Allerleirauh

by Chantal Gadoury

  25

  “Y ou will be my bride. Aurelia.”

  My father held onto me tightly, forcing himself upon me. His sweaty arms and hands were everywhere above me. His lips dragged over my neck, pressed against my cheek, my breast and I couldn’t run away. My body was frozen into place and I couldn’t move. Flames lapped the room, encircling my father’s darkened form; his corpse. Perhaps that’s all he and I were – corpses, lost in a palace that had perished years ago with my mother.

  “No matter where you go, I shall find you,” he promised. “No matter where you go, I shall find you. I will find you . . . Allerleirauh.”

  * * *

  I JOLTED at the sound of my new name, emerging from the nightmare. I sat up from the window seat and glanced around the blue-walled room. I was alone and the sun had shifted, casting light on the other side of the room. I must have slept much of the late morning and early afternoon away.

  To my relief, the König—my father—was not there.

  My breathing was heavy as I swung my feet to the floor and closed my eyes to calm myself, repeating in my mind: He’s not here. He’s not here . . .

  Only when I opened my eyes, I noticed the sound of rustling skirts coming from the main bedroom. Pushing myself up to stand, I made my way to the door and gently cracked it open to find Adelais folding clean linens on the bed. Her grey eyes lifted to meet mine at the sound of the door. She blinked at me with a gross curiosity.

  “Have you been sleeping all this time?” She asked as she placed her work down on the bed. Her hands found their way to her hips again.

  “Yes, I think so . . .” I murmured as I held the cloak tightly around myself.

  “I brought you lunch earlier, but when I came to find it cold I thought perhaps you were out in the gardens. I expected the prince to have invited you—”

  “He did. I declined the invitation.”

  Adelais let out a soft puff of breath and shook her head.

  “Being cooped up all day indoors is no good,” she mumbled and glanced at me. “You should be thankful I brought things for you to eat.”

  I watched as she turned, leaving her tasks and moved towards one of the side tables. She lifted a silver plate cover from the tray she brought. I saw the twisted, salted bread again and wrinkled my nose.

  “I brought Brezel and a few different sides to eat with it,” Adelais said as she frowned at me. “The prince enjoys honey with his Brezel,” she continued. “Some enjoy the sweet mustard and honey, while my favorite,” she lifted a small plate to show me, “. . .is cinnamon.”

  Adelais gestured for me with her chin to come and take one from the plate. I felt it might be interpreted as rude if I resisted, so I carefully gathered the fabric of my cloak and walked towards the table. The selection of different sides was all set on separate plates, all for my choosing. I lifted one of the salted bread rolls and dipped it into one of the plates with mustard seed and honey and brought it to my lips.

  “Try the cinnamon,” Adelais said with a small laugh as she watched me wrinkle my nose.

  I chewed and swallowed the sweet-tasting bread and did as she suggested. The cinnamon was a new flavor I’d never tasted before, but quite liked. Imported. Exotic. It was sweeter and nearly dissolved on my tongue. Lastly, I tried the small plate of plain honey—the one the prince enjoyed the most. I found I preferred that one as well.

  “Have you never had Brezel?” Adelais asked as she turned back to her linen pile.

  I shook my head as I bit into another piece, enjoying the sweet taste.

  “And you came from where, exactly?”

  “Tränen,” I said softly between bites. Adelais nodded with a small laugh.

  “I suppose that explains it then. Tränen is known for their meats and potatoes. Many townsfolk living there are uncultured swine in my opinion.”

  I knew she intended for her words to cut me, but I nodded silently. I glanced at the plate of breads and lifted it in offering to her. I would have done the same if Adelais were Myriah.

  “Would you like one, madam?” I asked softly.

  “I would prefer to have one without any chance of hair on it,” she said, lifting her nose in the air. “So being that you’re entirely covered in nothing but fur, I’ll have to decline.”

  “Suit yourself,” I said curtly and took another from the plate.

  “Why do you wear such a hideous thing?” She finally asked as she tucked the linen into the armoire in the corner of the room. “You must know how . . . strange you look.”

  I tried to search for an explanation I felt comfortable expressing to her.

  “Many of us think you must be disfigured,” Adelais continued and eyed me carefully. “Or that you’re hiding from something or someone.”

  “You all will think what you must,” I replied coldly. I lowered the twisted bread back onto the tray.

  “We care for our prince here,” Adelais said. “And we care about our lands, and the people who live here. People who have nothing to hide, hide nothing. But you . . .” She flitted her hand at me. “You hide much. And that gives us reason to question you and your intentions.”

  “I mean no harm,” I whispered. “Truly.”

  “Why do you wear this then, hmmm?” Adelais touched a bit of the fur and I froze in place. “What are you hiding?”

  Could I trust this woman? Could I trust someone who seemed to dislike me?

  “I have a feeling you’re hiding something from me, miss. And I’ll find out one way or another. I always do,” she sniffed.

  I watched as she grabbed the tray from the table.

  “I’m running away,” I blurted before I could stop myself. “I’m running away from something—someone.”

  Adelais paused and lowered the tray back to the table.

  “Go on . . .”

  “Go on?” I asked, confused. “I answered your question. I wear the cloak because I’m in hiding.”

  “Hiding from whom?” She asked, crossing her arms. “Does the prince need to be informed? Are you in some kind of danger?”

  “No,” I nearly shouted as I shook my head quickly. “No, the prince doesn’t need to know about this at all. Please!” A sob nearly escaped from my lips. As I looked into her eyes, I could see her face soften.

  “Who are you hiding from? You can tell me,” she said softly.

  Adelais reached out and touched my shoulder. Her touch was surprisingly calming and comforting. I could feel a surge of tears gather as my chin trembled. The contact of her hand upon my shoulder reminded me of the comfort Myriah brought to me. I suddenly missed her even more than I could fathom.

  “I—I . . . I can’t . . .” I gasped and shook my head. “I have lost too much.”

  I pressed my palms to my wet cheeks. Adelais’s eyes glistened with concern. She took a few steps towards me, but I didn’t move. Before I could react to stop her, Adelais carefully eased the wolf’s head back, revealing my golden hair. I quickly tugged it back into place and stepped away from her with a low growl.

  I had never reacted in such a way before. It was almost as if the cloak transformed the princess I once was, into a beast. The growl vibrated in my chest as I glared at Adelais, crouching away. My heart hammered and echoed in my ears, while my arms and hands trembled. I was raised to stand poised and be graceful, and yet that façade—that fallacy crumbled around me now. The girl I was gave way to the safety of something darker.

  “What are you hiding from?” Adelais asked again. “I don’t understand why it is you’re hiding underneath that hideous cloak of yours!”

  I tucked myself into the nearest corner, keeping the layers of furs around me. I felt betrayed and humiliated by her actions. She exposed a bit of myself I was not willing to share yet.

  “You’ll never understand,” I hissed angrily. “Get out!”

  “You won’t talk to me like that,” Adelais snapped her fingers and gestured back to the bed.

  “Get out!” I managed again, doing what I could t
o keep the hot sting of tears from escaping before she could see.

  “You’re a strange creature,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief.

  I could see defeat written on her features . . . for now. Something told me she’d be back later to try again. She grabbed the tray hastily and went to the door, only glancing back at me with heat in her stare.

  “The prince will wish for your company at dinner. I see you will not be in need of my help,” she added as she slammed the door behind her.

  The tears I’d held in became harder and harder to resist. I slid against the wall until I was sitting on the marble floor. Myriah would have known what to say. She would have told me what to do. Without her, I felt so lost. Who was I to them? To myself? Who could I ever be again after Tränen and my father? Too many silent questions filled my mind as I rested my chin against my knees and began to give into my sadness.

  26

  I became bored in the room, not knowing what to do with myself. I stared out over the gardens many times and explored a few of the drawers of the armoire. Many of them contained folded linens or undergarments. There were no hidden jewels or objects to gaze and fantasize over. The few books I found in the blue adjoining room were mostly atlases and history texts. Many of which were written in languages I didn’t understand. While their illustrations were creatively crafted, I craved the old fairy tales from my library back home.

  Tucking my hood in place, I abandoned my room to wander the well-lit hallways. Despite the sun slowly sinking into darkness, the open windows cast brilliant rays of gold into the corridor.

  At each door, I paused to see which ones were locked. Many of the open rooms were empty, with large four-poster beds and ancient looking tapestries on the walls. But none of them were nearly as beautiful as the one the prince assigned to me. But I admired the wall hangings and their strange and beautiful scenes stitched into the fabric.

  Another door opened to a small set of stairs, illuminated by a large window ahead. I turned into the tiny space and traveled down the steps to find the other side led to the kitchens. I kept tucked in the shadows, watching as servants readied for the approaching dinner time. The walls were the same white marble, making the kitchen seem warmer and larger than the kitchens in my father’s castle, which were carved into dingy, gray stone. Many of the servants were smiling with each other as they busied with their chores. A few women were cutting carrots, while some of the men gathered around a large fireplace, turning the selection of meats.

  I retreated up the stairs and decided to continue with the rest of my exploration of the castle.

  At the next door, I found a large library. The walls were a soft yellow, much like my own room, and a large fireplace stood on the far-right side. Beside it was several shelves, all piled with mountains of books. Two oversized red chairs sat near either side of the hearth. They looked quite comfortable—an invitation to sit and read leisurely.

  I took a step into the room, my eyes darting from shelf to shelf. The number of books astonished me. It was easy to imagine myself sitting in the dark blue hues of evening in front of a warm fire and reading without a care, like I used to. Perhaps I would return later after everyone went to bed.

  Just as I was about to turn to leave, Prince Klaus startled me in the doorway. His eyes were wide with surprise and he gave me a nod. Hesitantly, I did the best I could with a bow.

  “I hope I wasn’t interrupting,” he said as his glance grazed over me.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have come here.” I tilted my chin down. I remembered how the servants and courtiers acted around my father and me; they were hardly permitted to look us in the eye without a gesture of consent.

  “No, please,” he said with a hint of a smile in his tone. “You may go anywhere you wish in the palace. You are my guest.”

  I shifted uncomfortably as I continued to gaze down at the floor.

  “Do you like books?” he asked as he walked over to one of the nearest shelves.

  “Yes,” I replied softly.

  “Who taught you to read?” he asked surprised, his brow lifting curiously.

  “Myr—my friend.” My voice waivered and I turned to glance at him from over my shoulder. I knew how unusual it was for a commoner to know how to read. Only the very lucky had ever learned such a luxury. Perhaps my answer should have been different. Would he believe a common friend had taught me such a lesson?

  “And your friend? How did she learn?”

  “Her father, I suppose,” I said with a shrug, biting down on my inner cheek.

  “You’re lucky,” the prince said with another smile. “How fortunate for you. Not many get to enjoy the escape books can provide.”

  I knew there was truth in his remark, and simply nodded again.

  “Is there anything you’d like to borrow?” he asked, gesturing to the other books on the shelves. I could feel my cheeks begin to burn as I shook my head quickly.

  “No, I couldn’t possibly . . .”

  “I wouldn’t mind,” he said as his green eyes met mine. “Please feel free to read as many as you like. I wouldn’t want you to waste such a talent.”

  I watched as he continued to study me in wonder. I jerked my chin and looked away.

  “I’ll return to my room now,” I murmured and began to bow just as Klaus lifted his hand to stop me.

  “I wish you wouldn’t leave just yet,” he admitted. “I’d like to get to know who you are, things that you like. . . your life.” His eyes twinkled. “You can trust me.”

  I did my best to hold back my scoff. I would never trust a man again. I could never trust a person who had the ability to hurt me the same way my father had. Least of all, could I ever trust a strange man, in a strange place, and without Myriah?

  “You know where I come from,” I replied with a sigh. “And I’ve told you all I have to share.”

  “I find that quite hard to believe,” he said as he pushed a hand to his hip. “It is my duty to serve those who cannot or will not serve or help themselves. Allow me the chance to help you.”

  “You have given me enough help already,” I said. “You have given me a place to rest, food to eat—”

  “Allow me the chance to do more,” he said softly.

  I could feel my heart beating wildly in my ears as I shook my head. I could never allow that. I couldn’t ever allow the prince to know anything more about me, in fear of him finding out the truth.

  “I do not wish for anything more,” I replied. Remaining quiet, Klaus stared into my eyes. I took a step toward the door.

  “I thank you for your kindness,” I continued. “I shall see you at dinner.”

  “Yes, please see that you do,” he replied curtly. “I’ll continue to wait until you’re ready.”

  I knew the meaning behind his words. I understood he wished to help me. But I knew there was nothing he could do. There was nothing to be done for the crimes I committed.

  With a nod, a small shiver ran down the length of me as I turned and left the library.

  27

  To Adelais’s astonishment, I arrived to dinner on time.

  To Lord Crestwood’s amusement, I was still dressed in my fur cloak.

  I saw the surprise and pleasure in Prince Klaus’s eyes as I came into the dining room. Candles lined the long table until they reached the place settings before the three of us. As I walked to my seat, I was sure to keep my chin low; shielding my eyes with my hood.

  “The wild girl has come to dine with us,” Lord Crestwood said with a smirk as he and Prince Klaus rose from their chairs. One of the nearby servants pulled the chair aside for me to sit.

  “Be kind,” Klaus warned.

  “I know, I know,” Crestwood growled in an undertone.

  I counted the many choices on the table. On one large plate rested a roasted duck surrounded by exotic citrus and basil leaves. On another, there was an assortment of small pies with fillings unknown. There were other plates of vegetab
les and fruits in carefully designed arrangements. Large loafs of bread sat in bowls near dishes of freshly churned butter shaped into yellow roses. Prince Klaus filled his goblet with wine from a nearby pitcher.

  “Would you care for some?” he offered, gesturing to my own goblet in front of me.

  I found it odd that he served himself. Was it not the task of the servants to fulfill this role?

  “Thank you,” I replied softly.

  “It’s diluted wine, so it’s not very strong,” he assured me as he lifted my goblet and filled it. Lord Crestwood gestured to the pies beside him and wrinkled his nose.

  “I’m almost sure these are those horrible fish pies,” he murmured. From underneath the wolf’s pelt, I could see his gaze on me as he shook his head. “I suggest you stay away from them.”

  Prince Klaus snorted and chuckled as he served himself from a nearby dish.

  “You’re the only one who detests them,” he teased and grinned at me. “It seems Crestwood does not enjoy anything that comes from the river.”

  “Hardly. I enjoy my venison and wild boar much better.”

  “A hunting snob,” Klaus said with a laugh.

  “It seems I’ve been outdone though.” Lord Crestwood lifted his knife in gesture to me. I felt my cheeks warm as I tugged my cloak more tightly around me.

  “You have hundreds of pelts.”

  “Thousands,” I teased softly.

  “There must be a story behind this . . . thing.” His fingers wiggled as he reached to touch it. I leaned away. Keeping my head low, I bit the bottom of my lip.

  “Where did you get such a cloak?” Lord Crestwood asked, taking in no notice of my discomfort from his surprise outreach.

  “It was a gift,” I replied simply and lifted my goblet to my lips, taking a long gulp of the sweet wine. I told myself to let go, to act like the wild animal they thought me to be. It mattered not where I placed my hands or goblet. It didn’t even matter if droplets of wine dribbled down onto my cloak.