you. I’ve barely caught a glimpse of you these past few days.”
The dark-haired girl ignored him and continued slicing though fruit, her knife thudding sharply on the wooden counter.
“Is that for our pregnant princess? You will be running many like errands in the months to come, I warrant.”
“I’d prefer that you didn’t refer to Princess Rosamund in such a manner.”
“You know, Emma, I cannot help but notice that you have been very cold of late.”
She did not say anything, but was busy pouring a drink into the princess’ goblet.
“Will not my ministering angel tell me why she is being so unkind?”
Emma spilled some of the drink onto the napkin and had to get a new one.
“Emma, an angel should not frown so.”
The handmaid glared at him with frustration. “I saw you flirting with the kitchen maid the other day.”
“I am innocent.” Dunstan held up his hands. “She was the one flirting with me.”
“And you were flirting with the serving maid before that.”
“Jealously does not become you, Emma. You know that all that means nothing and that my heart lies at your feet.”
Emma’s eyes flashed. “Where your heart lies is no matter to me. If you will give me leave, I must bring this to the princess.” She shoved past him with an indifferent air.
DUNSTAN made his way to the prince’s study, where he found Erik sealing some papers, and the fair-haired man slumped in a chair with a groan. He looked up at the prince and then shielded his eyes. “Would you wipe that idiotic grin off your face? Your happiness is blinding.”
Erik glanced up at his friend. “What has put you out of temper?”
“My angel is falling to earth.”
Erik shook his head. “With the way you carry on, it is no wonder. She is only human, Dunstan.”
“Not you, too,” Dunstan groaned. “It is not as if I were married to the lady. All of my flirting is harmless anyways. But I should have known better than to come to you. You’ve only ever had eyes for one woman, and fatherhood is going to make you even more unbearable. I am going to take myself off to find a more sympathetic ear.”
“If your ear wears skirts, Dunstan, I warn you. You may lose Emma.”
“I am going to see the princess!” Dunstan said, rising indignantly. “She understands me better than you do, I believe.”
“And she can whisper words in your favor to her handmaid. So you see, I do understand you.” Erik’s voice was grave, but his eyes were laughing.
“Such suspicions I would not believe in one who calls himself my friend,” said Dunstan with wounded dignity. “I leave you to your papers and your fanciful dreams of joy in approaching fatherhood, and I console myself with the thought that soon all your dreams will burst at the bitter truth of sleepless nights and endless crying.” He stalked out of the room to have his ruffled feelings soothed by the princess.
THE months passed, and a little girl was born. The prince and princess named her Oriana, after the golden dawn, for she was like the morning sun rising upon their hearts. Early one morning, the sun shone through their high tower window and Erik woke to its pale light bathing the sleeping form of his wife beside him. She stirred at his side, woke, and then smiled at him sleepily.
“I never tire of watching you wake up,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose.
She stretched and climbed out of bed. “Little Oriana has been quiet all through the night.”
Erik was watching his beloved wife stoop to lift their baby from the cradle when she suddenly uttered such a terrible cry that all his drowsiness instantly fled and he sprang out of bed to her side. What he saw struck him dumb with horror. The swaddling clothes had tumbled open at Rosa’s touch. Its contents spilled over, covering everything around them, including the cradle and the princess, in a thick layer of ash. There was no baby in the cradle.
Erik ran to the door and called the guards, who were immediately ordered to apprehend anyone carrying a baby, but there was no one to be found in the castle. As the days went by, no one could find baby Oriana in the towns or villages or throughout the entire kingdom.
The search continued as Erik and Rosa waited in agonizing silence, faces pale and eyes hollow with sleepless nights. The weeks went by, weighed down with dread, and they heard no word of their missing baby. Rosa rarely left her room. At first, she sobbed by the cradle inconsolably, but, as the days went by, she merely sat in silence, waiting for the news that did not come. Erik yearned to aid in the search, but he could not leave Rosa, and there was no lead, no hint or whisper, ransom note or motive, only loss. Doubt and rumor whispered throughout the castle walls, but Rosa and Erik did not hear them, so wrapped up were they in their grief.
Erik observed in a half dazed state that the queen remained by Rosa’s side, gentle and comforting. She ensured that the princess ate the little that she did, taking great care over her meals, allowing no one but herself to prepare them. Erik was grateful for the queen’s unexpected kindness and felt that he had misjudged her, that her coldness was a shield she hid behind, and that she stood true in times of hardship.
A FEW months after the baby was stolen, Queen Sigrid drew Erik aside to her chambers and said, “You and I must protect the princess from the rumors that have taken hold and ensure that she never hears of them.”
Erik gazed at her questioningly.
“Then you do not know? It is said that the princess is cursed. That she is a witch from the Shadowood and that she turned her daughter into ash, which is why we cannot find her.”
Anger surged up in Erik’s chest. “Who dares speak thus of my wife? Tell me, and I will defend her honor,” he cried, reaching for the hilt of his sword.
“Peace, Erik,” the queen said, laying her hand over his. “That is not how one goes about dispelling rumors. They are intangible and not something silenced by the sword.” She spoke in a soft and coaxing voice. “You and I love the princess and know that she is incapable of such a crime. But can you honestly hold the people to blame? What does anyone truly know of the princess? She is a stranger among us. The kingdom fears the witchcraft of the old kingdom, and terrible things haunt the wood, seeking revenge for past bloodshed.”
Erik shook his head. “Rosa has nothing to do with that.”
“I know,” the queen said soothingly. “I only repeat what others have said. But I do believe that there are hidden forces at work.” She studied his face carefully. “Do you know that one time, when you were a little boy, I feared that you were prey to a dangerous magic in the wood and sought to keep you away from it? I did not say anything because I thought I was mistaken. Was I mistaken, Erik?”
The prince thought of Ninny Nanny’s stolen sticks. “You were mistaken, my queen,” he said firmly.
She held his gaze. “Very well, then,” she said at last. “Go now to your princess and comfort her in her grief. Keep her away from others in the castle, so that she does not discover what is being said. She has enough sorrow to bear. Here, take this to her…” The queen went over to her bureau and poured a piping hot drink from a silv
er decanter. The smell of warm spices wafted over to Erik on the other side of the room. The queen extended the goblet to him.
“Have a taste,” she said.
The drink was sweet and pungent, sending a warm glow down to the tip of his toes.
“It’s to help settle her nerves,” the queen explained. “Dwelling too long on grief can unhinge the mind.”
“Thank you, stepmother. I don’t know what Rosa and I would do without your care.”
Her red lips broke into a gentle smile full of sympathy.
IT was soon after his conversation with the queen that Erik accepted in his heart that his daughter was most likely dead. His main concern was to watch over Rosa, shielding her from rumors, comforting her in her sorrow and embracing her during the nights.
At first, he did not notice that anything was wrong with Rosa, only that she slept later in the mornings and had difficulty waking up. Then, one morning, he awakened to the princess sleeping by his side fully dressed. He shook her awake, but she had no recollection of dressing in the night.
The next morning was the same, only this time her dress was stained with dirt, but again Rosa did not remember waking. She did not seem bothered by the strangeness of it, but merely floated about in a daze. Erik questioned the guards near his room, but they said that no one had come in or out of the bedroom.
Erik resolved to stay awake that night, but nothing unusual occurred, and Rosa slept by his side all through the night, though shadows crossed her faced, and she shed silent tears. The same occurred the next night, and, by the third, his eyes were so heavy that he could not keep them open. He woke abruptly in the middle of the night and saw that the space beside him was empty and that Rosa was gone.
He dashed out of the room in his sleeping tunic. The guards posted outside swore that they had seen no one leave the room. Erik had no time to argue, but resolved to look into that mystery later and immediately went outside the castle to search for Rosa. Recollecting the dirt, he sensed that she might be in the woods, though he feared what that might mean. He found the postern gate open and unguarded, another mystery he brushed aside to worry about later.
