by Jodi Lamm
I never set foot in your bedchamber. I merely told you to hear my voice, and you did, regardless of your location. I apologize if I lack propriety in speaking to nobility such as yourself. I’ll take you to the edge of the forest and I won’t trouble you further.
“I suppose that’s agreeable,” Maddy said, “though, I do wish I could see you.”
The voice heaved a miserable sigh. Miss Lavoie, you wouldn’t recognize me even if you could.
Maddy wondered whether the voice’s new courtesy was tainted with sarcasm or even a hint of regret. But before she came to a reasonable conclusion, it said, Now go to sleep, and she did, without any forewarning drowsiness or the dizzy feeling that comes before collapse. The universe simply faded away.
***
Maddy dreamed she was riding through the forest on the back of an enormous stag. And the longer she dreamed, the less she was able to distinguish herself from her mount. She felt the jolt of the stag’s movement in her own bones. She pressed her ear to its back and heard her breath match the animal’s heavy pant. Even her heart beat in time with the stag’s.
She considered how peaceful it would be to just let go and sink into the creature, but she didn’t want to be a stag. She didn’t want to be anything other than herself. So she fought the dream. She imagined her brother’s illustrations in place of the scenery around her. She recited his stories and sang his songs. She stopped running, pulled herself out of the stag’s body and sat up, breathless in her own, with the strangest sensation that part of her was not dreaming at all.
***
Wake up.
Maddy squinted in the light of morning, peeled herself from the ground, and groaned. She was covered in mud. Her mother had not taught her to present herself in such a wretched condition, but as Maddy lifted her eyes to see rooftops scattered in the horizon, she knew she had little choice. The voice had been true to its word. She had come to the edge of the forest and gazed out over a new world.
In the tall grass to her right, an enormous stag ate away at a sapling. “That’s odd,” she muttered, recalling her dream. The stag paused as though it were listening for her to say more, and then went back to its breakfast. Something about the majesty of the creature made her feel as though she were in the presence of a god.
Still on her hands and knees and no longer worried about the mud, Maddy crawled toward the stag. It did not start at her approach. It was larger than any hunting prize her brother brought home, with a mane of thick hair at its neck, in which she longed to bury her hands, just once. But as it munched away with a sprig hanging out the side of its mouth, Maddy smiled despite herself. It was just a stag, after all.
She laughed and pushed herself to her feet. The stag lifted its head at her movement.
“Don’t worry.” Maddy showed it both her palms in mock surrender. “I’m going.”
The rising sun sent a blaze of gold light into the city as Maddy drew closer to it. She had seen sketches of cities in her picture books, but never such a breathtaking, sprawling mass of life as this. People moved in the streets. Real people. She wiped her palms on her greatcoat, turned to reconsider hiding in the forest a few days longer, and froze. The stag had followed her. She took a new direction. It followed again. Even when she drew close enough to hear the city’s bustle and hum, the stag followed. She tried throwing sticks at it, but nothing frightened it.
In the streets, people stared at Maddy as though she were a troll or fugitive. She tried to meet their eyes, but each person looked away when they saw she was watching them. She could hardly blame them. She looked like a vagabond—a ratty girl in an oversized coat with a forest creature trailing her. She pulled out her writing book to explain herself to anyone who would be willing to give her a chance.
I am… Someone bumped her arm and sent her pen skittering over the page.
“Terribly sorry, good sir,” the gentleman said over his shoulder. He seemed in a hurry, but he stopped all the same when he saw her face. “Or… miss?”
Maddy suddenly wished she were back in her own room, safely tied to her bedposts. The gentleman tipped his hat and held out his hand. He towered over her, grinning as though he lived forever on the cusp of laughter. His dark curls were cropped short and he looked like he might have needed a shave for the last several days.
“Eh… Listen, doll,” said the man, withdrawing his hand when Maddy didn’t take it. His voice had a new tone now, one that made her think of her mother’s silk flowers: delightful, but entirely counterfeit. “I have one delivery left to make. But if you follow along, I promise to make amends for spoiling your storybook. You’ll let me make amends, won’t you?” His warm eyes entreated her in such a playful way that Maddy nodded in agreement before she even knew what she was doing. “That’s wonderful!” He smiled and Maddy smiled, too, beside herself with giddiness as the man offered her his arm. She found his vulgar familiarity instantly charming, though she would have corrected it in anyone else.
Behind them, the stag let out a low grumble.
“Say, do you always travel with that animal?” asked the man.
She shook her head.
“Ah well, it’s an odd pack animal around these parts, you know? People might think you’re some kind of woodsprite with a critter like that following you.” When Maddy didn’t respond, the man raised an eyebrow. “You’re not a woodsprite, are you?”
She smiled and shook her head again.
“That’s good. People who believe in woodsprites don’t tend to trust ‘em. Just so you know.” He winked. “I’m called William Taylor, by the way. Taylor because it’s my profession, not a family name, you understand. But I’ll be most pleased to hear you call me Will.”
Maddy fished the book from her coat pocket and opened it to show her name, written in her brother’s hand.
“Madeleine, is it?” Will said. “Do you ever speak, sweetheart?”
She shook her head.
“A mute then?”
She shoved her book back into the pocket of her coat with more force than was necessary. Marcus had been right. She wouldn’t escape that title.
Will adjusted his tone again. Now when he spoke, Maddy could only think of chocolate. “There now, no shame in it, doll. Why, a beauty like yourself hardly needs a voice at all. In fact, I’m convinced all of Frieden should bow to you and to hell with the Queen of Silence.” He grinned like a man who’d seen this line work a thousand times.
Maddy covered her mouth with her hands. None of her mother’s staff had the courage to call their monarch by the cruel nickname the people had given her. It was both stupid and brave to do so in front of a stranger. And though she laughed at Will’s impulsive, syrupy compliments, Maddy secretly adored them. His tasteless manners flawed him in an inviting way. She laughed at him more and more openly as they went along, but it never seemed to bother him. Before long, she began to feel confident walking beside the warm giant, and she wondered whether he didn’t make himself ridiculous to help her forget her own sorry condition.
Before she knew they had traveled at all, Will pulled Maddy down a mold-ridden alley and put both hands on her shoulders. “Wait here now. I won’t be long.” He disappeared into the shadow of a doorway she hadn’t noticed, stooping as he did.
The stag waited beside Maddy, ever the faithful dog. She puzzled at its behavior, twisting a strand of hair between her fingers. Maybe all deer behaved this way and Marcus had simply failed to mention it to her. Were that the case, it wouldn’t be very sporting to shoot them. But then Marcus wasn’t a very sporting person.
“He had no right,” she said to no one in particular. Then she decided to talk to the stag, which seemed to be listening intently, the way animals sometimes do. “I was happy, you know? Content, at least.” She paused, considering the truth of her own words. “Well, I didn’t want to run away. Mother must be sick with worry. And he had no right, anyway, behaving the way he did. It was vulgar and inappropriate.” She blushed. “Even if he isn’t my brother.”<
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The stag grunted. Maddy got the distinct impression it was laughing at her. She decided not to acknowledge it any more, but it had other ideas. It circled around her and began nudging her out of the alley. She giggled at first, but the more forceful it became, the less she liked it. When she resisted it, the animal prodded her with its antlers. “Stop that.” She shoved it back half-heartedly.
“Hey there.” The tailor emerged from the doorway, pocketing a handful of banknotes. He stepped between Maddy and the stag. “Don’t let that animal push you around. You’ve got to smack it on the nose when it misbehaves.”
The stag lowered its head in warning, but Will led Maddy out of the alley as though the creature weren’t even there. “Listen,” he said, taking her arm again. “I can see you’ve hit hard times. I’ve been in your place before, with no one and nothing—not even a name to call my own—but I got through it and I aim to help you do the same. Take my advice and you’ll be fine. The first thing you’ve got to do is get rid of that greatcoat. It’s military. I don’t know how you came by it, but people around here won’t have a spoonful of sympathy for a girl who’s stealing from the military, no matter how pretty she is. They’re scared, you see? So if you want anyone to help you…”
Maddy wrenched her arm away from him, pulled out her book, and finished writing the sentence Will had interrupted. I am not a thief.
Will stopped walking and cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t presume, doll, but I can’t say the same for everyone else.”
She blew into her hands to warm them and wrote again. This was my father’s coat.
Will looked doubtful but sympathetic.
My father was General Soeren Lavoie.
All the color drained from Will’s face when he read again. He backed away from her. “Lavoie really did have a daughter? You… You wouldn’t fool me about that, would you?”
She shook her head.
Will took her hand and whisked her along more hurriedly than ever. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier,” he muttered, “about our queen. Sometimes, folk say things they don’t mean. A little childish rebellion is good for the spirits. Look, I’ll do whatever it takes to get you home, but you’ve got to look kindly on me, if I do. I’m just a poor tailor.”
Maddy tugged away from him. She grew increasingly aware of the awkward stares she was getting from the people all around her, and she decided the tailor’s behavior was not helping.
“Keep still,” he said, taking her arm more forcefully. “I may be a stranger to you, but it would be far better for you to pretend I’m not. Trust me. None of these folk are as gentle as they look, and some of them aren’t fond of our military.” He cast a sympathetic glance down at her. “I’m sure your father was a good man, Lady, but politics being what they are…”
Maddy cringed at the word Lady. It sounded forced coming from Will, who now led her down a darker, more private alleyway, and began unfastening the buttons on her greatcoat. Maddy suddenly remembered what she wasn’t wearing beneath it, slapped his hands away, and re-buttoned what he’d undone.
Will groaned. “I can’t escort you around in this, Miss Lavoie, if that’s who you are. I don’t know what you’re doing here alone, but trust me, you don’t want to be recognized. Understand? There are rumors about you. Nasty rumors. Forgive me, but they say you’re raving mad.”
Maddy flinched.
“Anyone who hated your father will be overjoyed to learn of your existence, but not for any kindness they intend to show you. We would be wise to avoid attracting unnecessary attention.” He stared at her. “Is any of this getting through?”
Maddy made doubly sure they were alone before she lifted the base of her greatcoat—a gesture she found instantly distasteful. Will’s eyes widened when he saw nothing more than one plain, white petticoat above Maddy’s bare, muddy feet.
“I see,” he said. “Well, that complicates things. Why did you run away without getting dressed?”
I didn’t run away, Maddy wrote, hurried and angry. I was thrown out.
Will gave her a disbelieving look. “Now that doesn’t make any sense,” he said. “If Lady Lavoie wanted to avoid scandal, throwing her secret daughter out into the world without proper attire would seem counterproductive, don’t you think?”
Maddy wrote again. My brother threw me out while my mother slept.
“Truly?” Will said.
Maddy nodded.
“Is this some kind of inheritance war?”
She shrugged.
“Damn. Your brother will hang me for finding you if he really meant to lose you.” Will pinched his brow in thought. “Right. No time to waste.” He took her arm and marched her back onto the streets, where the stag waited like a perfect, stuffed trophy. It sprang to life when it saw Maddy, and followed them. “We’ll take the back roads to my place,” Will said. “Tomorrow, I’ll purchase a gown and fit it to you myself. Then we can at least hide that coat before you’re seen by someone who cares too much.”
***
The sky was candy pink by the time they turned down the street to Will’s home, which was little more than a rented shop with living quarters. He opened his front door to let Maddy enter, and before he could protest, the stag pushed right past him to join her. “You’d better be housetrained,” he muttered after it and frowned. “Miss Lavoie, I’m beginning to think this companion of yours is a bad omen.” The stag plopped down onto the floor and curled itself into a comfortable position. Its eyes never left Will, who tried not to look at it as he hung his coat and hat. “Makes one wonder whether it might be a critter of the forbidden sort.”
Maddy refused to acknowledge Will’s suggestion. Any man with half a head on his shoulders knew forbidden creatures were only the fairy tales left over from old religions. Still the tailor had a way of making her wonder over things she knew were ridiculous, over woodsprites and magic. She wondered whether Marcus believed in the stories he gave her. “Forbidden creatures aren’t real,” she announced to herself, at last.
The stag cocked its head, and Maddy backed away from it. Not even her mother’s horses watched her so attentively. And why had it followed her all this time? Maybe local children had spoiled it with their unwanted dinners. No reason to fear a friendly beast. But the strange light of understanding in its eyes unnerved her.
If forbidden creatures existed, it opened the door for the possible existence of all manner of legendary things—like Titans: the terrifying monster-gods of lore. The entire world feared them, including Frieden’s all-powerful queen, who still upheld her mother’s superstitious laws. Anyone who saw a Titan was to kill it on the spot. No one admitted to believing in them any more, but that didn’t stop people from using the law as an excuse to execute a neighbor or two. In their sophisticated society, the only citizens who benefited from the superstitions of the queen were criminals.
Will shared supper and wine with Maddy. Then he fetched water, heated it, and began dumping it into a steel tub behind a curtain in the corner. Maddy stood with a start, realizing she was meant to bathe there.
Will scratched his head when he saw her apprehension. “I’m sorry, but this is the only washtub I have. I wouldn’t dream of… Well, I’m not going to make a mess of things with a Lavoie, anyway. I swear it.”
Maddy insisted on keeping her greatcoat with her, even after she removed it. She carried it to the bath and pulled the curtain closed behind her. As she loosened the laces in her corset, she glanced under the curtain repeatedly to see whether the tailor’s boots were there. Once, a shadow approached and she snatched up her greatcoat, ready to fight and run. But the shadow belonged to the stag. She saw its feet now. It lay down just outside the curtain, and she heard Will mutter, “Strange beast,” from across the room.
Maddy buried herself in the heat of her bath. She pulled her head underwater and ran her fingers through her hair, shaking the world from it as she did. All the dried earth melting away should have given her some comfort. Instead, she felt weaker for i
t, as though a layer of armor had been peeled from her skin. She dried herself and dressed as slowly as she could manage, dreading the inevitable. Soon, she would emerge in her underclothes to be fitted by a stranger, without assistants present, without anyone. Her mother would have a fit if she ever found out.
Maddy wrapped her greatcoat around her shoulders and pulled the curtain aside. Will sat at the edge of his worktable and beckoned her, a smile on his face and a tape measure in his hand. She gritted her teeth and stepped around the stag.
“Don’t be afraid,” Will said. He wrapped his long fingers around her wrist and turned her hand palm-up. “Hold these for me.” He dropped a pair of heavy scissors into her hand with a smile. “If I grow teeth and bite, you can fend me off with them. I want you to feel comfortable. I’m not an ogre.” He reached over her shoulder and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.
Maddy held her breath. She could not remember ever feeling gentleness from a man. She had grown too accustomed to her brother’s iron touch. If only she could have enjoyed the moment longer. But as she watched the tailor gather his tape to take her measurements, a dense, unexplainable rage overcame her. She bit her lip and tried to fight it, but the more Will smiled at her, the more she wanted to plunge his scissors into his throat.
“Stop,” she ordered herself. “Stop stop stop.” She dropped the scissors.
“What’s the matter now?” Will said, without looking up at her.
Maddy reached into her pocket to bring out her book. She had to warn him about her madness, make him understand. She bent over the table and wrote. You know what they say about me. You must be more cautious.
Will leaned over her shoulder to read. “Is that what’s worrying you? You think I shouldn’t associate with you because of the rumors?” He lifted the greatcoat from her shoulders and folded it into a heap on his worktable. “Don’t concern yourself with nonsense and chatter, Miss Lavoie. It’s not your fault we common folk have nothing better to talk about.” He pulled the tape around her and began taking down numbers. “Even the queen hasn’t escaped unscathed. Have you heard about the secret prince? They say she keeps him hidden away in her basement in case of an assassination.”
