Regina Rising

by Wendy Toliver

  I shrugged. “It may be.”

  “I wish I could get it back.” Her fingertips skimmed her collarbone.

  The door suddenly swung open, narrowly missing my knees. A birdlike woman in an apron screeched at the sight of us and dropped the basket of fruit she’d been carrying. As Claire and I scrambled to our feet, another servant—this one twice the size of the first—came racing to the other’s aid, and before we knew it, the pantry was populated with four fretful people, all talking at once.

  Finally, I held up my hand in what I hoped was an authoritative way, and everybody quieted. “Excuse us,” I said in a polite tone. “My friend and I were trying to show ourselves out, and we lost our way. Castles can be quite befuddling.”

  Nodding, Claire said, “This is my first time in a castle.”

  “It’s true,” I agreed, scrunching my feet into my slippers. “Can either of you please point us in the right direction? It’s late, and her uncle’s carriage is waiting.”

  The larger woman stooped, picked up the jar of cider, and gave it a good wiggle. “What, pray tell, is goin’ on in here?” she demanded in a strange accent, eyeballing Claire and me.

  I shrugged, and Claire pointed at the smaller woman. In turn, the smaller woman put her hands on her hips and huffed. While the two servants had words—as our ploy had obviously hit a nerve between them—Claire and I slipped behind them and out of the pantry. As we ran through the kitchen, I realized I’d left my gloves behind. I went back to retrieve them, only to see the smaller woman climb up the shelf and slap the other right on her cheek.

  Somehow, Claire and I held in our fits of laughter until we collapsed in Giles’s carriage. Before the coachman took off, however, there was a curt tapping on the window. I feared it was Benjamin and hoped it was Jasper.

  It wasn’t a man at all, though. Illuminated by fiery torches and colorful lanterns, my mother appeared every bit as put-together as when we’d first arrived at the ball. She curled her finger to say, Come, and I gathered my things and scooted across the bench.

  Before stepping out, I gave Claire a look that I could only hope expressed what a wonderful night I’d had with her. She gave me a little wave and sank back into her seat, probably exhausted. I knew how she felt. But I also felt light—and a little tipsy—as I followed my mother down the hill.

  “Did you have an enjoyable evening, my daughter?” she asked as we made our way down the hill past the carriages to where Hector was waiting with ours.

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “Good. Your father will be joining us shortly. As we were leaving, Prince Benjamin asked to speak with him. It appears you made a good impression after all.”

  I stopped walking. “Does that make you happy?”

  “Happy?” She chuckled softly. “Well, it’s certainly something. Your first ball at sixteen, and already you’ve caught the eye of a man with royal blood.” She reached over and brushed a piece of hair off my cheek.

  With the colorful party lanterns flanking us and the moon and the stars shining from the sky, my mother was casting a very large shadow.

  And I was in it.

  Once I got home from the royal ball, I went directly to my chambers. I shed my shoes, gown, and corset, leaving them where they dropped. Then I sprawled out on top of my bedspread, replaying some of the scenes from the night. I had every intention of falling asleep just so, but someone rapped on my door.

  “I’ve come for your laundry, m’lady,” Rainy said, and I grunted something agreeable-sounding.

  “Did you have a nice time at the ball?” she asked as she bustled about.

  I rolled my eyes, wishing the woman would pick another time to be social.

  “You looked very beautiful. I am sure the gents couldn’t keep their eyes off you.”

  “The one I would have liked to have noticed me didn’t even bother to show up, and the one who wouldn’t leave me alone made me want to throw up.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it,” she said, frowning. “I wager you had a lovely time with Miss Claire, though. You two have become fast friends, yes?”

  “Yes, yes. A lovely time. Fast friends. Didn’t you say you were coming for my laundry?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spied her sniffing my gown. When she regarded me, her eyes glossed with concern and her brow furrowed with what I interpreted to be disappointment. I could tell she believed I’d had too much drink and was feeling the ill effects.

  In all honesty, my stomach was in a most fragile state. Whether from the cider or my emotions, I did not know. What I did know, however, was that I was sick and tired of being a “tagalong.” I wanted to be courageous, like Claire. I wished to be powerful, like my mother. I was tired of letting fear rule my life.

  I ungracefully slid off the bed and tromped to my vanity. Staring at my reflection, I wiped the streaks of makeup from my eyes. I shook my hair loose and gently touched the skin above my lip. I missed the girl who got back in the saddle the morning after her accident. I missed the girl who believed it was more important to win her own approval than her mother’s. Maybe, possibly, if I could become that girl again, I would love the person in the mirror.

  Before crawling into bed, I padded out onto my balcony. The night sky was ablaze with stars. I sought out the brightest one, and it seemed to wink at me. Unlike the others, which shone like diamonds, this one was the color of a sapphire.

  Sunday, May 21

  The night after the royal ball, I grabbed a lantern and mounted my steed. I wasn’t going to visit Claire as I’d told my parents. “To Firefly Hill,” I said as I guided Rocinante southward, into the forest.

  I had no idea if what I was about to do would work, or if it would be an utter waste of time. The tale of the Blue Fairy was as old as time, but as I was discovering, some of the stories I had been told or had read in books could very well be true, like that of the blind witch in the gingerbread cottage. I could only hope Firefly Hill was a real place, and that like in the story, it was located under the clearest part of the night sky. However, the farther I rode, the more disheartened I became, for each time I thought I might be in the right place, clouds rolled in. Rocinante seemed to feel my despair, and on several instances, he looked back in the direction of the stables.

  I sighed. “All right, Rocinante. Let’s go home.” As soon as I’d said it, a firefly flew in front of us. Not a second later, it was joined by dozens, hundreds, maybe even thousands of others, all blinking their tiny yellow lights. They might as well have taken Rocinante’s reins, because he sure-footedly followed their lead.

  Before us, the hills, boulders, and trees of the Enchanted Forest sprawled as far as we could see, illuminated by the moonlight. “Oh, Rocinante, it’s beautiful,” I said breathlessly. The fireflies flew higher, leading our gazes upward. The canopy of leafy branches yawned open, revealing a velvety midnight-blue sky. “This must be the place.”

  Rocinante neighed and bobbed his head. I slid off the saddle and hitched him to a tree, leaning against its trunk while I scanned the stars for the blue one I’d seen before.

  “It’s hopeless,” I complained to Rocinante after several moments had passed. My heart felt heavy as I searched the sea of stars in vain.

  But as soon as I’d spoken, I caught a glimpse of a twinkling star, and the longer I stared at it, the bluer it became. “Maybe it’s not hopeless after all,” I murmured, mesmerized by the extra-bright flickers. I closed my eyes and made my wish.

  Then I peeked—first with one eye, then the other. Nothing had changed. It was just me, my horse, and a bunch of fireflies on a hill. “Come on, Rocinante. This is a waste of time. The Blue Fairy doesn’t really exist.”

  Rocinante pricked his ears and stomped his front leg. In the reflection of his eyes, I spotted a tiny blue dot. He kept his eyes trained on it as it floated around the treetops. By the time I whirled around to see it directly, the blue dot had drifted downward and grown to the size of an apple. It continued expanding as it hovered before me. A s
udden flash of light blinded me momentarily, and I gasped and shielded my face.

  When I lowered my hands and blinked, a resplendent fairy had appeared between Rocinante and me, gracefully flapping her translucent wings. Her gown reminded me of a summer sky—azure and airy—and was festooned with sweet-smelling roses. Her curly dark hair was piled on the top of her head, elegant and soft. She seemed to be sprinkled from head to toe with stardust.

  “Hello,” she said, smiling.

  It took me a few seconds to find my voice. “Hello. Have you come to grant my wish?” I asked in shock. The Blue Fairy was floating before me, and what was more, we were actually communicating.

  With lyrical grace, she at once tilted her head, blinked her eyes, and smiled. “Well, that depends on you. Please, tell me why you want it so badly.”

  I wandered over to my horse and slipped my fingers through his mane and down his neck. He pushed into my hand, wanting more. “When I was twelve, I went on a horseback ride with my father. The horse I was riding—this one’s mother—got spooked when she lost sight of him, and bucked me into a tree. I fully believe she never meant me harm. Hwin was a wonderful horse, a true friend.” Was. I swallowed, trying to keep the emotions I’d so carefully buried from coming back up. “The next day, when I was able to conquer my fear of getting back into the saddle, I felt courageous. At that moment, I liked myself—probably more than I ever have. I want to feel like that again.”

  “I see.”

  “So, are you able to grant my wish?”

  She held up her dainty fingers, and in them appeared a gilded handheld mirror. “See for yourself.”

  As she passed me the mirror, a swarm of fireflies formed a wreath around it, lighting up my reflection. My gaze immediately gravitated to above the right corner of my mouth, where the cut I’d received when I’d fallen off Hwin had reappeared. The cut healed before my eyes, leaving behind a scar. I touched it, taken aback.

  “It was there all along,” the Blue Fairy said. “Your bravery. Now, if you ever question it, or need a reminder, you will be able to see it for yourself every time you look in the mirror.”

  As her words sank in, I couldn’t help smiling. I examined the scar in the mirror, and the empowerment I’d felt four years before, when I’d gotten back on the horse, returned full force. “Not only have you granted my wish, you’ve reminded me what it feels like to have hope.” If Snow White’s and my path ever crossed again, I finally had a proper bedtime story to tell her.

  I returned the mirror to its owner; however, in the instant our fingers brushed, the fairy gasped and jerked her hand away. It was as if my touch had somehow scorched her. The mirror fell on a moss-covered rock and shattered. “Oh, dear!” she exclaimed, and if I wasn’t mistaken, it appeared she was trembling.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “To be honest, I’m not sure. Your heart is pure. If it were not, I wouldn’t have been able to grant your wish.” She hung in the air, perfectly motionless. Slowly, she bent her elbows and flipped her hands palms up. “You see, fairy magic is the purest of all light magic. Yet, when I touched you, I sensed something….” Her hands squeezed into fists, and she dropped them to her sides.

  “What did you sense?” I prompted, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer. Is there something wrong with me?

  She swallowed and smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, never mind, child. I’m sure it meant nothing. Absolutely nothing. Nothing…at all.”

  I’d only just met the Blue Fairy, but I could tell she was lying. “Something is troubling you. Please, tell me what it is,” I beseeched her.

  A look of alarm flashed over her features.

  “What did you sense?” I repeated.

  Her shoulders slumped, which made her wings appear flimsy and sad. “Promise me you will never forget this moment, when your heart was so pure, I had no choice but to grant your wish—and do so without reservation.” She turned her eyes skyward for a brief moment and then stretched out her wings. “Always remember the way it feels in the core of your heart, and in the depths of your soul,” she said as she took to the air. “Come back to this moment whenever you’re torn between light and dark. Promise me.”

  Torn between light and dark? “I promise,” I agreed. But I was certain I’d never have reason to revisit this moment again. I wouldn’t be drawn to…darkness.

  I mounted Rocinante and he turned on his hind legs, waving his majestic tail behind him. I searched the night sky for the Blue Fairy to thank her, but she was nowhere to be seen. I raised my gaze higher, and the blue star twinkled brightly for a mere second before dimming to blend in among the sea of stars.

  “Your Highness, Regina is home,” Solomon announced, discreetly yawning as he scratched his belly.

  “Thank you, Solomon.” My mother entered the living room in a cloud of the latest perfume she’d talked my father into procuring for her. She wore a deep-blue gown trimmed with black, accessorized with gold and sapphire jewelry. She placed a vaseful of orchids on the sofa table and took extra care and time to straighten them to her liking. Evidently, they were not her choice color, and so she waved her hand and they deepened in hue from a blush pink to a deeper mauve, and finally, to a dramatic shade of crimson. “We may not live in the royal castle, but there’s no reason we can’t have the most exotic flowers in the land,” she said, brushing her palms together. “And soon, my daughter, we might be living in a royal castle after all. While you were out on that horse of yours, you had a gentleman caller. Come to find out, Prince Benjamin is interested in courting you. The only hitch is, he lives way out in Helmsville. For that reason, he’d like to begin courting you while he’s still a guest of Queen Eva’s. You can’t begin to imagine how pleased I am, Regina.”

  Finally, she let the orchids be and regarded me with an equally discerning eye. Her gaze narrowed on my newly resurrected scar, and my stomach dropped. With one cold hand, she grabbed me under my chin and directed my face closer to the fiery sconce on the wall.

  “What is that?” Her voice and eyes were tinged with such disgust I might as well have had a smear of Thaddeus’s dung on my nose. She snapped her fingers. “Solomon, your handkerchief.”

  With a quick step forward, the servant whipped a white square cloth out of his vest pocket. My mother seized it and used it to try to rub off my scar.

  “It’s there to stay, Mother,” I said. “I wished for it.”

  Her eyes blazed, and as much as I tried not to, I shrank a little.

  “You did what?”

  “I wished on the blue star, and the Blue Fairy granted it with light magic. Not even you can undo it.”

  She tossed the handkerchief aside, and Solomon practically dove to catch it before it landed on the tiles. “Leave us, Solomon,” she ordered through the corner of her lips, and the servant clicked his heels and dutifully made himself scarce.

  “I don’t understand, Regina. You wished for a scar? Did I raise you to be an idiot? Do you want to be an old maid?”

  “No, Mother. I finally made a decision for myself, that’s all.”

  The words were barely out of my mouth when her hand crashed against my cheek. I held back a whimper and stood still—my face stinging and eyes locked on hers. “You’re right, Mother. You don’t understand.”

  I turned to look in the silver-framed mirror that had taken the place of our family portrait. “Once upon a time, I was thrown from a horse’s back. I didn’t let it stop me from doing what I love to do best. The next morning, I got back onto the horse. This,” I said, touching the skin above my lip, which now burned from having been rubbed, “is a reminder of how I was able to conquer my greatest fear.”

  “Perhaps someday you’ll be wise enough to make your own decisions, but until then, I’ll have to do it for you,” she said. In the mirror’s reflection, I saw her open her hand. Above her palm hovered a small violet cloud of magic.

  As I opened my mouth to protest, my father rounded the corner with a p
late of delicious-looking cookies.

  His gaze darted from his wife to me and back to his wife again. He abruptly stopped chewing and swallowed with apparent difficulty. “Good gracious, Cora!” he said, stepping between the two of us. “What now? Are you all right, my child?” he asked, his kind brown eyes roaming over my features as he set the plate on the table.

  “Yes, Daddy, I’m fine. I’m better than fine.”

  “Our daughter has injured herself,” my mother said, sucking our attention back to her. The cloud of magic grew ominously in her open palm.

  I didn’t flinch. I refused to be afraid of my mother forever.

  He turned to his wife and gently took her hand. She looked down at their entwined fingers as the purple smoke vanished. “Let her be, Cora.”

  Her mouth dropped open, and she promptly snapped it shut. I was shocked, too, and I could not talk myself into politely averting my eyes. My mother rolled her shoulders back and stretched her arms and fingers down by her sides.

  “I was going to fix it like it never happened. It’s a shame to have her beautiful face marred in such an unsightly way,” she said, frowning. “Particularly now, when she’s of the age to be attracting royal suitors. As I’m sure you know, Henry, Prince Benjamin will commence courting Regina tomorrow evening.”

  “Ah, yes. The prince. I had a nice long chat with him last night. After suffering through monologues about the weather and politics and—oh, yes—how my shoes aren’t pointed enough to be in fashion, he thought he’d torture me further with talk of his family.”

  “So he’s not the most skilled conversationalist in the realm,” my mother said, twisting her wrist in the air dismissively. “Neither are you, Henry, but I try not to hold it against you.”

  “Thank you, dear,” he said to his wife, giving me a wink on the sly. “However, my point is—and I think the both of you will be interested to know—Benjamin is not of royal blood. He became a prince in title alone by marrying the late Princess Heather of Helmsville. Who, as it turns out, has a rather large family. Three elder sisters and two brothers, one elder and one younger, and all are alive and well.”