The King's Daughters

by Nathalie Mallet

  Rising to my feet, I began a thorough inspection of the cell. I was determined to examine every speck on the ground, every scratch on the walls—everything.

  Eva joined me by the cot at the back of the cell. "Amir, what are you doing?"

  "Shhh . . . " I made, while dusting a suspect spot on the wall.

  "Don't shush me! Tell me what's going on instead." By the firmness of her tone, I knew Eva would not give up until she learned the aim of my search. She could be very headstrong at times. Of all her flaws, that one was probably my favorite.

  I smiled. "Listen. The guard mentioned that Isabo became entranced only after she was brought here, therefore there must be something in this cell that set it off."

  The look of confusion plastered on Eva's face told me that she didn't truly grasp the workings of magic. So I explained in more specific details. "Spells can be set like traps, across doorsteps and thresholds and—" I rushed to the gate and began inspecting every single bar it possessed until my hands were red with rust. I found nothing on the bars. Well, there were quantities of scratches on them but no tingling, no strange sensation whatsoever. So it wasn't the gate after all. Still, it had to be near the entrance. I searched the nearby surroundings for some minute clues I might have previously missed and came up with none. Besides the loaf of bread and the bowl of water, with its raindrop decoration, there was nothing here.

  "Amir, come see this," called Eva.

  I was surprised to see that Eva wasn't at my side anymore. I looked around and found her once more kneeling in front of Isabo. Eva gently lifted one of Isabo's hands. "Look at this, Amir. Look at her nails."

  Actually, Isabo had almost no nails left; they were all broken and worn down to the quick.

  "How fast do spells usually work?" asked Eva.

  "No idea."

  "Can someone fight a spell?"

  I stared at Isabo. "Maybe if that person has some knowledge of magic."

  Eva stood up and surveyed the cell. "If I was thrown in here, my first impulse would be to hide in a corner." She pointed to the right. "That dark one!"

  We both walked to the somber corner and began inspecting it. A small dark line at the bottom of the wall caught my eye. I bent down and after a careful examination saw that it was part of a drawing. Half of it was etched in the stone. The other half was drawn in blood. There seemed to be two separate designs. To me, the first drawing looked like a square with a circle beside it. The other one was made up of three undulating lines depicting water or waves with a stick figure above it.

  "Do you understand what these represent?" asked Eva.

  "Hard to tell what she meant by these."

  "Why not write instead?"

  I sighed. "I'm assuming that the spell was beginning to take effect and drawing might have been all she could do." I closed my eyes and tried picturing the scene. Isabo suddenly finds herself unable to speak. She knows she is being bewitched and panics. She tries to write, but her hand cannot form letters. So she draws what she can—quickly.

  I opened my eyes and stared back at the drawing. I noticed two very pale lines I didn't see before. They were sticking out from under the square . . . like legs. "Legs? Hmm, a square with legs. What about that circle beside it?" I rubbed my beard.

  "A lake," suggested Eva.

  "No. Doesn't look right. It looks more like a corral or a fenced enclosure—OH!" The answer suddenly came to me. I knew the meaning of that drawing. It was so simple! In my excitement, I seized Eva by the shoulders and pulled her toward me. "The square with the legs, I know what it is. I do! It's the Baba Yaga's house. The peasants told me that the Baba often stole children. She's the one who kidnapped your sisters. " I pointed at the drawing. "And that's where we need to go."

  Chapter

  Twenty-one

  Eva, why are we coming here?" I asked as we entered the conservatory. "The Baba lives in the woods. What we need are coats, not flowers."

  In a swirl of black taffeta and frilly petticoats, Eva faced me. "You're wrong, Amir. We do need flowers."

  That's it, I thought, grief has rendered her insane. "Flowers . . . really?"

  "Yes, flowers! For the Baba. As a gift for her."

  "Huh? Witches like flowers, I didn't know that."

  Eva cast me a stare so dark it made me wish I had kept my mouth shut. But as she stared at me I watched her frustration and anger wane and an apologetic smile make its way to her lips. "Forgive me, Amir. These last days have been trying for me. Lars's state and Father's urgency to remarry don't help the situation. I fear my nerves are a little frayed."

  "No need to worry, Eva. I understand. I heard that your father is going to propose to Countess Ivana. What do you think of it?"

  Eva shrugged. "It's a good choice. I'm glad he picked her; I just wish he'd wait a little longer before getting remarried. Mother hasn't been gone a week yet. . . . "

  Not finding anything to say on that subject, I just held her hand. "Now, can you explain to me why we need the flowers?"

  "First, I need to see if we actually have them." This being said, Eva dashed across the lush greenery of the conservatory.

  I followed without arguing. Soon we were leaving the jungle of exotic plants and entering the rose garden. Eva stopped at its edge and scanned the shrubs.

  I pointed to the bush on my left. "Those red ones are stunning. I'm sure she'll like them."

  Eva turned around. "No she won't! Worse, she'll kill us!"

  "But how can you be so sure of this?"

  "Amir, you must trust me on this. I know what I'm doing. I have known about the Baba since childhood. My nanny used to tell me stories about her." She paused and plucked one of the red roses I had shown her. Caressing the flower's velvety petal, Eva said, "As lovely as it is, this rose won't do, Amir. There's only one way of gaining the Baba Yaga's help, and that's by bringing her a blue rose. The legend says that she makes a rejuvenating tea out of its petals. It is also said that the Baba sometimes helps the kindhearted. So I thought that perhaps if I give her the roses, she'd release my sisters."

  I nodded, thinking that blue roses were like flying horses, they didn't really exist. Then again, I had seen the Baba's house . . . and a house with giant chicken legs shouldn't exist either. Feeling a tad more hopeful, I began combing through the garden for the elusive blue rose bush. After having been stabbed and scratched by thorns one too many times, I was on the verge of giving up when I spotted a peculiar colored blossom on my right.

  "Eva," I called. "Come see this one."

  She rushed to my side and crouched in front of the bush. "It's not blue." Her tone was heavy with disappointment. All right, the rose was pale lavender; still it was an odd and unusual color for a rose.

  Brushing back the lower branches of the shrub, I uncovered a small sign planted in the soil at the foot of the rose bush. BLUE LADY ROSE was written on it.

  Eva sighed. "I suppose we have no other option." Clipping the only three flowers that were in bloom on the bush, Eva then opened the glass box she had brought along and pinned the roses in the wet sea sponge inside it. Once the roses were safely tucked away in the box, she asked, "Amir, do you remember the road to the Baba's house?"

  "No. But I think I know how to find it."

  * * *

  Our next stop was at Master Auguste Ramblais's place, the alchemist's tower. While Eva talked with a flabbergasted Auguste—obviously he's never been visited by a princess before—I made good use of his telescope. Just as I had expected, I didn't see the house. However, I spotted a clearing in the forest with a thin plume of chimney smoke rising from its center. After taking notes of the diverse reference points visible, I felt confident that I could find the place again without too much difficulty. Next thing I knew, we were outside trotting toward the forest on horseback.

  Well, finding my way to the Baba's house proved slightly more complicated than I had anticipated. Twice, I led us in the wrong direction. And when I finally oriented myself properly and we began making
progress, the snowdrift became so deep and the forest so heavily treed that we were forced to leave the horses behind. So it was on foot that we neared the clearing where the Baba lived.

  "There's the house." I pointed to the log cabin peeking in and out of sight through the trees. "Let's run."

  Eva gripped the hem of my coat, holding me back. "No, Amir. We cannot barge in on her like that. We must be respectful. There are rules to follow."

  "She's a witch and possibly a kidnapper. I don't see why we should respect her at all."

  "Please, Amir, for my sisters' sake let's proceed my way."

  After a long period of brooding silence, I agreed to her demand . . . reluctantly though.

  On Eva's order, we made our way toward the front of the house and approached it slowly, following a long, narrow alley. I scrutinized the two skulls atop the house, and, sure enough, the moment we stepped onto the alley, their black empty eye sockets glowed with an ominous red light.

  Holding the glass box in plain view in front of her, Eva soldiered on bravely. She looked so stoical in her mourning clothes; her hair simply braided and pinned around her head. At that instant, my love for her was deeper than ever.

  Pacing my steps to hers, I walked proudly at her side. Movement at the foundation level of the house caught my eye. One of the giant claws, the only part of the chicken legs now visible, had moved. That worried me because if the house rushed us all of a sudden, I doubted there would be enough time for us to move out of its way—not from this short of a distance. Look away. There is nothing you can do now, so look away.

  I focused on the house's door. Painted a deep forest green, it stood out against the pale wood logs that made up the rest of the house. As I was staring at it, the green door silently opened.

  My body reacted by tensing up.

  Beside me, Eva swallowed hard. Yet, without missing a step, she moved on toward the opened door. Well, I thought, it seemed like this time the Baba was home.

  Side by side, we climbed the steps leading up to the door and entered the witch's house.

  * * *

  The welcoming warmth and pleasant glow of the fireplace bathed the entire room.

  Immediately I saw the cauldron of brew boiling over the fireplace. I swiftly diverted my gaze from it, fearing that its sight might bring back some horrible visions. It was then that I noticed the woman seated in the wooden rocking chair in the corner of the room.

  She was busy knitting while gently rocking herself back and forth. This woman, which I knew couldn't be anyone else but the Baba, wasn't old—middle-aged was my guess—nor was she ugly. She had a sort of wholesome beauty that was simple and earthy. With her shiny brown braids streaked with a hint of gray, round rosy cheeks, and warm brown eyes, their corners marked with tiny crow's-feet, she reminded me of Kathia, Dimitry's wife. To me, she was the kind of women that perfectly embodied motherhood and was the salt of the earth. Not at all the portrait I had in mind for a witch. She looked nothing like the monstrous hag with stony teeth described by the peasants, either.

  While her fingers continued moving the blue yarn around her knitting needles with a sharp click, click, click, her attention slowly rose from her work, and she made eye contact with me.

  Goose bumps rose all along my spine.

  "Greetings, Prince Amir. If I'm not mistaken, you've been in my home before." Her voice was a velvety alto as soft and as rich as Kathia's pudding. Her alert eyes moved to Eva standing just beside me. "Princess Eva, you are always welcome in my home. Very few people know how to properly approach my steps, and rarer still are those who know to bring the proper offering."

  Eva squeezed the box against her coat. "Good Baba, I'm afraid my roses might not be of the right shade."

  From the comfort of her chair, the Baba smiled kindly. "Don't be afraid my child. Yours and Prince Amir's hearts are good. I know you've meant well by coming here. Now come closer and show me those roses."

  We obeyed and approached the rocking Baba.

  With trembling hands, Eva extended the glass box forward.

  Upon seeing the roses kept inside, my eyes widened in disbelief. They weren't lavender anymore, but sky blue. They changed color, that's not possible. Unless it was the unusual warm glow of this room that made them look this color. I couldn't tell.

  The Baba let her knitting needles drop beside her chair, took the box, and opened it. Plucking out one of the roses, she brought it to her nose. "Mmm," she gave, breathing in the strong tea scent emanating from the rose. "They are perfect. See, you've worried for nothing."

  I watched the tension that had captured Eva's body release its hold on her. Her shoulders relaxed, and she sighed in relief.

  The Baba twirled the rose between her fingers. "You know the rule, Princess. Ask."

  "My sisters. I want my sisters back. I know they're here!"

  The Baba nodded. "Clever! You found a way of asking without wasting a question." She paused, and I noted that a profound sadness now marked her face. "My poor dear child, your sisters are indeed in my care. However, I doubt you'll want them back at your side in their present state."

  Eva stepped up. "Why did you steal them in the first place? Why?"

  The Baba arose from her rocking chair and, with a gesture meaning for us to follow her, she walked into the adjacent bedroom. "Look," she said, indicating the window.

  I remembered that window, it opened to her enclosure. In the morning sun, I could now see the mouth of the cave clearly. A huge brown bear lay in front of it. I spotted another one roaming on the east side of the cave, and the movements in the nearby shrubs were probably caused by a third bear.

  Eva turned away from the window and glared at the Baba. "Why are you showing me these bears? This is not what I've asked you."

  The Baba looked at me. "You understand but she doesn't." She shook her head. "To answer your questions, Princess, I didn't steal your sisters. It is true that I do steal children who trespass on my ground. But I have never invaded anybody's home to steal their children, or transformed anyone into bears. And I'm showing you these bears because they are your sisters."

  "What!" Eva's gaze returned to the animals in the enclosure. "Those aren't my sisters. One of those bears attacked us. They killed that rabid beast, so it cannot be true." She faced the Baba again. "I refuse to believe this. It's a lie. It's not true."

  "Princess, you know I cannot lie. These are the rules," said the Baba.

  Eva aimed pleading eyes toward me. "Amir, say it isn't true."

  "I'm so sorry, Eva. It's the truth; these bears are your sisters. They are victims of an enchantment."

  Eva let out a whimper; fat tears began rolling down her cheeks. I tried taking her in my arms. At first, she fought back my embrace, then she became limp and I was able to close my arms around her and rock her gently.

  Burying her face in the crease of my neck, Eva sobbed softly. "Noo, noo, noo" she lamented, as reality set in. "The bear that attacked us, the one that was killed—Oh, this means . . . OH NO!" she cried. "Which one . . . which one of my sisters died?"

  Tightening my grip around her shoulders, I whispered in her ear, "Thalia. It was Thalia."

  Eva cried loudly. I had never seen her this distraught before. It was literally tearing me apart inside to see her this way. Worse yet, there was nothing I could do to fix this, absolutely nothing. I hated being this helpless.

  Eva turned teary, desperate eyes to the Baba. "Can you free them? Can you break the spell?"

  "If it were mine, yes. But as I have nothing to do with it, I cannot. Only the person responsible for their enchantment holds the key to break it."

  "Who has done this then?"

  "Ah-ah-ah!" The Baba wagged a finger at Eva. "Three roses, three questions. You know the rules."

  "Pleeease, oh please," begged Eva.

  "Princess, breaking this rule will endanger my life. I will cease to exist. We magical beings are bound to live by strict rules. Very few of us can break them without paying a terribl
e price. I'm sorry, Princess. I cannot answer any more questions. However, if you're willing to stay a little longer, I can tell you a story."

  We agreed and followed the Baba to the front room. Once we were back in its warm bright light, I saw that our host wasn't the vibrant middle-aged woman who had welcomed us at our arrival. Old, bent, and wrinkled, the Baba was now an elderly woman with slow and painful movements.

  "Time for my rose infusion," she said in a crackling voice.

  I watched her take one rose, pluck out its petals with bony-knuckled fingers, and drop them in a teapot. Then she poured steaming hot water on top of it. A strong rose-tea aroma embalmed the entire room. At the same time a wave of tingling traveled through my entire body, starting down at my feet and ending at the roots of my hair. I found this sensation oddly pleasant, not at all like the brutal jolt of energy I often felt when dealing with magic. This feeling was as light and as delicate as the caress of a feather on one's skin. Intrigued, I questioned why her magic felt so different to me. As I gazed at the Baba's cozy interior, the answer became clear in my mind. White magic! That's why it feels so . . . so soft, so benign.

  I looked up at the Baba and gasped. She was young again—well, middle-aged. For the space of an instant, I was submerged by memories of my father, of his last days, of how the curse placed on him had made him grow old quickly, then young again. These were bad memories saturated with feelings of failure, sorrow and helplessness.

  As I struggled to get rid of these emotions, the Baba quietly sipped her rose infusion while observing me with great interest. Lowering the small wooden bowl serving her as a cup, she addressed me: "Prince Amir, I'm sorry. If I had known that witnessing my change of appearance would convey such painful thoughts to you, I would've been more careful."

  Stunned, I stiffened. Had she read my mind?

  "No, I read your expression." She smiled. "I've promised you a story. Now it's time for me to tell it to you."