by J. Conrad
“I cannot,” Eiriana said. She stood for a moment, casting a distant gaze at the straw-covered floor. “For all my magic I can’t change the past. I cannot change the pact I made, which was a terrible decision born out of desperation. And I can’t excuse my absence in your life. But I can help you here and now as I promised. We must get you ready, while there is still time.”
“I hate you!” I screamed. “I hate you more than anyone on Edim! I wish I’d never met you.”
Eiriana ignored me, turning and making a shrill, whistling sound toward the other end of the barn that opened to the paddock. Our two brown horses trotted into the stable, pricking their ears at the Fae woman. “I think white will do very nicely.” She waved her hand, and before my eyes the horses’ chestnut coats turned snowy white.
I crossed my arms and glared at her, shaking. She wasn’t going to pull this crap. She wasn’t going to pop in with her charm as though the last eleven years never happened—not to mention the last few months, the worst of my life. Eiriana had some answering up to do and her magic didn’t impress me right now.
“Why did you make me come back here? Why?”
“Had you been elsewhere during the fox hunt yesterday, Trystan wouldn’t have seen you again. He’d been secretly arranging to leave and would have been absent from the ball tonight. Instead, he is in Hennion Castle now, waiting for you,” Eiriana said.
I frowned, trying to understand how anything about our meeting yesterday could have made a difference. He seemed bitter before he had ridden off, as if what I had confided ruined everything. I wondered what could have changed since then.
“And you’ll need a carriage of course. Come, child,” Eiriana said. With the horses trotting after her of their own accord, she left the barn and headed toward the winter garden with her head held high. Upon her countenance was the hint of a smile, her brows relaxed as though nothing extraordinary were happening at all.
I clenched my fists and trudged after her in nothing but my underthings and a man’s work coat. “The way you’re acting so calm, as though the last two weeks never even happened is unacceptable,” I said. I glared at the back of her silver coif, wishing I could provoke a reaction. She slowed down and let me come up alongside her, the white horses tagging along at our backs.
“Elin, believe me, I’ve thought of you more than you know. But I’m not always free to do whatever I wish,” she said.
I huffed, my mouth falling open in exasperation. My breath turned to mist. “Oh! You’re not always free to do whatever you wish? I’m sorry! Were you locked in an attic? Or perhaps a witch paralyzed you and set your feet on fire? Or maybe you were starved and then kicked against the wall?”
Eiriana turned her head slightly, picking up the pace as we neared the garden. “I know, dear. I know how that monster treated you. I wish your father—” She glanced at the ground.
“You wish what? That my father wouldn’t have died? Well it so happens that he lives, in fact, and he thinks I’m a liar. Wait, no—he thinks I’m still a liar, just on a grander scale now,” I said. The wind bit into my cheeks, and I realized they were wet again.
“That isn’t what I was going to say,” Eiriana said. “Though I’m thankful that he lives. I was going to say, I wish your father would have done things differently. That’s all.”
“But even though he thinks wrongly of me… some of this isn’t his fault. He didn’t know what Gwyneth is. How could he with all her magic? And I learned the reason he didn’t believe I saw the great wolf was that most humans cannot see Draugosero,” I said. I heard an odd edge to my voice, almost a whine. I wondered where it came from.
Eiriana stopped, taking me gently by the arm. She looked into my eyes as I scowled at her. “Elin, I know many things of which you’re probably not aware that I know. You deeply distrust your father because you were so hurt by him. He betrayed you. Maybe no one else knows this, but I know it, because I’ve lived long enough to see the faults in others that are invisible to the young. But I also know you have a great desire to be wrong about it all, to find out that your father didn’t betray you after all, that it wasn’t really true. Tell me, when he decided to marry Gwyneth Urien, do you truly believe he couldn’t see what was under the surface, or only that he didn’t wish to see?”
My stomach lurched, and I tugged my arm away from her. The nerve of this woman, saying these things after all I had gone through. After I found out she made her own child a prisoner. And after providing me with so little information about it all. But the reasonable side of me, who resided just beneath the surface of my anger, knew she was right. And not only was she right, but she was exactly right, as though she’d read the words straight off the scroll of my subconscious.
“It doesn’t mean he’s a bad person,” Eiriana said, seeing that her speech had turned me wooden. “It doesn’t mean he intends to hurt you, or that he doesn’t love you. It’s simply a dreadful fault about him, this blindness. Some people choose not to see. And it just is. That is the truth.”
I breathed deeply, feeling the cold air fill my lungs as the tears on my face began to dry. Or had they just frozen? I wasn’t sure. Nodding, I said, “You’re right, Grandmother.”
The Fae woman’s face softened, and she grinned. She wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “I promise you, Elin, when you’re safely married to Prince Tarian, we will spend some time together and I’ll tell you everything. But tonight, let’s concentrate on making you a lady worthy of any prince.”
I let my face break into a smile, a tight feeling in my cheeks telling me that yes, my tears had frozen there. “All right,” I said.
“Very good. Now then, just try to relax. We’ll have you off to the ball shortly.”
I held up the lantern, hoping it was letting off enough light for Eiriana to find whatever she was looking for. As she surveyed the wiry vines, rotted pumpkins and a few squash and melons of the winter garden, I stood back and watched. She weaved between the rows, her cloak dragging against the dry leaves. “This one will do,” she said, and with a wave of her hand, a dented, withered pumpkin began to glow.
The light was faint at first, a pale yellow-orange that began deep within the pith. Quickly the brightness grew, consuming the pumpkin which increased in girth. The fruit became whole again, new and ripe, as it gained size exponentially. With its green vines writhing about beside it, I backed up as the giant gourd swallowed up a large tract of the winter garden. It was as large as a wagon. Realizing I had been holding my breath, I exhaled to watch the pumpkin morph into something else. Elongating slightly, soon it was not a squash at all, but a golden carriage with fine wheels, delicately wrought of metal vines and leaves.
Our white horses, who had been patiently standing nearby in the snow, stepped in front of the carriage. Eiriana waved her hand again. She caused harnesses, bridles, and reins to appear and in another moment the horses were hitched to the carriage. With heads held high, they pawed restlessly, awaiting the command to draw.
In the lantern light and Eiriana’s own ethereal glow, she scooped up a field mouse with a current of air. Tossing the small creature high, she made another motion with her hand and when the mouse’s feet touched the ground again, he was no mouse. A man with nut brown hair in a vest, trousers, and winter overcoat stood in the magic luminescence, blinking at Eiriana.
Giving the consternated rodent-turned-human a knowing smile, Eiriana said, “You will drive the carriage, my good man. Once Elin no longer has need of your services, you shall return to the form which nature has given you.” Straightening, and tugging on his coat, the young man climbed into the driver’s seat. He picked up the reins and waited.
“A noble lady also needs a footman,” Eiriana said, and repeated the process with a possum. This man, who had grey hair and a thin face, took his place near the carriage door. He regarded the two of us with small, dark eyes.
“And now for you, Elin. What was your gown like, before those harpies ruined it?”
“It was a g
olden dress, one of my mother’s. The rats helped me turn it into a ball gown. Enchanted rats which a raven brought me,” I said, biting my lip as I thought of all their magic and labor, wasted.
Eiriana nodded. “Gold, you say? Well, I’m sure it was splendid. How do you feel about something in blue?”
“I’m sure blue will suit me fine,” I said. I didn’t add that someone in my position would be daft to quibble over the color. Placing the lantern on the ground, I stood with my arms at my sides.
Eiriana held up her right hand and a crackle of energy whisked the coat off my back. The frigid draft of air hit my torso and bare arms and I winced. But as the ethereal glow from Eiriana’s magic whirled around me like glittering snowflakes, a warmth made its way into my limbs. My grandmother flung snow, leaves, and winter berries into the air, swirling them around me in a funnel which flowed so quickly I could no longer see her. Looking down, I saw the dress materialize. The bodice was covered in tiny, shimmering sequins. The full skirt, a cerulean blue, was overlaid with silvery-white netting that sparkled like moonlight on the sea.
Despite the fact that I had lain on the stone floor sobbing less than an hour go, I laughed. The joyful feeling consumed me, and the horrors of the day melted away to nothingness. Standing there smiling, I reached down and touched the incredible fabric. It was so immaculately woven it didn’t seem real. It made me feel like a little girl again, when I had tried on Mother’s dresses and pretended to be a princess. I started to turn in a circle. Spinning, I watched the skirt flair out, the netting and sequins glowing in the otherworldly radiance of Eiriana’s magic.
“I can’t believe it,” I said, bringing myself to a standstill again. When I stopped, a warm, thick shawl blanketed my shoulders. Made of a fabric I had never seen, it was velvety and had a silver sheen like the netting. “It’s so beautiful, Grandmother. I don’t have the proper words. Thank you.”
Eiriana smiled. “Of course, child. But we’re not done yet. Hold out your foot.”
Lifting the hem slightly, I poked a foot out from under the gown. I had worn my white court shoes to go with the golden dress. Although they were formal, next to this gown they may as well have been stable clogs. Taking a bit of snow in her hand, Eiriana tossed it on my shoes in a spray of silver light.
Holding the skirt hem higher, I tilted my foot bearing my grandmother’s newest creation. Eiriana had given me delicately crafted high heels. As the shoe caught the light, it reminded me of the chandelier which used to hang in the hallway—before Gwyneth replaced it with one of iron. Like a prism, the glass itself had no hue, but reflected all colors.
“Glass?” I asked. “Why? Are they safe?”
My grandmother laughed. “Yes, they’re quite safe. And you are correct. They are glass, but not merely so. These are special. They shall help you to dance; to move as a royal lady moves, with grace.”
I took a few steps again, feeling that the heels were sturdy beneath me and didn’t teeter.
“And of course, we mustn’t forget this,” Eiriana said. From a pouch at her side, she drew out a small corsage. I recognized the flowers instantly—white roses and lavender.
“Are those from Gwyneth’s wedding bouquet?” I asked.
“Yes. I’m quite against letting magic go to waste, especially when I see an opportunity turn a Calek’s own spells against her.” She smiled mischievously, pinning the corsage to the bodice of my gown. “Your stepmother and her daughters won’t be able to recognize you now, even up close. So, you see, even Gwyneth’s smelly flowers serve a purpose in the end. Although, I’ve taken the liberty of de-scenting them for you.”
I laughed. “I appreciate that.” With the clock ticking, I thought I should get in the carriage now, when I remembered how I’d had no time to put makeup on before. Wondering how my face and hair must look, especially after my ordeal with my stepmother, I reached up to touch my head.
“I’ve taken care of that,” Eiriana said. I could feel small clips on the sides and curls in the back.
“And my face?” I asked.
“Your face was lovely as it was, but I put a little color in your cheeks,” Eiriana said, and with a crooked grin added, “and maybe a tad on your lips too.”
“Thank you,” I said, completely unable to stop smiling. “Grandmother, Trystan told me Lysidia was charged with bringing the chosen Fae girl and presenting her to him. If I’m truly the one, then I’ve always assumed that this Lysidia was you, called by another name. Are you going to accompany me?”
Eiriana was silent a moment, blinking and looking down thoughtfully. I remembered the Wolf Queen telling me that Fae are strange folk who often do not reveal themselves or the nature of their agreements.
“No, you must journey to the castle alone. But I can assure you that you’ll have aid at the proper time.”
I inhaled and nodded. Whether she showed up tonight or not, I’d have to go and set things right with Trystan, or at least try. “Very well. Am I ready now?”
Eiriana’s bright blue eyes held a more stoic expression. “Almost. There is something you must know. This is a temporary magic, Elin. Nothing I’ve done here will harm anyone, but at the stroke of midnight the spell will be broken. Everything will revert to the way it was before. You would do well to be out of sight when that happens.”
I nodded. The thought of standing before the monarch and half the kingdom in nothing but my underthings was a pretty strong incentive to leave on time. But I couldn’t come back here. Where would I go? What would I do when the clock struck twelve?
There was no time to figure it out now. Walking carefully through the snow to the awaiting carriage, I felt like I was floating as the footman opened the door for me and I stepped inside. The interior was covered in deep blue satin with gold trim and metal fittings. My body sank into soft cushions. I turned to say goodbye to Eiriana.
“May you claim your prince, Elin, and have the life you deserve. Until we meet again,” she said. She held up a hand, the light from the lantern and her own ethereal glow illuminating her face. I stared back at my grandmother, putting my fingers to the window. The coach rolled forward gently, drawing me away into the night.
Chapter 23
The grey walls of Hennion Castle loomed over me as I took the long stairs to the main entrance. With a row of guards on either side of me, my stomach whirled like Eiriana’s fairy dust as I held up my gown and carefully chose my footing. Above the high parapets and turrets, the sky had cleared, and a full moon hung in the sky. The clock tower above the court yard read a quarter of nine.
I waited for someone to stop me, to ask who I was, but no one did. At the top of the stairs on the landing, two men in velvet waistcoats and long, black cloaks pulled open the great, wooden doors as I approached. I stepped inside and held my breath. Lively music was playing from a location I couldn’t discern right away. I could make out some of the instruments: a harp, a violin, and a flute at least, if not others I didn’t recognize. I noticed there were at least two levels in this section of the castle. People were dancing below me, with this floor being more like a balcony with four sets of curved stairs leading down.
A magnificent chandelier bearing probably a hundred candles hung from the center of the ceiling. Many more candles and a few torches were mounted on the walls, giving the room a bright, warm glow. I had never seen so many fine paintings, lavish purple curtains, or a polished, marble floor like this one. As I took a few more steps, a man behind a short table stopped me. He asked for my name and house, and I gave him both, watching as he noted them down in a book. The man nodded and gestured that I may proceed.
My heart was hammering as I thought about Gwyneth. Would I really be invisible to her? She was here somewhere, and if the corsage failed the night would be ruined. But this concern seemed like nothing when I thought of Trystan. My palms started to sweat. A lightheadedness threatened to make me faint and I could barely breath. I scanned the level on which I stood, seeing so many young women my age it was bizarre, al
most comical.
I didn’t see my stepmother, Annest or Dafina. There was no sign of Trystan either. They must be on the lower floor with the music and dancing. As I passed the other girls on the balcony, I smiled at them. In return, a few narrowed their eyes and turned their faces away. I wondered what it meant. I suppose with so many “eligible maidens” vying for the prince’s attention, even one more attendee made them nervous.
I reached the stairs and placed my sweaty palm on the railing to steady myself. With one hand to lift the hem of the gown, I began to make my descent. My knees were shaking, so I took each step slowly. My eyes swept over the dancers, scanning them. In the sea of swirling dresses of every color, I couldn’t spot Gwyneth and her daughters. They had to be here somewhere, and I would feel better as soon as I knew where that was, magic corsage or no.
I was almost to the ball room floor. There were the musicians, gathered on a dais on the opposite side. My face started to burn when I noticed that people were staring at me. Some of the women locked eyes on me and didn’t let go. Others turned away the moment they saw me. The men, some of whom I assumed to be members of the king’s court, stared with an intensity that made me uncomfortable. “Who is she?” I heard one of them ask. My heart hammered away like a jack rabbit and I swallowed. I stepped onto the polished, marble floor and clasped my hands. I needed to gather my thoughts. Now that I was here, I had no idea what to do.
Feeling the crimson linger on my cheeks, I let my eyes search every face and every cluster of socializers. Not everyone was dancing; many women and men alike were gathered near the walls or sitting on the divans, chatting and sipping their drinks. My eyes finally alighted on a tall, young man with sandy brown hair and my stomach plummeted. Trystan—“Prince Tarian” to everyone else. He was wearing a long, black, velvet waistcoat over a dark blue blouse. Some type of gold medals or insignia dangled near the pocket. The crest of the ruling family, or some other designating mark, I assumed.
