“That tragedy has always saddened me.”
“Tragedies are sad, Queen,” was his unapologetic response. “Fall is the season for Mersania.” As he shrugged, his cloak fluttered back, and I glimpsed a dagger hilt poking out of his boot. My blood cooled several degrees. The long sleeves of his threadbare shirt and the pooled fabric of his pants might hold any number of additional daggers. I wondered how many people he’d stabbed with them.
“Mersania’s story has special meaning to me, as a mother,” Queen Arencaster said. I had to admire her poise. This guy didn’t intimidate her at all! “It makes me grateful I am able to be there for my daughter, when she permits me.” It was the first time I’d heard the queen express anything but exasperation with Fiona.
“Ah! So the young prodigal has returned.” The gypsy’s pale blue eyes burned out of his dark face, consuming all that they touched. And now, their heat shifted…to me. “As always, your adventures are the talk of Autumnstead.”
I made my face an expressionless mask. He reminded me of the people my coworkers called ‘characters’ waiting at the bus stop on late nights at Portalis Park. I never managed to notice them until they had trapped me in a long conversation. Not that I could edge away in this instance.
“She does not speak.” His gaze intensified. It took all my willpower not to squirm. Somehow, his eyebrows were black. I wondered if he colored them or his head hair.
“She has strayed into enchantment,” Queen Arencaster answered. “If it does not lift in a few days, it may be necessary to heal her at the capital.”
“As sure as my name is Reldion le Valen, I would do no less for any in my Family!” the man declared.
“I could not agree more,” Queen Arencaster said, though her conviction seemed rather cool and impersonal compared to Reldion’s passion. “If you will excuse me, Sir le Valen, I must greet my other guests.”
Reldion bowed, giving me one last glance.
Faxon’s crash course on the banquet guests had been well-intentioned. (Right?) However, it had made me nervous when I hadn’t been before. With my hands clasped in front of me to hide their sweating, I joined the queen on the front line of greeting our guests.
What Faxon hadn’t counted on was that Queen Arencaster was also curtsying. Being the queen, she didn’t have to bow as deeply as I. But I could still watch for variations from the corner of my eye. And more, Queen Arencaster greeted each guest or group of them by name.
In this way, I learned that the Latules were punctual, arriving on the heels of our conversation with Reldion. I discovered Lavinia Latule did resemble Queen Arencaster, but only superficially. Had she been at a Portalis casting call, she'd have been snapped up right away as the Snow Queen, with her frost-blond hair, porcelain skin, and eyes like midnight flecked with blue diamond stars. Despite my curiosity, I tried not to stare; Fiona had seen her aunt many times before, after all. Later, I also noticed that those born into the Latule family somewhat resembled the queen and Lavinia, with their muscular build and golden hair. However, their hair and skin tended more toward warm summery hues, compared to the sisters’ paler, wintry complexions.
Lady Lavinia Latule raked her gaze over me several times, bubbling all the while about how wonderful “my” return was. With narrowed eyes, she proceeded to the table, arm in arm with her husband Lord Skyler Latule. In the modern world, Lord Skyler Latule would have been an accountant or another boring, overlooked little man. He even had a gut, something I’d not yet seen in what I’d come to call ‘the Other World.’ What remained of his hair was pulled into a low ponytail. Their son Sterling abandoned us mid-introduction to run and shriek with the gypsy children.
Many more from Latule came before I sighted a familiar face: Lady Ariana. My heart hit the brakes with a screech that slammed through my entire body. Would she recognize me from this morning? She seemed nice enough, but in my experience, people had a way of failing that test when it counted. My entire being wanted to hide under the table like I did at my fifth birthday party. Of course, I didn’t dare to move.
“Lord Chaed Ivenbury. Lady Ariana.” Queen Arencaster curtseyed, graceful and gracious, heartfelt as though she hadn’t been doing it for the last half hour. I followed suit, keeping my eyes on the ground.
“It is wonderful to see Your Majesty,” Lady Ariana said in her mellifluous voice. “It has been so long.” I dared a glance at her. Her eyes were mirrors reflecting my own image back to me, giving no sign she knew I was an imposter.
Lord, lady, and queen talked for a few minutes. Inevitably, the issue of my ‘enchantment’ came up. At its mention, I thought I saw Lady Ariana’s long eyelashes flick up. If she were to disclose anything, this would be the time. I braced myself and waited, but the moment passed. Lady Ariana said nothing. I relaxed, believing more with each turn of the conversation that she was the good person Tolliver had said she was.
Now that I was not worried Lady Ariana would reveal me, I turned my attention to her husband. A muscular man with wavy chestnut brown hair to his shoulders, his chin was an inch or two above the top of my head. Strangely, Lady Ariana was taller than him. I hadn’t really noticed her height when I’d seen her earlier today. I watched the ground as she and her lord strolled to their table. Unsurprisingly, her shoes were golden slippers with completely flat soles.
Lord Chaed Ivenbury’s older brother and his family were the next to greet us, followed by their mother and father. By this time, the hall had come alive with conversation. Gypsy and noble children raced around the room with dogs large and small. The servants put out place settings, baskets of fall flower arrangements, and lit the candles in their tall holders upon the tables. Flames from the fireplace and braziers sent jagged shadows darting across the walls. Aromas of meat, potatoes, vegetables, and bread crept through the room as the feast was wheeled in, and our guests seated themselves.
“There are only a few left to arrive,” Queen Arencaster said, anticipating my question.
I was not alone in hoping these stragglers would hurry. Steaming food was dished out on the plates but remained untouched. No one ate before the queen, I realized. And Queen Arencaster would not eat until all the invited arrived.
Not long after, the last of Ivenbury’s people came. (Most of Latule had been present before Lord Chaed and Lady Ariana ever arrived.) When everyone was seated, Queen Arencaster and I took our places at chairs elevated somewhat over the other guests’. (Luckily the table rose at these points as well.) The king’s seat remained empty.
“Lords and ladies, friends and family from neighboring lands, welcome to Castle Arencaster.”
“It’s more a manor than a castle,” Lady Lavinia whispered to her husband loud enough for me to hear. My ears burned. Tolliver had been right. She was aggressive.
“Thank you for joining me tonight on this most joyous occasion: the homecoming of my beloved daughter, Fiona. She has traveled wild paths; she has been lost and returned home again. To my great joy, she has expressed regret for burdening us with her selfish act. And she has repented! Fiona Arencaster will wander no more!”
“We’ve heard that before,” Lady Lavinia hissed.
Before I could hear more, her voice was quickly swallowed in Queen Arencaster’s declaration: “Now I implore you: eat, drink, and celebrate!” With all eyes upon her, the queen cut and ate a ceremonial first slice of meat. Conversations throughout the room resumed.
I took just enough meat and gravy to be polite and piled the rest of my plate with vegetables. Both turned out to be disappointingly bland. I wondered if I could introduce Autumnstead to spices while I was here.
The Autumnstead bread was a different story altogether. Its crusty outside, the warm, cloud-soft inside with melted butter made a divine combination. Gerry had always shunned breads and refined sugars and encouraged me to do the same. I’d always felt disappointed that in our year together, Gerry and I had yet to go out for ice cream. As a little girl, I had always pictured my boyfriend and me on a soda shoppe d
ate.
Well, what would it hurt? I challenged myself as I debated a second piece of bread. I didn’t have to tell Gerry. I was working hard at rescuing him, after all.
Having dinner with all these people I didn’t know was a lot less intimidating since no one expected me to talk, I reflected, enjoying a third piece of bread. Because I wasn’t able to converse, I tried to show interest by listening, making eye contact, and attempting to smile at people.
Several times, Lady Lavinia conveniently “forgot” my enchantment and tried to engage me by asking about things close to Fiona’s heart: hunting, wars across the sea, had there been any word regarding King James? I suppose the real Fiona would have taken the bait. My lack of knowledge on any of the subjects helped me keep silent. Lady Lavinia moved on to other conversations, but I could tell she wasn’t satisfied with something. I hoped she would drop it soon; she was making me nervous.
As the servants made the rounds offering beer or wine, the players struck up a tune that wrapped its notes around me like chains, making me at once their captive listener.
“Lords and ladies, I present you ‘Princess Mersania, The Last of the First People.’ Woeful, the end of the First People, once so exalted: tall, ageless, beautiful, rich beyond count, erudite sorcerers. So, they passed centuries, living as gods upon our earth in the highest mountain palaces. Humankind, still in their infancy, lived beneath them, unnoticed, little different from the animals…
“But as the seasons pass, so too, the ages. Humankind’s sun illumined the sky with rosy dawn. The First People, for all their long years, were not immortal. Their elders died, and over the centuries, their empires declined, dwindled. All their long years had never taught acceptance, and they passed away pining for what was. Humans continued to overcome problems that were mere footnotes in the First People’s histories.
“The last of the First People’s children were brought into the world in the hope of rejuvenating the race. And so…somber Mersania, born with the First People’s white hair and eyes of silver. The youngest, Mersania was their treasure, not permitted to leave Milandeir, the Last City, with the others when they came of age to wander.
“For a time, it seemed the children would bring new hope to the Last City, to people trying to smile and carry on through their grief.
“The children grew, questioned the old ways, rebelled. The fires of their vitality burned strong. Some sought companionship among humans. The elders, of course, resisted.
“‘It is pointless to attempt relations with humans,’ they argued. ‘As well befriend a cockroach! How could there possibly be understanding between the two?’”
“Still, some of the children insisted they saw a spark in the humans. Mersania was not among them. She hid in her family’s crumbling palace, where more rooms were sealed than used and listened to her mother’s wistful tales of the glorious past.
“The children grew in stature and wisdom and finally persuaded the elders to reconsider the humans. In winter, a party of First People went to Memloch, a human city the children frequented, to see this potential for themselves. Were the humans no longer the primitive beasts they had been ages ago?
“The elders found that the humans had grown in learning, could almost be considered civilized. ‘Under our tutelage, the old ways could live again in them,’ they mused.
“Neither elders nor children ever returned home.
“The humans had learned of the First People’s wealth, their magic mirrors. Greed inspired the human king to send out a band of murderers, who attacked in a lonely field far from the First People’s home, from any who might help. Ere the blood-soaked snow melted, the Memloch humans raided the Last City, killing and looting.
“In their grief, the survivors of the Last City followed the fallen. Some destroyed themselves. Most took to their beds and never rose again.
“Beautiful Mersania, the last child, still too young to understand. Mersania, kneeling at her mother’s bedside, clutching her cold hand. Mersania, fleeing down the street, pounding at doors, crying for help.
“And at last she knew. She was orphaned, with long lonely life before her.
“She returned to her family’s palace, to their mirror room. There she sat on a stool, looking desperately from reflection to reflection, seeking her family in her own living face.
“Eventually, humans came again. Mersania hid. When they had gone, she left the Last City to wander. She had found something to live for. But what?
“So, be watchful on the road, good travelers. She still is walking, somber Mersania, born with eyes of silver and the First People’s white hair trailing ghostly behind her.”
The applause started as Lady Ariana, leaning on her husband Lord Chaed Ivenbury, came to Queen Arencaster’s side. “Apologies, Queen,” Lord Chaed said. “We must go. My wife is unwell.”
Lady Ariana’s dark hair veiled her face, rising with her shallow gasps.
“Is there something we might do to help?” Despite Lady Ariana’s obvious distress, Queen Arencaster remained calm and composed, as if she had every confidence in the world that she could handle the situation. Despite how her commanding personality tended to squash me like a bug, I had to admire her in that moment.
Lady Ariana whispered something into Lord Chaed’s ear. “Thank you, Queen,” he answered. “But My Lady does not wish to be a bother and distract your guests from Princess Fiona’s homecoming.”
“That is gracious of you,” Queen Arencaster said. “However, if her condition is serious, I must insist you permit my physician to help.”
More whispers from the dark-haired woman.
“She says rest in her room will restore her,” Lord Chaed said.
“Very well.” Queen Arencaster directed a servant to show them to their room.
Hoping Lady Ariana really would be okay, I turned back to the entertainment. In a jarring change of pace, four Wagoners were juggling, while musicians in their troupe sang and played lively tunes. The rest, and a good portion of the nobles, clapped along.
When the Wagoners took a break, the servants processed in with platters of pies and tarts for dessert. I accepted a slice of cherry pie, only to realize I didn’t have a fork. I waited, watching the red filling steam like lava around the golden-brown crust. Around me, dinner guests young and old lifted their pie to their lips using their hands. I swallowed, thinking of my/Fiona’s white dress. There had to be a way to eat it without spilling. As cautious as though I were diffusing a bomb, I raised the pie to my mouth, leaned what felt like half my body over the table.
“Princess Fiona?” a high-pitched voice piped up just as I bit down. “Could you show us your mirror magic?”
Cherry filling flamed down my throat as I turned to Queen Arencaster. Magic? How had she, Faxon, and Tolliver failed to mention this? Did they think I could work miracles?
“Oh please?” On second look, it was Sterling Latule doing the pleading. His hazel eyes, overly-widened in phony innocence, glittered with his mother’s intelligence.
“It would mean so much to my son,” Lady Lavinia said with cloying maternal love I doubted she were truly capable of.
“Of course she can, Sterling,” Queen Arencaster said.
What?! Cold sweat ran down my sides and tickled my forehead. It was like my worst nightmare of appearing before a Portalis audience without knowing what character I was going to play.
“Why Princess.” Lady Lavinia oozed consideration. “Are you feeling ill?”
Obviously I didn’t answer.
Queen Arencaster had pulled one of the servants aside; he was nodding deeply and often. I recognized when important, detailed instructions were being given. Oh God, she was really going to make me do it! My stomach flipped as fast as the Wagoners, who were now entertaining with feats of acrobatics and tumbling.
I thought briefly of running away to my room. But in Lady Lavinia’s eyes, I was an imposter until proven true. If I ran away, she would have strong grounds for her accusations and might c
onvince others who did believe I was Fiona. With growing dread, I realized I didn’t dare shrink from this test.
Queen Arencaster had to have a plan! I thought. She just had to!
The Wagoners played a fanfare as the head of the Arencaster servants brought in the mirror. The merry notes seemed to mock my trepidation. Still, Queen Arencaster gave nothing away. At last, the mirror’s funeral-slow march ended in front of the fireplace. Children hurried to get a front row view. Sterling, that little devil, stood on his chair, with Lady Lavinia beside him, two mountain lions waiting for the right moment to pounce on their prey.
“Our people tell many stories about these mirrors, intermingling facts and legends through the generations so it is impossible to tell where one stops and the other begins.” Queen Arencaster’s voice cut through the dull roar of excited conversations. “No one is certain what gives a person the ability to use the magic of the mirrors, or what purpose it serves. My daughter is one of the rare individuals blessed with the talent, which she has agreed to demonstrate tonight.”
Inwardly, I winced. Showing off “Fiona’s” powers for curious onlookers seemed a bit like a circus. Their rapt faces weren’t about to take no for answer, however.
“If you please, Fiona,” Queen Arencaster concluded her speech by saying. She nodded toward the mirror.
I swallowed and resisted wiping my hands on Fiona’s dress. I tried to give off an unhurried air as I approached the ornate wooden stand. The glass itself, the size of a hand mirror, was mounted in an ornate frame of autumn leaves, sunflowers, berries, and acorns captured in various shades of gold and orange and red gems. I expected the metal would be cold to the touch; instead, its warmth startled me. I supposed the fire could have heated it, but in such a short time?
I turned my attention to the intricate details of the frame. Was there a hint how to make the mirror do its thing?
Unsurprisingly, nothing.
Rescuing the Prince Page 6
