Allerleirauh
Page 27
“I wondered if I should expect you here tonight,” Klaus said with a kind grin and extended his hand out to me. “Or if I would have to seek you out myself.”
I let out a shaky laugh and took his hand with mine as I knelt beside him.
“Indeed not.”
“I had Adelais bring us some spiced chocolate,” Klaus gestured to the small arrangement on the floor. I took notice of the many blankets and pillows, all carefully placed to accommodate the both of us.
“Would you join me, meine schöne Frau?” He asked softly. I could not help the joyful flutter that filled my heart and stomach at his voice. Wife.
“Would you help me to do something,” I asked softly, glancing to him for approval. Klaus tilted his head and nodded, while his brow furrowed in curiosity.
“Of course, what do you wish to do?”
Several months had gone by since the time I last wore the fur cloak my father gifted to me. I knew I was ready to let go of my life in Tränen—all aspects of it. I did not want to live in the past, to always remember my father’s hands or his cursed words. With this knowledge, I no longer needed to hide myself as ‘Allerleirauh.’ I would never again need to hide beneath the coat of a thousand furs.
I turned back towards the door, where a servant was waiting with the fur cloak in their arms. With a grateful nod, I took the garment and dismissed them quietly. Klaus’s eyes gazed at the cloak with surprise and then slowly turned to me.
“What is it that you would like to do with this?”
“I would like to burn the cloak, Klaus. I don’t need it anymore. I have everything I could ever want with you. You’ve given me a new start, a new life. You . . .” I paused, biting my bottom lip as a wave of sadness and gratefulness flooded my heart. “You showed me a love I never thought possible. I know with you I shall never need to hide myself again.”
Klaus’s expression softened as he smiled. His hands carefully took the garment, raising it up between us as he looked at the cloak more closely. I remembered watching the hunters and servants bring in the pieces of fur by the window with Myriah. At the time, I feared my approaching fate. Little did I know the salvation I would find in Saarland der Licht with it, and the safety and friendship in the arms of the prince.
“If it’s what you’d truly wish,” he murmured as he lowered the cloak to the floor. “We can do this together.”
I knelt to the floor, sitting down beside him and the fireplace. As I lifted the fur cloak into my arms, I felt Klaus press a soft kiss against my temple. The heat of the fire warmed my arms as I leaned closer, slowly lifting the heavy fur towards the logs Klaus must have just placed before I entered the room.
“We are more. We see each other as we are, as we are meant to be seen. Not as what the world wishes us to be . . .” Klaus’s words from the day in the forest resounded in my mind.
I couldn’t stop myself from thinking of the first time at the lake with him; his charm and smile. Since the ball with my father and the reveal of my secret, Klaus only ever greeted me with love each morning and tended to me with the same, every night. He would indulge me with nights in the library, small private dinners, and laughter. I knew as I gazed upon my new husband, I would always love him; I would always be thankful for his understanding and kindness. With a squeeze of my eyelids, I tossed the bundle of furs onto the hot coals and watched as the flames licked and enveloped the cloak.
“You are more than what he’s done to you, love.”
My blue gaze drifted back to Klaus, who watched along beside me; his jaw clenched as if he were deep in thought. After a long moment of watching the coat disappear into piles of ashes, his green eyes met mine again. Klaus lifted my hand, turning my palm upwards where he kissed my skin gently.
“Ich liebe dich.” I love you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Chantal Gadoury is a 2011 graduate from Susquehanna University with a degree in Creative Writing. Since graduation, she has published three novels, “Seven Seeds of Summer,” “Allerleirauh,” and “The Songs in Our Hearts.” Writing has always come naturally to her, beginning at the early age of seven. Her love of writing evolved from a passion to read and document everything about her life in journals. (A Real-Life Harriett the Spy, without the Spying!) Chantal studied many genres of Creative Writing during her time at Susquehanna University, such as poetry, non-fiction, fiction, and ‘the novel.’ She became co-editor of an on-campus publication her senior year.
While Chantal is not pursuing writing avenues, she enjoys acrylic painting, watching Disney and romantic historical movies, and spending time with her family.
For more information:
www.chantalgadoury.com
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Where do I even begin? If anyone would have told me the journey “Allerleirauh” would take me on, I’m not sure I’d believe them. I certainly never imagined I’d ever have a second chance in bringing this fairytale to life. What began as a love for a cartoon I had once seen as a child, grew into something beyond my wildest dream. And to think this all began because my Dad bought me a VHS with the story of “Allerleirauh” (a kid’s version) on it. Years later, I’d attempt this story in a writing class in college, and dash a few more years on top of that, I had begun the first outline of this novel in a distant kitchen in Delaware.
My first thanks has to go to Shayne Leighton and Parliament House Press. Without you, this book would never be what it is today! Your dedication, passion, and understanding lifted not only “Allerleirauh,” but myself as well. You dusted us off and pushed us forward into something better. Shayne, thank you for all the Skype calls, your excitement and enthusiasm, and most of all – your friendship. I’m SO grateful to have met you in those distant days of the “Fantastic Twihards.” Thank you for everything. You are a role model for so many, and I’m honored and grateful each day that you took a chance on me. You have taught me a lot about what it means to be a writer and an editor; I can’t wait to continue the journey!
My second thanks has to go to my family. To my Mom, who is without a doubt – my best friend. I hope I’ve made you proud. Without you, I would have never developed a love for reading and writing. You inspire me each day, and I hope you know just how much I love, admire and treasure you. (Thanks for enduring and supporting me both on the good and hard days.) To my Dad, whom I so wish could be reading this. You know what’s in my heart. My heart is just another version of yours, and I’m so proud of that. I hope I’ve made you proud too. I miss you, love you, and wish you were here every day. To my sister – thank you for always supporting me. Thank you for those times in my car when we’d sit and just talk. I hope you know how much you mean to me, and how much I admire and look up to you. You are an amazing, beautiful woman; never forget that.
To all of my writing friends – both online and off -- who read this, who edited this, who endured coffee nights and questions – without you, “Allerleirauh” probably never would have existed.
Even to this day, I still think of all the teachers who shaped me into the person and the writer that I am. Mr. Henry, who was my chorus teacher from first grade to my senior year, a special thank you for always being that encouraging voice in my head. You taught me so much about the influences of music – and how it can truly inspire emotions deep inside of you. I’m not sure I’d be the kind of writer I am without that. To Ms. Pauza – who always pushed me to be the best version of myself, and to put real effort into my writing. Thank you for all that preparation for editing. (There are still times I cry over cutting out scenes.) To Professor Retief from Susquehanna, you gave me real direction and the
ability to find my voice when I was so unsure of myself, and what sort of writer I wanted to be.
And with that said, I’m left to thank everyone else. All the people in my life, from my church family to my high school classmates. David, Tearsa, Katie, Kate and Tiff . . . and so many more. Just, thank you.
Most importantly, it wouldn’t be right to not thank my readers. (Seriously, “my readers?” I never thought I’d ever say that in my life.) Thank you for taking this journey with me and Aurelia. I can’t wait to bring more characters and their stories to life. Until then. . .
Sincerely,
Chantal Gadoury
A SPECIAL SNEAK PEEK
Between the Sea & Stars
Coming June 19th, 2018
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ONE
“L ena!”
Javelin’s voice echoed through the currents of the Skagerrak Sea, startling Lena where she sat perched upon a mound of rocks, humming to herself.
She tilted her chin, careful not to disturb the large, colorful starfish grazing her fingertips. She narrowed her eyes on a blur in the distance—her older brother bursting through a school of speckled wrasses.
She’d expected him to return from the market hours ago. Even from afar, she could see his striking blue eyes and sandy-blonde hair. His arms were textured with powerful muscles, his skin flawless and pale. His gleaming silver tail launched him forward, muscles coiling like rope beneath his crescent-shaped scales.
“Lena! I had good luck scavenging!” he called. “I was the hit of the market!”
Lena combed a hand through her long, brown hair. The wayward strands reflected particles of gold and red in the sparkling water. She remembered the last time Javelin had announced a good day of trade. He’d found a newly sunken ship just beyond the coral walls, filled with strange rocks that glittered from the deep recesses of wooden barrels. That discovery had resulted in offers from nearly every vendor in the square.
“What did you find?” she called back, doing her best to conceal her curiosity even as her body straightened with excitement.
Javelin thrust his hand forward as he came to rest upon the rock beside her. With a grin, he uncurled his scaled fingers to reveal a shimmering pink shell on a chain made of delicate white kelp.
“It’s beautiful!” Lena exclaimed as he pressed it into her palm. She admired how perfectly it fit in her hand, and just how unique the color was compared to the troves of shells they’d collected over the years.
Javelin had a knack for scavenging and bartering. He’d made a name for himself in the market, selling the best trinkets to the highest bidders, while Lena spent her days hunting small crabs and unaware fish.
“I thought of you when I saw it,” he said, clearly amused by her balking. “Couldn’t bring myself to sell it.” He nudged her playfully with his shoulder, his blue eyes scanning the small bushel of crab in her lap. “Have you had much luck this morning?”
“Not nearly as much as I’d hoped,” Lena admitted, and bit her bottom lip. “What took you so long?”
Javelin picked up one of the crabs she’d collected and cracked the outer shell with a nearby rock. “Other than trying to make better trades than last time, I had a few admirers stop me.”
“Again?” Lena rolled her eyes. Merrow women were always fluttering their lashes at Javelin, flipping their hair and flicking their tails, hoping to catch his attention.
“They’ll move on eventually,” Javelin shrugged. “They always do.” With nimble fingers, he twisted the crab legs and tugged the meat free between his teeth.
Lena plucked one of the dangling legs from his palm. She twisted the shell between her fingers, releasing the tender flesh underneath. The crab meat was juicy, rich and full of salty flavor. Her stomach rumbled as it dissolved on her tongue. She swallowed and tore off another bite.
“It seems you’ve become an expert in the hunt,” Javelin grinned, licking his fingers and reaching after her catch. Lena swatted his hand away and began to push the small heap of crabs into a nearby sack.
“Save them for later, Javelin,” she sighed. “I want to show father. . .”
“There’s plenty,” he chuckled, rolling his eyes. “I did well in the market, so it seems we’ll both have good news to bring him.”
Lena pushed herself up from the rock and hovered over a small hole she had seemingly missed; another crab’s home. With quick fingers, she reached inside and grabbed for the creature, careful to avoid its large claws. She slid her small hunting knife into the crab’s belly and pushed it into the sack with the others.
“You’re getting better and better Lena.”
“You think so?” she said as she dropped her knife into the sack.
Javelin nodded. His eyes scanned the ocean floor quickly, then darted back to hers. A devilish grin twitched at the corner of his mouth.
“Race you back!” he winked and began to swim away before she could react.
“Aren’t we getting a little old for racing?” Lena shouted, shoving the sack’s handles over her shoulder. After all, she’d celebrated her eighteenth birthday a fortnight ago. A giggle tickled her throat as she scurried after him, her choppy breaths sending bubbles floating up, up, up toward a bright, sprawling light overhead—the sun.
Lena turned her violet gaze toward the surface. Envy and wonder swirled in her veins at the idea of basking in that warm, iridescent glow. In the early days of her childhood, before the death of the queen, merrows had breached the crested waves and gazed upon the human world from afar. Now, surfacing was strictly forbidden. Poseidon’s wrath awaited any merrows brave or foolish enough to disobey the king’s decree. The idea sent a shudder down her back, even as longing bloomed in her chest.
With a start, she realized she’d begun to swim skyward. She leveled her gaze on Javelin and pushed harder against the current, catching up with him at last.
“Took you long enough, little minnow,” Javelin smirked.
Lena narrowed her eyes. “I’m not a minnow,” she replied, wrinkling her nose at the pet name.
Javelin tilted his head back to laugh, slowing his pace. Lena tried to steady her heaving breaths as she found a comfortable rhythm beside him.
“What do you think it’s like up there?” she asked as her eyes darted back through the water. The glittering rays of the sun captivated her, only fueling her curiosity.
“We’ve talked about this so many times, Lena,” Javelin replied. “How many more times do we need to go over the rules put in place?”
“At least once more,” she begged. “Truly, what do you think it’s like?”
“I’ve already told you what I think, over and over and over again.”
“Tell me again,” she said softly, a playful smile bowing her lips.
Javelin raised an eyebrow at her. “Perhaps later.” He mussed her hair, sending her bucking out of arm’s length.
Ahead, their home came into view, darkened by the shadow of a nearby shipwreck. The weathered stone was a far cry from the sleek huts and shell-paved pavilions of Lena’s youth. After her mother’s untimely death, her father, Carrick, had moved the family into a deserted cavern near the small village of Sogen Hav, leagues from the capital city of Skagerrak.
He hovered now just beyond the threshold, awaiting their return. Age had stripped the sight from his eyes and whitened his hair. His faded, vermilion tail—once brightly red—swayed beneath him, matching the gentle current.
“Father will be happy to see these,” Javelin murmured, tapping Lena’s sack.
“What will I be happy to see?” Carrick bellowed as they slowed the rhythm of their swim. His unseeing, gray eyes darted blankly between them. His gnarled hand reached forward, searching for the familiar shape of his vanished children.
“I had quite a lucky morning, father,” Lena chirped, massaging her catch of crabs so the shells clacked together.
Carrick chuckled. “That you did, min pige.” My girl. “It seems you have your mother’s talent.”
“And you, Javelin?” Carrick’s gray gaze moved slowly, as if he were searching for his eldest child in the dark.
“I had quite a bit of luck as well,” Javelin smirked, and dropped his sack into his father’s hand.
Carrick shook out a few perfectly shaped pearls and two large ash-white sand dollars. His fingers paused on a smooth, round shard of obsidian. With a thumb, he traced its outer edge, inspecting the size.
“It’s lovely,” Lena murmured, mesmerized by the slick black glass. Obsidian was prized in the Skagerrak Sea, chiseled from the shark-infested coves near the underwater fire pits. Only the bravest merrows dared to retrieve it, and this shard was substantial. Javelin rarely brought home such a payment.
“You did well, my boy,” Carrick nodded. “The pearls will be easy to trade again if we need to.”
He slid the treasures back into Javelin’s satchel and tucked it away.
Lena clutched her hands in front of her navel. Her efforts paled in comparison to Javelin’s success. Her father shifted toward her, as if sensing her dampened spirits. He reached forward, his gentle fingers finding her shoulder first, then her cheek.
“Come, min pige.” He tilted his head toward the cavern as his hand trailed carefully over the wall, seeking guidance. “You’ve collected us a feast, and I look forward to enjoying it.”
TWO
Evening poured over the ocean like an octopus’s ink. Fish slipped between tall, swaying blades of grass or concealed themselves in the hollows of coral. Crabs burrowed beneath the sand, safe from Lena’s swift hand for another night. All was quiet and peaceful as a shadowy calm infused the sea.