by Anna Sheehan
‘Will,’ she said. ‘Call me Will.’
He smiled, easily. He had a nice smile. ‘Will.’ He took her hand and kissed it gently. ‘I had a sister,’ he said. ‘We spent many hours together before Father shut the door on me.’
‘Why did he do that?’ Will had heard the official story about his dragon slaying, but hadn’t heard much about him otherwise. He still held her hand. Will found it distracting.
‘A prophecy that I’d come to more if I was banished from the kingdom. Scant evidence for disowning your youngest son, but inheritance was difficult. I had two brothers, and Victoria needed a portion of land and a title as her dowry.’ He made a small, sad sound in his throat. ‘I miss having a sister.’
‘I didn’t,’ Will muttered.
Ferdinand laughed. ‘I suppose you don’t get to be queen, now,’ he said. ‘That must be frustrating.’
‘What?’ Why was he laughing, Will wondered, if he thought she was ambitious and jealous? ‘Oh, no, keep the kingdom, I honestly don’t want it. Please. Take it off my hands.’
He cocked his head, like a bird. There was something Will found quite birdlike about Ferdinand, something hawkish, like his white falcon, which was currently perched atop the back of the Queen’s throne. He rarely went anywhere without the thing. He said it was known to talk, and gave him advice as he battled the dragon. His horse, hound and hawk were magical of origin, that much was obvious, but Will suspected whatever magic they had possessed was spent in the course of winning Lavender. ‘You don’t want to be a queen?’
‘I never wanted to be queen,’ Will said. ‘I barely like being a princess. But look at her!’ She gestured to her sister, who was dancing prettily with their nine-year-old cousin Narvi. Will frowned at her supposed betrothed. She wished their engagement could be thrown by the wayside. He was too young for her. ‘The whole country went into mourning when she disappeared. Have you been hearing what they’re saying? They all thank the gods they won’t have this hulking beast of a princess as the heir. Lavender’s perfect.’ Will sighed. ‘I wish she’d just develop a flaw or two. Or that I wasn’t …’ She gestured down at herself, protruding awkwardly from her ill-fitting dress. ‘Me.’
Ferdinand placed his warm hand on her shoulder, sympathetic. ‘I felt the same way about my brothers,’ he said. ‘They were both taller and stronger than I, better at the sword, better with the lance. And yet, they never had a chance to use their skills. You don’t have to be better than everyone else. You only have to be good enough.’
Will eyed him. ‘Who are you quoting?’
He grinned. ‘Prince Ferdinand of Illaria. He’s a very wise philosopher.’
She laughed.
‘You have a nice laugh, Will.’
Will’s laugh caught, and she blushed.
‘I hear you’re interested in magic.’
Will looked about, to see if anyone was listening. ‘That is something of a family secret, you know.’
‘Yes, so Lavi tells me. She warned me not to bandy that knowledge about. Why?’
Will shook her head. ‘Magic is somewhat frowned upon in Lyndaria. It’s caused so much mischief. Until recently there’s been an out and out ban on witches. The laws have gotten more lenient, but it’s still not considered, as it were, couth.’
‘I’m not sure I approve of that,’ Ferdinand said. ‘There were all kinds of magicians in Illaria. And I owe my happiness to faerie gifts. Without magic, I would never have rescued my Lavender.’
‘I agree,’ Will said. ‘But that didn’t stop a century of Hiedelen law which made it illegal. It’s hard on magic users. Particularly the faeries. So many of the clans have emigrated out of Lyndaria, and I think that weakens us. When my mother was born there were thirteen faerie clans, most with at least a half dozen members. A representative of each of them were present for her christening. It’s why she’s such a fine queen.’
‘What happened to them all?’
‘Well, during the interregnum one of the clans was condemned, made Nameless and disbanded. Eight clans left Lyndaria for more magic-welcoming kingdoms, two clans died out, and one, the Winnowinn clan, retreated to a fastness in the highest northern mountains. I’ve met a few of them. They’re pale and icy. Their glacier is what feeds the Frien, you know, so we’re very respectful of them. They don’t like to talk much. The last one, the Caital clan, was reduced to only a single member, Mistress Cait herself. It’s rumoured she lives deep in the enchanted forest. Since she’s supposedly the one who enchanted it, that kind of isn’t surprising.’
‘Have you ever met her?’
‘Not so as I would remember. Technically, Mistress Cait is my godmother. Both mine and Lavender’s. I’m told she was at my christening, but I haven’t seen her since. She was the one who saved Mother’s life when the thirteenth faerie gifted her with the virtue of Death. Cait gifted her with Life, and the two virtues clashed and created the hundred year Death in Life of the interregnum.’ Will frowned. ‘It all comes back to the interregnum. Hiedelen’s hold on us, the kingdom’s poverty, why everyone distrusts magic.’
‘So, then, why do you … indulge?’
‘It’s a bit hard to explain,’ Will said. ‘You see Lavi, right?’
He turned his gaze back to her. She was dancing gracefully with King Ragi, who was at least keeping up. She was dressed in swan white with lavender trim, and her autumn coloured hair caught the torchlight. Will was annoyed to see that it glowed as brightly as the flames. Ferdinand’s face softened a bit as he looked at her. ‘Yes.’
‘Well, she got most of my mother’s virtues. The useful ones, anyway.’
‘Virtues?’
‘Yes. When Mother was christened she received eleven virtues from the representatives of the faerie clans which had been invited.’ She ticked them off on her fingers. It was a well known litany. ‘Beauty, Wisdom, Kindness, Generosity, Patience, Wit, Bravery, Honesty, Mercy, Nobility and Grace.’
Ferdinand blinked. ‘You have that memorized?’
Will frowned. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’
‘Lavi couldn’t get through more than five.’
Will laughed. ‘I’m not surprised. Let me guess, Beauty, Kindness, Patience, Grace and Nobility.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because those are the ones we know she’s got,’ Will said. ‘I’m left with Honesty and Wit, which tends to annoy people, Bravery, which is useless in a princess, and Mercy, which pretty much makes me feel guilty for being a princess in the first place, without the kindness which enables me to want to do anything about it.’
‘Perhaps you were also gifted with the Wisdom to know you can’t,’ Ferdinand said. ‘I can give my last crust of bread to a starving beggar woman, and have. That doesn’t mean she won’t be starving again tomorrow.’ He frowned. ‘Who got Generosity?’
‘Probably her,’ Will said ruefully. ‘But Mother raised us both with a sense of altruism, so it’s hard to tell.’ She pointed at her costume again. ‘You’ll notice this dress isn’t silk. Fine linen, but not silk. We don’t waste taxes on frivolities. We feed our people, instead. We are not a wealthy kingdom. The interregnum raped our land, and most of our wealth ended up in Hiedelen. Half that dragon money you brought us is probably going to go to healers guilds and orphanages.’
Ferdinand laughed again. ‘Why didn’t you mention Wisdom?’
Will shrugged.
‘Could you have grown your own virtue?’ he asked.
‘What?’
‘Modesty.’
Will blushed again. ‘What makes you think I’m wise?’
‘Because I know Lavi. She’s clever enough, but she’s silly. She’s delightful, but I wouldn’t call her wise. Unlike you.’
Will had never really been given a compliment before. Not on anything that ever mattered. Whether someone told her that her dress looked nice or that she’d done a good job at her riding lesson had never mattered to her. But to have a handsome, charming prince approach her and call her both W
ise and Modest did strange things to her insides. ‘Thank you,’ Will said, and her voice came out very soft.
‘So how does that lead you to magic?’
Will shrugged, and tried to find her voice in amongst the billows of feathers which seemed to be choking her. ‘Not much else to do. Besides, maybe—’ She bit her tongue.
‘Maybe what?’
‘Maybe … once I’ve learned enough … I could change people’s minds. Our ban on magic leaves us vulnerable to another kingdom with military mages.’ She shivered. She was ashamed to realize it probably had more to do with Ferdinand’s hand on her shoulder than it had to do with fear at a non-specific potential threat. ‘Maybe I could make a difference there. Maybe there’ll be something I can do to make things better here. Besides trip over my feet at dances like this and dutifully marry my young cousin.’
‘You’ll find something,’ Ferdinand told her, with an air of certainty. ‘You’ll do something amazing with your life.’
‘Why do you say that?’ It actually came out as a whisper, and Will hated herself for it.
‘Because I did,’ he said. ‘I think I was more like you. Youngest son, didn’t really seem cut out for much. And look at me. Lyndaria’s hero, wealthy on dragon’s gold, betrothed to the most wonderful princess any man could ask for.’ He flashed that beaming, charming smile at her again, and her heart throbbed, melting all over her stomach. ‘You’ll find what you’re meant for, Will. I have faith. Each virtue went where it was needed the most.’ He held his hand out to her. ‘Would you care to dance?’
Will shook her head. ‘I didn’t get Grace.’
He laughed. Will found she wanted to make him laugh. She liked hearing him laugh. He sounded like a mother hawk chuckling to her chicks. ‘I’ll lead,’ he said. ‘Grace is supposed to be my job. All you have to do is let yourself follow me.’
Will found her hand reaching for his, and he led her out to the dance floor. And he was right. With his strong hand on her waist, his sure feet guiding her, the gentle pressure of his fingers warning her when the steps changed, she was as graceful as her mother, who was twirling like a snowflake across the ballroom with King Ragi. Will stared into Ferdinand’s ice blue eyes, and saw herself reflected there. And for once she wasn’t horrified by what she saw. Though she was an inch taller even than him, he carried himself with such nobility that they didn’t look out of place together. Her hair like winter leaves and her eyes like a glowering sky didn’t seem so plain when she stood with him. With Prince Ferdinand guiding her around the dance floor, Will felt as if she’d earned the virtues of Beauty and Grace and Nobility.
And when the dance was over he bowed regally, kissed Will’s hand, and went back to her sister, taking Beauty, Grace, Nobility – and Will’s heart – with him.
Will was shuddering as she made her way to her chambers. She shouted at her chambermaid (not granted the virtue of Kindness) ripped off her ill-fitting party dress and dropped it on the floor, (not gifted with the virtue of Patience) flung herself onto her bed and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried.
It was awful. It was stupid. It was dangerous. She was deeply, desperately in love. In love with her sister’s betrothed. Her perfect, beautiful, flawless sister. It was hopeless. It was wrong. It was cruel, to Will, to Lavender, to Ferdinand. Will had only one choice, and that was to swallow the huge lump of unrequited love, force it deep down inside, and bury it there until it died, or it killed her.
So Will did the only thing she could do. She buried herself in her studies. She avoided Lavender and Ferdinand as much as possible. She avoided her mother and father. She avoided the courtiers. She avoided everyone. She reread every magic book she had, hoping she’d somehow missed a spell to make someone fall out of love. She was half afraid she’d actually find it. If she did, she wasn’t sure who she would use it on – herself, or on Ferdinand. If she could make him fall out of love with Lavender, could Will make him fall in love with herself? Could she cast such a spell on Lavender, cause her to reject him? No. That would have been wrong. Whenever her thoughts reached that height she was hit by Mercy again (which was a virtue she frequently wished would simply go away) and she knew she could never do such a thing.
It didn’t matter. She never did find such a spell.
Once Will had fallen in love with Ferdinand she tried to think of nothing but her magic. Which was why she had to escape the palace secretly. A princess of Lyndaria couldn’t be permitted to go into the city alone, and certainly couldn’t be seen buying books on magic. Which meant she had to wear father’s clothes, hide her hair, and sneak through the secret passage and past the thorn hedge.
Trying to practise magic without a teacher was exhausting. It involved a lot of trial and error. Most of the time when Will recited a spell or brewed a potion nothing happened at all. Sometimes the wrong things happened. Sometimes very wrong things happened, such as the time Will had inadvertently summoned a demon. She had been lucky in that it had been a night demon, and she was able to keep it busy with riddles until dawn, but that had been a close one.
The spell Will used for subduing the thorns didn’t always work. It was, if one could describe a spell as such, temperamental. Ideally it was supposed to bend the thorns from her, as if she was a hot fire they needed to pull away from. Usually the best she could do was keep them still, and keep them from actively seeking to pierce her flesh. Sometimes all it did was slow them down, and sometimes it did nothing at all. And sometimes, (rarely, but often enough to aggravate her,) it seemed to anger the briars, and make them come at her even more violently than usual.
So. Which would it be today? Will took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and recited the spell.
For everything that grows and every leaf
That hangs upon the climbing vine or tree
with sweet flower, wondrous belief,
That my poor will can overpower thee
For I am nature’s strength, her arm and hand
That can, for beauty’s sake, for wonders great
That binds the fruitful bounty of the land,
And so becomes the instrument of fate.
Ah, that was good. It was going to work today. The winter thorns parted, leaving her a small window from her palatial prison. Will carried her cloak rather than try to wear it through the briars. She tensed up her muscles, waited until the thorns looked peaceful, and started to run.
They closed behind her as they always did, but her spell made them slower than usual. She could almost hear them growling as they grew and grabbed, trying to catch her in their coils, hungry for her royal blood. She leapt the last few steps in one bound and landed rolling, holding her cloak against her face to protect it from the dirt.
She took a deep breath once she’d made it. Now that she was out of the briars’ reach they seemed to mutter in disappointment and then settle back down into false dormancy. ‘Until next time,’ Will said with a slight bow to her adversary. The briars never bowed back, but sometimes, she felt as if they’d heard her.
Will knew she was mad, but she almost liked the violent briars. Not the sort of secret she could tell anyone, though. ‘I don’t know how anyone could stand to live here!’ visiting nobles always said. At least until they saw the palace in summer.
Rose Palace was considered the most beautiful castle in the seven kingdoms. The tamer roses climbed the walls, framed the arches and lined the paths, only swaying prettily when people passed by, wafting their scent into the air. Even the predatory hedge, which had completely overrun the East Wing and which they could not seem to tame, was stunning for three seasons of the year. The roses grew in a subtle rainbow, no two colours clashing. Will always thought that evil faerie must have had a brilliant sense of colour, for all the artistic arrangement of her roses.
In the spring, summer and autumn Rose Palace was permeated with the scent of roses. People claimed that it was like an ocean of scent, and if the wind was right the fragrances of the many roses could be carried for miles
into the country, causing farmers amidst their pigstys to suddenly lift their noses into the air and inhale deeply. As the spring roses faded and the summer roses took their place, showers of petals fell to earth. The palace employed special teams, with long poles to keep the thorns at bay, who collected those petals. They were used for perfumes and sachets which were sold all over the seven kingdoms. It was Lyndaria’s most profitable export.
Those who lived in the palace did not need buy those perfumes; the scent permeated the very walls. Even in the dead of winter, to walk into Rose Palace was like walking into a garden. The courtiers’ clothes always smelled as if they had been washed in rose water – which in truth, they might as well have been. The heavy tapestries exuded a constant scent. In the summer months, those who lived in Rose Palace could tell where people had been by the scent they carried with them. A subtle sweetness? They’d just been near the receiving hall. A spicy tang? They’d been ambling near the queen’s chambers. A savour of fruity musk? Must have been consulting in the kitchens.
In the winter it was not so overpowering, but the scent of roses never really faded. Once people visited Rose Palace, they believed they understood why the royal family never left it, despite the deadly, predatory thorns. They forgot to take into account Lyndaria’s inherent poverty. The interregnum was not kind to the kingdom. It was hoped that Lavender’s marriage to the wealthy Ferdinand would help with that. Will hoped they wouldn’t leave their seat at Rose Palace, regardless. Her albeit limited control over the briars gave her a sense of self. She didn’t have much control over what else went on in her life.
Not that she could control the briars very well. Most spells she couldn’t do, anyway. She had no formal magical training. There were no more official magicians living in Lyndaria, not openly. Will had never even met any magicians, unless you counted the faeries, and it wasn’t really fair to count them. Faeries were in a class by themselves.
No one recognized Will as she walked through the town to the booksellers. No one ever did – her face was not as well known as her sister’s, and no one expected to see a princess in that part of town. Madame Paline’s book shop was the worst book shop in the city. It held penny dreadfuls and ancient warped door stopper books which would be better turned to papier mâché than read. Her tomes were worm-eaten and weather-beaten and dusty and musty and often profane. Which was why Will could occasionally find books on magic there. Any used magic books which found their way to the more reputable booksellers were usually burned unceremoniously.
