While I tried to process what those words actually meant, what effect they would have, Divinia thrust Princess Salara into my arms and disappeared in a flash of light.
Salara. Salara of Salaria. She named the princess after the country. It would have been better to call her Vonda. Princess Vonda. Princess Salara. The whole thing seemed ridiculous, but everyone around me looked very serious.
I stared at the baby in my arms. She seemed all right. Her skin was clear, and her eyes were bright.
Impossibly bright. Like dark stars in a pale sky.
She opened her mouth and inhaled. I braced myself for a shriek. The sound that came out sounded like crying, but also like music. Everyone in the courtyard listened in rapt attention, and we all sighed in disappointment when it stopped.
Princess Salara had fallen asleep.
I handed her over to the head nursemaid. Queen Ingrid fluttered around, talking to herself and waving her hands, already planning art projects around her newly beautiful daughter.
King Nicholas just looked thoughtful. He bowed to me as he left.
I waved my hand, trying to sense anything out of place or unusual about the baby. She seemed normal, but I didn’t know much about medical magic.
Rosa might be able to help if I could convince her to come back to the palace. She didn’t get along well with the queen. Both of them were too opinionated. Too passionate about completely different things.
I wandered back to my studio, dazed. Queen Ingrid would want a new dress for tomorrow night’s dinner, perhaps something inspired by the fairy’s visit. I pulled out every green fabric I had and layered them on a dress form tailored to the queen.
I closed my eyes and pictured my family back in Castana. Father and Donna Senona, the day of their wedding. The memory made my stomach jolt slightly, and I locked on to that motion, pushing it until my soul circled around my body in a loop.
This gown would be tricky. I would need soul magic to recreate the waving, ephemeral fairy fabric. Using the magical energy from the loop, I adjusted the fabrics, making heavy ones more transparent. Something halfway between velvet and silk for the base. Organza for the top, but the color needed to be darker. When it looked right, I stopped my soul loop, pulled a small salt charm from a drawer, and pinned it to the skirt. The fabric rippled in the still evening air.
Ingrid would love it.
I rummaged through my shelves for gold trim. Would wings on the back of the gown be too much?
“Imitating my look? I’m flattered, Alma.”
Divinia stood beside the dress. I couldn’t help being proud. The gowns looked almost identical.
Then I felt horrified.
“What have you done?” I asked. “How does the spell work? Has she been harmed?”
“I have you to thank for all this, Alma. After all, you introduced me to Queen Ingrid.”
“You already have a godchild.”
I said it through gritted teeth, and his name hung unspoken between us. Divinia knew not to mention him. She wasn’t willing to push me that far.
And I wasn’t willing to ask.
“I have a godchild in Castana,” she said. “Salaria is completely different. This is a young country, Alma. They don’t have centuries of traditions to uphold. Can’t you feel the energy?”
“Fairies don’t interfere. You said it. Celia said it. Fairies don’t interfere.”
“And I won’t. Consider me out of your life now. Out of Salara’s life. Out of Salaria. I don’t expect to return anytime soon.”
“Good.”
I watched her. She wasn't finished. She would leave if she were finished.
“What?” I said.
“I was just wondering if you really want to give this up.”
She pulled the silver charm out of her skirt and dangled it in front of my face.
“It could do you some good, you know. Put it on, catch a ship to Castana…”
“Get out.”
“Very well. Goodbye, Alma. Any messages you’d like to send?”
“No.”
She shrugged.
“Suit yourself.”
Divinia disappeared in a flash of golden light.
I sank into a chair.
What had she done?
Alma and the Fairy Page 2
