A Beautiful Curse

by Kenley Davidson

  No. That wasn’t an option. Firming her jaw, Elisette got out of bed and readied herself for the day, tying a simple scarf over her auburn hair and concealing her dress beneath her shapeless library robe.

  Today would be different. She would make it so.

  Grabbing a few extra coins out of her purse, Ellie forced herself to walk down the stairs and stroll right past the dining room. It was early yet, so only a few of the girls were eating, but they watched with openly confused expressions as Ellie waved to Rilla.

  “Not hungry this morning,” she said brightly, and continued on out the door into the early morning light, already feeling better after this tiny bit of rebellion.

  Instead of ducking and dodging her way through the market square as she usually did in the mornings, Ellie took advantage of the early hour to stroll through in a more leisurely fashion, stopping to greet a few of her acquaintances as she went. There was already quite a bit of early traffic—mostly servants, housewives, and proprietors hoping to procure the best of the day’s perishable wares for themselves.

  Elisette was more interested in other things. After spending a coin on a hot pastry, she wandered past the artisans’ booths, admiring the work of weavers, seamstresses, metalsmiths, jewelers, painters, and more.

  “Hello there, Miss Ellie!” called one of the merchants, a gawky, long-faced fellow with a talent for woodcarving. He was older even than her father, and appeared dry and dolorous, but had been kind to Elisette ever since he caught her admiring his work.

  “Good morning, Horace.” Ellie smiled warmly at the proprietor and leaned down to pat the sad-looking dog that was always sprawled out beside the table filled with Horace’s wares.

  One of Anura’s most unique cultural oddities was their fondness for the enormous mastiffs that were bred and trained exclusively on Anuran soil. The animals were beautiful, intelligent, and slow moving until someone threatened whatever they’d been tasked to guard. Ellie had found them terrifying at first, as the backs of even the smallest representatives of the breed reached her waist. Their dark eyes and ponderous jowls appeared more than usually alarming, even to someone who was quite used to dogs. And everyone seemed to have one. They guarded every market stall, and strolled alongside their masters or mistresses while they shopped.

  Once she’d become accustomed to them, and realized that, as a rule, the animals were both friendly and perfectly well trained, Ellie had found herself wanting one of her own. Perhaps the other apprentices would hesitate to sabotage her if she had an enormous dog lying at her feet while she worked in the library.

  “What are you doing out and about so early, Miss Ellie?” Horace asked. He was one of the few people who never made her feel uncomfortable by staring. Perhaps it was because he had granddaughters.

  “I suppose I felt like doing something different today,” Ellie told him. “Do you have anything new since last week?”

  “Happens I do,” Horace said, his eyes twinkling in his long face. He reached under the table and brought out his latest creation. Like most of Horace’s work, it was a miniature, done in perfect detail. This one was a mermaid, one of the fabled, magical people who were rumored to make their home in the ocean beyond Caladonia. She was resting on a rock, her tail flipped up, with scales covered in tiny chips of Anura’s famous emeralds.

  “Oh, it’s lovely,” Ellie breathed, not even daring to touch it. “Lucky it’s well guarded though. That’s an expensive piece.”

  “Should fetch a pretty price,” Horace agreed.

  Ellie felt a pang as she gazed at it, reminded suddenly of her twin, Martin. He was, she hoped, still in Caladonia somewhere. Had he survived the tournament? Had he found a position? Or was he, like her, feeling lost and hopeless and considering returning home in disgrace?

  Sighing, Ellie thanked Horace and continued on through the market, soaking up the sights, the sounds and the anonymity of it all. There was so much bustle, few people seemed to even notice her, so she was free to enjoy the atmosphere without worrying that she could be accosted at any moment.

  “I’m sorry, Miss… Elisette?”

  The slight stammer came from behind her, and Ellie whirled while backing away a few more steps. She was shocked to see that she’d been addressed by the tall, golden-haired, still stunned-looking Prince Dauntry.

  “Your Highness,” she said, curtseying along with the rest of the crowd, who then returned to shopping as though it were not particularly unusual to see a royal prince in the marketplace. Perhaps it wasn’t.

  “Would you… walk with me?” the prince requested, and Ellie resisted the urge to grind her teeth. Was she allowed to say no?

  “I am very nearly due to begin work at the library,” she said instead. “Perhaps another time?”

  “Then I will be pleased to escort you,” Dauntry told her stiffly, not leaving much room for her to interpret his words as a request.

  Resigned to her fate, Ellie turned and trudged towards the rest of her day, wondering what on earth had possessed her to believe that spending her morning in the marketplace would be better than porridge and exclusion.

  Then she remembered the sheep’s cheese. Perhaps the two options were more or less evenly regrettable.

  “To what do I owe the honor of your escort?” she enquired, as pleasantly as she was able. If her reading of Dauntry was correct, they might pass the entire walk without uttering a word if she left the burden of conversation to him.

  “Miss Elisette, I was considering making a request for your aid,” the prince said, looking deeply uncomfortable, “but I have not yet settled within myself whether such a request would satisfy the demands of my honor.”

  Ellie took a step to the side, putting a bit more space between the two of them. “And what sort of aid might that be?” she asked sharply.

  “Surely you’ve heard of His Majesty’s challenge?”

  Oh, that. “You mean his contest to choose which of you will rule after him?” Ellie had thought it one of the more ridiculous things she’d ever heard. Who actually did that sort of thing outside of stories? But it wasn’t her kingdom, so she supposed it didn’t matter what she thought.

  “Yes.” Dauntry heaved a sigh that conveyed such theatrical despair, it ought to have cracked the cobbles under his feet. “I had not realized my weaknesses and failures were so great that my father would be forced to take such measures, but I am determined to improve myself and show that I am able to live up to his expectations. I am willing to make whatever sacrifices he requires in order to fulfill my duty to this kingdom.”

  Ellie sidestepped again. “I see,” she said blankly. She didn’t see, but what else could one say in the face of such overwhelming dejection? “I’m very sorry for your pain, Your Highness, but what exactly does this have to do with me?”

  “The king has tasked us with finding a particular piece of cloth,” Dauntry informed her. “A silk, so fine a bolt of it can be drawn through my mother’s wedding band, so strong it can support the weight of a man, and so light, it can be balanced on a scale with my father’s signet ring.”

  Elisette’s eyebrows shot up. Why would the king ask for that? “Is this a joke you’re making at my expense?” she demanded.

  Dauntry’s shoulders squared and a look of reproach crossed his handsome features. “I would never joke about such serious matters,” he informed her.

  “I beg your pardon,” Ellie murmured, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Clearly she was in the presence of a man who took himself very seriously indeed.

  “And I beg yours, Miss Elisette. I spoke in anger.” Dauntry bowed his head in evident contrition.

  Beginning to wonder if he would ever get to the point, Ellie prompted him again. “And what is it then that you are asking of me?” She thought she knew, but didn’t want to speak up too quickly.

  “I thought, perhaps,” Dauntry began, wearing an expression that might almost be guilt, “that you might know the answer to this riddle my father has posed. You found my brot
her’s book, which the other apprentices swore did not exist. It seemed possible that you might know of a record of such a cloth, what it is called, and where I must go to find it.”

  Ellie’s jaw tensed, and her fingers twisted around a handful of her robes. “You want me to help you win the challenge.”

  “As I said,” Dauntry admitted, “I had not yet determined to my satisfaction whether my honor would remain unstained should you prove successful.”

  So he wanted to ask, but he was convinced it would be cheating.

  With a surge of heartfelt relief, Elisette spotted the library looming up ahead. “Your Highness,” she said, dropping another curtsey, “I would be glad to aid you in whatever way you determine to be in alignment with your noble and distinguished principles. Until you’ve settled this question to your satisfaction, however, it seems there is little I can do. Also, I am very near to being late. Please feel free to present your request to me at any future time. Goodbye.”

  Not wanting to give the befuddled prince any opportunity to reply, she turned and dashed up the walk, pushed open the door and darted inside before he could waylay her with another effusion of words.

  Sadly, her timing was miserably off. No sooner had she closed the door with a little more than her usual force, brushed off her robes and looked up, than she encountered the censorious gazes of Farrel, Dewey, and Lady Caro, who stood in a neat line in the foyer.

  Evidently, they’d been waiting for her.

  “I thought I made it clear that you were not to be a distraction,” Lady Caro said coolly, once she and Elisette were seated in her office.

  “I beg your pardon, Lady Caro,” Ellie said between clenched teeth. “I was not aware that at any time I had deliberately set out to distract anyone. I have given nothing but my best and never made any attempt to draw attention to myself.”

  “Then how do you explain the sudden influx of visitors to our library? Visitors who make no pretense to scholarship, but wander about leaving books on the floor as they make absurd and ill-considered attempts to catch your eye?”

  “I can’t explain, Lady Caro,” Elisette replied stiffly. “But surely you can see how that could have nothing whatsoever to do with my actions.”

  “And then I hear from Farrel that this has extended so far as to attract the notice of their Royal Highnesses?”

  “I had nothing to do with that, either,” Ellie insisted. “I never met them before they came here.”

  “Then how do you explain your arrival this morning in the company of Prince Dauntry?” Lady Caro enquired coldly. “How am I to trust your word when it appears that, contrary to your assurances, the two of you are quite well acquainted?”

  Ellie’s jaw dropped. “What? I never… He ran into me in the market and practically ordered me to walk with him. What was I supposed to do? Say no to the royal heir?”

  “You may save your protests, Miss Elisette.” Lady Caro was clearly in no mood to listen. “Farrel has kept me well informed of your progress, and has relayed to me the complaints of the other apprentices about your performance. While I am aware that jealousy has motivated many of these complaints, and that most of them are likely unjustified or fabricated, the fact remains that your presence here has thrown the order of my library into utter chaos. I have even received protests from visiting scholars, proclaiming that it is no longer the peaceful haven for study that they expect when they have travelled such long distances to utilize its resources.”

  “What would you have me do?” Ellie pleaded, unable to believe the injustice of the accusations. “I cannot change my face. I cannot control the actions of others. I have worked hard, and given the best of myself to this library.”

  “I am sure you have,” Lady Caro replied, “and yet, the chaos that I predicted in the beginning has come about. While I am sorry for your difficulties, my utmost priority is maintaining the sanctity and the accessibility of this library. I do not approve of injustice, but I’m afraid I must look to the greater good.”

  “Then you’re sacking me.” Elisette’s heart was as hollow as her voice.

  “I’m giving you three days to find a way to change the situation. Otherwise, I’m very much afraid I will no longer be able to offer you an apprenticeship.”

  On the inside, Ellie raged against the unfairness of the edict, even as she regretted the ruin of her opinion of a woman she’d once naively believed could be a mentor. But Lady Caro, as forward thinking as she might be, was not the person Elisette had hoped.

  It wasn’t enough to simply disapprove of injustice. You had to do something. Which meant that as badly as Ellie wanted to hold her head up and walk away, she couldn’t. Other girls deserved the chance to read and study and be library apprentices if they chose. If no one was brave enough to pave the way, those dreams might never come true.

  “Thank you, Lady Caro, for giving me extra time,” Elisette said, forcing a pleasant expression and nodding to show that she understood. “I will do everything in my power to change this before the three days are up.”

  “I trust that you will,” Lady Caro replied, returning her gaze to the papers on her desk, making it clear that she was finished with the conversation.

  Ellie rose and moved to the door, pulling it open quickly enough that she startled the pair of apprentices she’d known would be eavesdropping from the hallway.

  “Nelson, Dewey,” she said, with exquisite false politeness, “fancy meeting you here,” and then swept by them with her chin up.

  She would not cry. She would not.

  But once she reached the dusty room at the back of the library where the binding supplies were kept, she did.

  Hot, angry tears rolled down her cheeks as she mourned the death of her optimism, her ambitions, and her naiveté. She’d expected it to be hard, but not like this.

  If she truly wanted to stay, there was only one option left. It wasn’t even a guarantee, just a wild hope, a desperate action she’d sworn never, ever to attempt. But what choice did she have? What other road was left open to her?

  In the corner of the dark, cluttered room, Elisette closed her eyes, folded her hands and recalled the words she’d been taught. They stuck in her throat, and her heart fluttered with nerves, but there was no other way.

  “Oh great fairy godfather Mortimer,” she intoned, nearly choking on the incantation. “I, a foolish human, humbly request your magnificent and awe-inspiring magic.”

  For a moment, the dust went undisturbed, and Ellie was almost relieved. This might be the only option, but that didn’t mean it was a good one. When she was convinced the summoning had failed, she began to turn away, but was stopped by the harsh sound of a crack. She stepped back just in time, as the air in front of her split apart to spat out the rumpled, disgruntled, shaggy-haired, gray-robed form of her least favorite being in all the kingdoms.

  Her fairy godfather. Mortimer.

  Ellie hadn’t seen him in years. She’d spent a large part of her youth feeling slightly petrified that he might attempt to drop some other unwanted magical gift on her, as if stunning beauty hadn’t ruined her life enough.

  “What do you want, brat?” Mortimer snarled, with his usual sunny good humor. “And why can’t any of you lot seem to say the incantation properly?”

  He appeared to have been working late, as his graying hair stood on end and the bags under his bloodshot eyes seemed to go on for days. His robes were even rattier and more stained than the last time she’d seen him, so perhaps his research had not been going well.

  “I’ll have you know you interrupted me in the middle of an experimental spell, so by the time I’m able to return, my entire home could be in shambles, and you’ll be to blame.”

  “Then perhaps it will be for the better if you listen to my request quickly,” Elisette snapped.

  “What, then?” he barked impatiently. “What is it with you woodcutters, never being satisfied with the magic I’ve so lavishly bestowed?”

  “Magic we didn’t want,” Ellie
shot back heatedly. “You never stop to ask whether your gifts have anything to do with what we need, you just give what’s easiest for you and leave us to deal with the consequences.”

  Even Mortimer was shocked into silence.

  “You gave me and Martin the gift of beauty, which has done nothing but complicate our lives from the very start. And now, it’s about to ruin my one chance to follow my dream and become a scholar, just because I can’t get a moment’s peace from men who don’t know anything about me—they just want to admire my face or hate me for being smart in spite of it.”

  Mortimer drew himself up. “Am I to understand, brat, that you are rejecting my gift? That in your pathetic human ingratitude, you would prefer to be… ugly?”

  “Yes!” Elisette cried. “All I want is to be left alone, and that will never happen as long as I’m stuck with this face. No one will ever see me or know me. I’d rather be thought ugly on the outside if it means even one person can see who I am on the inside.”

  Her fairy godfather glared, his absurdly tiny wings fluttering wildly while glowing with iridescent light.

  “Fine,” he snapped. “I’ve had enough of your ingratitude. Except for the bean girl, the lot of you do nothing but complain, complain, complain, and even she never properly appreciated my gift. So I’ll give you what you want, and don’t even think about whining to me later, because I won’t be listening. I’ll give you ugliness, and you’ll be stuck with it, until you learn to be grateful for what you have.”

  He waved a hand, and Ellie’s world turned inside out.

  There were sparks, and then shadows, and the room seemed to spin and grow alarmingly.

  She closed her eyes and waited for it to be over, almost unable to believe that Mortimer had actually done as she’d asked. He’d taken her beauty! She would be free of her accursed gift, free to live her life without being noticed for anything but what she was able to accomplish.