“What about my dress?”
“As far as I know it’s not ready.”
“But it must be ready,” protested the Fire Queen. “The fashion event is in two days time and I must be there, wearing it.”
Ann raised her palms hopelessly in the air. “I’m sorry, Malveria. I don’t really know what’s going on. Thrix hasn’t explained it to me. All I got was an email and that was vague.”
“What did it say about my dress?”
“Nothing.”
The Fire Queen struggled to take this in. What manner of crisis could have overwhelmed the Enchantress so completely?
“This makes no sense. If Thrix is well enough to compose an email, surely she is well enough to make a frock?”
Ann knew that Malveria was Thrix’s most important customer and couldn’t be palmed off, but at this moment she was more concerned about the difficult task of canceling all of Thrix’s upcoming appointments without damaging the business. She’d been on the phone with fashion editors, buyers and journalists all morning, making excuses for her employer’s absence. Once she’d done that, there was a missing consignment of cloth from Korea to be sorted out, and later in the day Thrix was meant to be interviewing models. Ann didn’t know what she was going to do about that. The rest of the staff was already uneasy, sensing something was wrong.
“Probably worried about their bonuses,” muttered Ann, “which all need calculation and authorization. By me, apparently.”
Malveria ignored this and looked toward the full rack of clothes at the side of the office.
“Might my dress be there?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Is it in the designers’ room?”
“No.”
“Are you sure? Could it be at the warehouse? Have you checked?”
“Malveria,” said Ann wearily, “I’m really sorry, but your dress isn’t ready, and Thrix hasn’t given me any idea when it will be.”
A flicker of flame appeared around the fingers of the Fire Queen’s right hand. Ann was aware of Malveria’s nature as a Fire Elemental.
“Please don’t get upset and incinerate the room, I can’t do anything about it.”
“But this is not tolerable! If I have not got my new dress, what am I to wear to the designers’ reception in two days time? Some aging creation from last year? The very notion terrifies me.”
“Thrix isn’t going to the designers’ reception,” said Ann. “She’s canceled.”
The Fire Queen reeled in her chair. Flames erupted from both hands and for a few moments she struggled to speak. Ann silently poured a glass of wine and passed it over the desk. Malveria gulped it down.
“Canceled? Without telling me? How can this be? It is the most splendid event and we have both been looking forward to it for the longest time!”
A tear escaped from Malveria’s eye, sizzling on her burning cheek. Thrix’s absence was so unexpected, and the prospect of not obtaining her new dress so terrifying, that the Fire Queen did not know what to think. She sat rigidly in her chair, completely bemused. It took her some time to compose herself, and by the time she could speak, Ann had returned her attention to Thrix’s computer.
“Has Thrix really abandoned me?”
“I think she might have meant for Jason to finish the dress.”
“Jason? Your senior designer? Really, Ann, his clothes might do for others, but for me? You must know this is impossible.”
Ann was too polite to actually shrug, but she had nothing to add. Thrix had gone to Scotland, she hadn’t returned, and she’d sent only the briefest of messages about what to do in her absence. Another flaming tear trickled from the Fire Queen’s eye, running down her cheek and disappearing into her long dark hair. She rose to her feet very slowly, as if her joints were stiff. She stood for a moment looking wistfully at the clothes rack and then, without another word, dematerialized.
CHAPTER 40
Eight hundred years in the past.
Though the fairy wedding was a colorful event, the eight-year-old Malveria was dressed severely for the occasion, as was her grandmother Malgravane. Malveria had been excited to receive an invitation—her first visit to another dimension—but she’d had to put up with lots of lecturing from her grandmother about behaving appropriately and not bringing disgrace on the Hiyastas.
“The fairies are old friends,” her grandmother had told her, “and have been since before the humans crawled out of their caves. But they are not quite respectable. There will be many elemental dignitaries at the wedding, so be sure not to do anything untoward. Speak only if you’re spoken to, stay close to me, and whatever you do”—Malgravane leaned over her granddaughter—“don’t play with the fairy children.”
“Why not?” asked Malveria.
“Because I say so,” barked Malgravane.
Malveria shrank backward. Her grandmother was an intimidating elemental. Far more intimidating than her mother, even though her mother was Queen. But Queen Malgrasin had never been in very good health. She would not be coming to the wedding. She was poorly again, and lay in her chambers in the palace. Queen Malgrasin was a popular ruler, but there was a general worry about how long her reign would last, given her ill health.
Malveria was extremely excited on the day of the wedding, even though she’d been fitted into a heavy black dress that was even more uncomfortable than the dark-red fire wrap she normally wore. Malveria chaffed under the weight. Her grandmother was similarly dressed, in formal black, as were their attendants. Malveria visited her mother before she left. The Queen lay propped up in bed, and though she kissed her daughter affectionately, she was too tired to talk for long.
“Be good,” she said. “And do what your grandmother tells you.”
Malveria promised she would. On her way out of the chamber she caught a glimpse of herself in one of the great mirrors on the wall, illuminated by the bright yellow torches, and she felt quite important in her formal dress. She wondered for a moment if she might impress the fairies at the wedding. She was the daughter of the Queen, after all. Although, she reflected, her older brothers and sisters would all be there too, and there were many of them.
Malveria had questions to ask her grandmother about the fairies, but her grandmother shushed her impatiently.
“Take my hand,” she ordered, which Malveria did. There was a brief darkness accompanied by an unpleasant cold, a coldness that as a Fire Elemental Malveria had never felt before. She hung on to her grandmother and was relieved when they emerged from the darkness into a beautiful green glade, full of flowers and surrounded by trees. Malveria found herself at the tail end of a procession of dark-clad Hiyasta who made their way solemnly through the glade toward a series of tables that seemed to have been formed from the trees and still to be part of them.
Malveria craned her neck to see around the crowd of relatives. A gap opened in front of her and her eyes widened in astonishment. There, clustered around the living furniture, were the fairies. Malveria had seen fairies before, at her mother’s court, where their ambassadors would visit, but the fairies she’d seen there had been rather somber. They wore dark robes, with their wings folded neatly behind their back. They were the same size as the Hiyasta. Here, in their own forest, the fairies were different. There were hundreds of them and they were not acting at all somberly. They were brightly dressed, and they seemed to change size at will. Malveria saw one tiny creature, no more than two inches tall, flutter toward some Earth Elementals, then instantly grow to human size before landing and bowing politely. He was immediately joined by another tiny fairy, who perched on his shoulder. She grew in size too, but remained on his shoulders, laughing. As the dignitaries of the Fire and Earth Elementals made their formal greetings to the green-clad fairy, he returned their greetings cheerfully, while the young fairy perched on his shoulders as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Malveria frowned. She understood what her grandmother had meant when she’d said that the fairies were n
ot quite respectable. Malveria dreaded to think what would have happened if she’d tried to perch on her mother’s shoulders while she was greeting royal guests.
As Malveria moved slowly forward, the young fairy, who seemed about Malveria’s age, hopped off her father’s shoulders and shrank again before floating off. Malveria looked at her departing figure with some disapproval. Clearly, these young fairies did not know how to behave properly. And what was she wearing? wondered Malveria. Her dress seemed to be made of gold. I’ve never seen anything like it.
Malveria was grabbed rather roughly by her grandmother and dragged forward to be introduced to the fairy in green.
“Princess Malveria, youngest daughter of Queen Malgrasin,” announced her grandmother.
Malveria bowed.
“Duke Foxglove Rinnalch Wallace,” said Malgravane, formally introducing him to her granddaughter.
Malveria bowed politely again, though she was still straining her neck to see more of the fairies who were fluttering around the tables. Now she could hear strains of music floating over the glade.
“Stay here,” said her grandmother. “And don’t touch anything.”
Malveria did as she was told and stood quietly at the back of the group, while her older brothers and sisters were introduced to the fairy duke. He welcomed them all to his daughter’s wedding with extravagant politeness.
“Hello,” came a voice behind her.
Malveria turned around. There stood the young fairy in the golden dress. She was now around the same height as Malveria. Whether that was her true height, or she’d just made herself the same height as Malveria so they could talk, Malveria didn’t know. The fairy had golden hair and large blue eyes, and her wings were decorated with colors that Malveria would have struggled even to put a name to. More colors than the fire rainbows in the lands of the Hiyasta, it seemed. Her golden dress shone like metal, but it appeared to be made of some substance so light that it floated around the girl’s body, lying perfectly on her shoulders no matter which way she turned.
“I’m Dithean NicRinnalch,” said the young fairy. “Who are you?”
“Princess Malveria.”
The fairy giggled. “That’s a funny name.”
“No it isn’t,” said Malveria, and might have said something sharp in return were she not so entranced by the fairy’s clothes.
“I like your dress,” she said.
“Thank you,” said Dithean. “I have hundreds of them. Yours is funny.”
“What do you mean ‘funny’?” asked Malveria.
“It’s so dark and heavy. You look like you might melt.”
Malveria bristled. She had the uncomfortable feeling that her dress was indeed very inferior to the fairy’s. It was a new feeling for the eight-year-old Fire Elemental, and she didn’t like it.
“It’s the proper dress for a wedding,” said Malveria defensively.
“It’s ugly,” said Dithean NicRinnalch.
Malveria was aware of the need to be on her best behavior but even so, she felt she couldn’t let herself be insulted like this. After all, she was here as a representative of the Hiyasta royal family.
“You’re rude,” she ventured.
The fairy seemed to find this very funny and laughed loudly. “Poor Fire Elemental in a big black heavy dress. And those big clumpy shoes! How are you going to dance in those?”
Malveria hadn’t been aware that she might be required to dance. She tried to conceal her surprise. “I’ll manage perfectly well,” she said stiffly.
This seemed to amuse the fairy even more. Her wings shook as she laughed. Malveria decided that she didn’t like Dithean NicRinnalch at all. Her grandmother had been right to warn her about fairy children. They were obviously rude and uncivilized. She resolved to leave with dignity.
“Would you like me to lend you a nice pretty dress?” said Dithean. “Golden like mine?”
The eight-year-old Malveria forgot all about leaving as she felt a strange elation wash over her. “Oh yes!” she said eagerly. “I’d like that more than anything!”
“Follow me,” said Dithean, and ran toward the trees. Malveria ran after her eagerly, catching up the hem of her heavy dress. By the time she reached the trees the fairy had produced another dress—just conjured it out of the air as far as Malveria could see—and was holding it out to her. Malveria tore off her own dress and slipped smoothly into the new one. It fitted her perfectly. Feeling the lightness of the fabric, and the way it hung perfectly, Malveria felt giddy with liberation.
“You can see your reflection in the stream,” said the young fairy.
Malveria hurried to do just that, and stood over the stream looking at herself, transfixed and elated by the beauty of her new golden dress. She had never felt as happy as she did at that moment.
“Would you like some fairy shoes?” asked Dithean.
“You have shoes as well?” said Malveria, and felt slightly weak from anticipation.
The Fire Queen sat on her own in her private chambers in her beautiful palace. Though she was deeply upset, she still managed a faint smile at the memory of her first pretty dress.
How I loved that golden frock, she thought. The memory was still crystal clear, even after eight hundred years. “And Dithean NicRinnalch was a rude young fairy!” They’d been friends ever since.
Malveria’s transgressions at the wedding cost her dearly. The fairy duke had laughed with pleasure to see his daughter and her new friend in their matching dresses, but Malgravane had been rendered speechless by the sight of Princess Malveria in a golden frock and silver slippers. As it was not possible for Malgravane to discipline Malveria while the duke was there, the repercussions took a little while to arrive. But they did arrive soon enough. When the Hiyasta returned home, young Malveria’s serious transgressions were fully reported to her mother. Malveria was duly summoned to her mother’s chamber where she was spoken to extremely sharply. The Queen lectured her on the inappropriateness of discarding one’s respectable clothing in exchange for a few bits of wispy cloth from a flighty young fairy.
Princess Malveria apologized, but Queen Malgrasin knew the apology wasn’t sincere. Malveria didn’t really regret wearing the dress, or the shoes. Her aura positively glowed at the memory. Malveria was banished to kitchen duty, which was a great disgrace for a Hiyasta princess. Her many older brothers and sisters regarded her with contempt and her grandmother never really forgave her. Letting down the dignity of the Hiyasta royal family was a serious matter.
Working in the kitchens, Malveria wilted. At the age of eight, she found it difficult to stand up to her entire family. There seemed to be disapproving brothers and sisters everywhere. Her grandmother told her that she would continue to be punished until she was truly sorry for her misdeeds. Weeks later, as Malveria was wearily bringing food from the kitchens and helping serve it to her family—another disgrace—she finally reached the end of her tether. Under the contemptuous gaze of her brothers, Malveria’s temper snapped. She angrily smashed a plate on the floor.
“You can glare at me all you like!” she stormed. “I’m not sorry I wore the fairy dress and I’m never going to be sorry! It was a beautiful dress and I liked it much better than this horrible one I’m wearing now! And I’m never going to apologize.”
“How dare you speak like that to us!” cried Malgravane.
Malveria glared at her grandmother. “When I grow up I’m going to be friends with Dithean the fairy and I’m going to wear nice dresses all the time!”
Servants looked on in embarrassment as Malveria was summarily ejected from the dining hall, and after this her punishment carried on for a very long time. Her own servants were withdrawn, leaving her to take care of herself. Malveria became the only princess who had ever been obliged to cook her own meals. Her position in the family became that of a rebellious upstart who was treated with hostility and suspicion.
Malveria was friendless in the palace, apart from Xakthan, a young trooper in the Palace Gua
rd, who still gave her a friendly greeting every day and sometimes let her play with his sword and shield. Life was hard, and Malveria never really made things up with her family. She never apologized, though she did eventually learn to disguise her aura better.
The Fire Queen shuddered, suddenly recalling with too much clarity the beating her grandmother had given her on returning to the palace after the wedding. She sipped from a goblet of wine and stared gloomily at the floor.
“I can’t believe Thrix has deserted me,” she sighed. “And I want my new dress.”
CHAPTER 41
Kalix had been depressed and anxious for the past two days, and her unhappiness increased when she remembered her werewolf improvement plan. It had all gone wrong so quickly. The entries seemed to be mocking her. Stop taking laudanum was particularly painful to read, in light of her recent disastrous overdose. Kalix drew a heavy black cross beside this item, denoting her failure. Deciding that wasn’t enough, she drew another cross, and then a third.
Get on better with people. Kalix sighed heavily. She’d tried to attack Daniel and Moonglow in the warehouse. The whole MacRinnalch Clan despised her more than ever. Kalix drew four black crosses next to the entry, another three beside Stop being anxious, and another three at Stop being depressed.
Stop cutting myself. Kalix glanced at the blood trickling from her left arm.
“You’d have to say that was another failure,” she muttered.
Eat better. Kalix, having decided never to eat again, drew four black crosses beside this.
“This is the worst self-improvement plan ever. I’ve failed at everything.”
She was gripped by a desire never to see or talk to anyone again. She hid under her duvet. It didn’t feel like she was well enough concealed. She considered crawling under the bed, but remembered that as a child, she’d hidden under her bed at the castle and her mother had found her easily. The only other possible alternative was the cupboard. Kalix was briefly tempted. Hiding in the cupboard seemed like an attractive idea.
The Anxiety of Kalix the Werewolf Page 16
