The smile vanished from her face, and she looked… drained… and so, so much older, somehow.
“She died when I was fourteen. And then it was just me… and dear old dad. And when he was too drunk to do his work, the miller’s daughter went to work in the miller’s stead.”
Her focus drifted as she remembered her history.
“And that’s how I came to be known around the people of the city. As the miller’s daughter. Never as an actual person. Never with a name of my own. The miller’s daughter, not Renee.”
Known to many, but never with a name of her own… A moniker of my own echoed in my mind: The Unicorn Princess. “I can relate to that,” I said softly.
She eyed me, and the wisp of a smile graced her lips once again. “I suppose you can, can’t you?”
“So how did you go from that to… meeting Father?”
Her smile split. “The one good thing my father ever did for me started off as the worst. Somehow, in his drunken stupor, he bragged about his daughter’s spinning talents. He bragged about my work ethic. He said that I could spin straw into gold. I think the bastard meant it to be a poetic metaphor for both of those things.”
“Mother!” I said, aghast. She had never sworn in my presence before.
She batted my exclamation away and continued telling her story.
“Someone listening took him literally, and when the rumors reached the king, that is, Bennet’s father and your grandfather—he took them literally too. And my father, well…” She scoffed. “He was too embarrassed and prideful to take one word of it back and say that it was a joke.”
“Spinning gold from straw is impossible, though,” I said. “How did you get out of that?”
Her whole face shuttered, and I couldn’t glean anything from the wooden expression she wore. “I got lucky that your father is who he is.”
I bit my lip. There was more to this story, I felt certain of that, but I didn’t want to press my luck. She’d already given me so much more than she’d given me before.
Gently, she deposited the doll back into the box she’d so carefully wrapped her in to gift to her baby granddaughter. And now, knowing where the doll came from and the comfort she’d probably provided to my mother when she was a young, scared girl, I saw the doll through new eyes. She may not have looked it, but the threadbare doll was an heirloom. Precious and irreplaceable, with important memories that only her eyes had seen.
My mother hadn’t just given Fae a gift today. She’d given me one, too.
She replaced the lid of the box gently, tucking her past away where it was easier for her to deal with. And when she turned to me again, her smile was hesitant and a little afraid.
I’d made my mother afraid to even talk to me. And something in my heart shriveled with shame over that realization.
“I know,” she said. “I know that I'm hard on you. That I don’t exactly make it easy for you to live your life the way that you want to. And I'm sorry for it. But I just...” she trailed off and began to sniffle. She tried to smile, but it wobbled on her face. “I hope you know, Eliana, that you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I would move heaven and earth to protect you. And now that you have a daughter of your own, I know that you understand how I feel, but you must also understand that I have even more to lose now. You and Fae… you’re just both so precious to me. If, gods forbid, anything were to happen to either of you, I just couldn't bear that. The thought of losing you…”
She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. Her voice choked up, and with that, she burst into tears. I looked down at my daughter in my arms. Her eyes seemed to look as bewildered as I felt. I set her in her bassinet and walked out of the bedroom, motioning for my mother to follow, and when we were both in the sitting room, I stood in front of her. We locked eyes, and her watery eyes looked at mine, searchingly as she clutched a gray handkerchief to her breast, breath shuddering in little, gasping sobs. I brought my arms forward, and I pulled my mother into an embrace.
She buried her face in my neck and clutched tightly at my shoulders with desperate hands, sobbing into me. “I love you so much, Eliana,” she cried. “I can’t lose you.”
“You're not going to lose either of us,” I soothed, rubbing my hand over her back in soft, comforting circles. “Not me. Not Fae. I don't understand why you think you would.”
She pulled back, sniffling, and wiped at her eyes with the handkerchief, widening her eyes and blinking rapidly so that more tears wouldn't fall. “There’s no real reason. Just a mother’s fear. My fear. I’m overdramatic, right? I always have been. I’m just a silly, scared old woman, I suppose.”
She wouldn't meet my eyes, so I knew that she didn’t truly believe that. Suspicion stabbed me deep in the gut, an instinct that I couldn’t shake off. There was more to this than simple dramatics. There had to be.
“I would never describe you as ‘silly,’” I said. I took the handkerchief she was wringing from her hands and gently swiped it over her cheeks to catch a few more trailing tears. I swiped it over her nose in a playful manner. “I mean, paranoid and dramatic, sure. Absolutely. But silly?” I pursed my lips, pretending to think. “Nah.”
She let out a watery burst of laughter.
“Paranoid,” she repeated. The tone of her voice was strange. Mirth, with a strange coating of bitterness. “I suppose you’re right. Nothing has happened in all these years. Why would it start now?”
I tilted my head to the side, catching that strange tone. “Mother, are you sure that’s all it is? Paranoia? Or is there something else that you’re not telling me? Is there a reason that I should be afraid?”
She opened and closed her mouth like there was something more she wanted to say. More that she wanted to tell me. I waited with bated breath.
“I—” Her mouth settled closed, and she smiled, tight-lipped, but trying to act like everything was fine. “Enough of this sadness,” she said firmly, changing the subject and leaving me with a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach. The things she’d spoken about today were obviously hard for her to talk about, but I couldn’t quite put the story of her childhood together with why she was so afraid now. Her father was a horrible man, but he was long dead and couldn’t hurt us. Besides, he’d shown no interest in me when I was a young child. I doubted he’d have cared about Fae even if he was alive.
“I came here to apologize to you for the fight last night, and that's what I'm going to do. I am sorry for the way I behaved and how I reacted. Do you forgive me?”
“Of course,” I said. “Thank you for apologizing. But after what I said to you, I should be asking you if you forgive me.”
Her smile turned into something real. “Oh, darling.” She trailed a gentle hand down my cheek and stared lovingly into my eyes. “I'm your mother.” The smile transformed into a grin. “I’ll always forgive you.” Her hand dropped from my cheek as she clapped them both together. “But, enough of these sad tidings and dwelling upon the past. You forgive me, and I, you, so the nasty business is taken care of.” She seized my hands in hers and gave them a squeeze. “Let's turn to happier things. I want to throw a party.”
The change of subject was so quick that it could have given me whiplash. I blinked in surprise. “A party?” I repeated, dumbfounded.
Glee lit up in her red-rimmed eyes. “Yes, a party!” she said, mirth and teasing lacing her voice now. “Something to celebrate you and the new baby. The new Princess of Vale. What do you think?” She looked nervous to hear my opinion. “You always loved a party when you were younger.”
She was right. I had. I loved the fun, food, and jovial atmosphere, and I had loved twirling about, dancing to upbeat music, and getting a flush in my cheeks from the movement.
A frisson of excitement raced through me. It had been so long since I’d attended a proper party, let alone organized one. I had barely had that big of a role in my own wedding. I’d wanted to be married so quickly that we did it simply, and I’d let Mother and Fat
her and their staff see to most of the details. Throwing one in Fae’s name felt right. A night to focus on joy, rather than all that I’d lost. All that Mother still feared we could lose. I envisioned floral centerpieces, twinkling candlelight, and a festive masquerade. I looked at my mother and returned her grin. "Yeah. Yeah, let's do it."
She pulled me in close in order to embrace me. “We shall have such fun organizing this. It’s exactly what everyone needs! And then I can really make it up to you.”
I knew in my heart that this was her way of keeping me busy so I wouldn’t feel the need to leave the palace. She needed me near her at all times, and this was the best way to do it. It would work. I loved the idea of planning a party, but after that? After that, we’d fall into the same old argument, and nothing really would change.
7
28th April
“What do you think about daisies and ranunculus from Floris, and wild garden roses and baby’s breath from our own gardens?” My mother asked, poised with a pen to take notes.
We’d been at it all morning, and I’d be damned if I wasn’t starting to get pretty excited about the party.
“I’d prefer the wild flowers from the meadow. So much easier and no cost.” I held my breath waiting for her answer, knowing any talk of the meadow might sour the fragile truce between us. As I thought, she pursed her lips, ready to remind me that cost wasn’t an object. I didn’t wait for her dismissal of my idea.
“The servants can pick them fresh on the morning of the party.”
As soon as I mentioned servants going out to the meadow and not me, her face brightened.
“I think that’s a lovely idea.” She crossed something out and wrote something else before setting the book to one side.
She stood up and stretched her arms above her head. “This has been so much fun, but I have a dance lesson with Pierre.” She knelt toward Fae’s bassinet. “I’ll see you later, my darling girl,” she cooed.
“Dance lesson?” I queried, bending to scoop Fae up as she began to fuss.
Mother clapped her hands together and beamed. “I booked them so I can look like I know what I’m doing at the party. I say, why don’t you join me? It could be fun.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. This was another attempt to keep my attention anywhere but the calling of the outdoors and the meadow. Not that I could really blame her. I had threatened to run away, taking Fae with me.
“What about Fae?” I asked. I’d not been separated from my daughter since she was born. I was surprised my mother wanted to do something where Fae was out of both of our sights.
“I thought Judith could take her for an hour. The weather is so glorious, I thought that maybe we could practice in the courtyard and Judith could watch while Fae naps.”
I had to hand it to her. She had all the angles covered. She knew I was itching to be in the sun, and she didn’t want to go too far away from Fae. This way, we’d both be safe within her eyesight while still giving me the illusion of freedom. Judith was the nanny we’d hired a couple of months ago after a long search of the best nannies in The Vale. So far, since Fae was born, she’d done nothing but twiddle her thumbs. It was about time she worked for the exorbitant amount we were paying her.
A servant was sent to summon Judith and Pierre while my mother and I walked out into the courtyard with Fae in my arms and my mother carrying the bassinet.
I got Fae comfortable and placed the bassinet in the shade. She looked up, and I followed her gaze at the fluffy clouds that dotted the perfectly blue sky. I’d heard that newborns couldn’t see much further than a foot away from their nose, but Fae looked rapt as she stared skyward, so I wasn’t sure that was true.
“Your Highness.”
I turned to find Judith waiting patiently. She gave me a curtsey, then a warm grin at the baby. She was an extraordinarily beautiful woman, though her basic makeup, nanny costume, and severe bun hid a lot of that beauty. What it didn’t hide was the joy she radiated at spending time with the baby. We’d made a good choice with her.
“I’ll be just over there,” I said, pointing to my mother, who was deep in conversation with Pierre. “I’ll be the one falling over my feet. Holler if she wants to be fed.”
“I’m sure we’ll be just fine,” Judith said, settling herself down on the ground next to Fae’s bassinet.
It took another ten minutes to get ready as Pierre refused to teach us without music, so we had to bring part of the Royal Guard Band out to join us. Anyone watching through the palace gates must have thought we were mad. It made me glad that our palace wasn’t right in the middle of the city like the ones in Antla in Atlantice and Kisbu in Badalah.
“Ve hav one man and two vomen,” Pierre said in a heavy accent I couldn’t quite place. He was a wisp of a man without an excess pound of flesh on his bones.
“I’ll watch while you dance,” I said, taking a step back. My mother grabbed my arm.
“We’ll take it in turns. I’ll dance with Pierre first, then you can.”
I rolled my eyes and gave her a grin. “If you have to look like an idiot, you want to make sure I do too, huh?”
“Something like that,” she whispered, giving me a conspiratorial wink, before heading back to Pierre, who was waiting impatiently, tapping his toes on the cobbles beneath his feet.
For the better part of an hour, Pierre corrected our posture, teaching us the appropriate steps and repositioning our arms. I lost myself in the movement of the music, closing my eyes and finding peace within it.
That was, until an unmistakable roar interrupted us.
“Eliana!”
The musicians stopped as Jay came sprinting into the courtyard, yelling my name.
He stopped short when he saw me just finishing a twirl that I felt rather daring in even attempting.
Everything went quiet as all eyes turned to him.
Jay’s chest heaved, and his cheeks were tinged pink with exertion.
I raised an eyebrow of inquiry at him. “Yes?” I prompted. “Did you need something?”
He looked sharply between my mother and me. “It’s the unicorns, Eliana,” he said urgently, eyes locking onto mine. “We need you. It's happening again; traps have been laid. We got lucky this time. A patrol found them before anyone—human, unicorn, or otherwise—was hurt, but make no mistake, the unicorns are in danger. We need to herd them away from the traps before they're hurt just as badly—if not worse than the baby unicorn we saved before Fae was born.”
“But…” Confusion swamped me. “We have plenty of hostlers, surely. Must it be me?”
His eyes darted to my mother once again. I didn’t dare even look at her. I’d not mentioned my little nighttime excursion on the night of Eliana’s birth, but it must have gotten to her. There was no way all those guards would have kept quiet. She’d made no mention of it either. Fae’s birth had eclipsed anything else that had happened that night. If the unicorns needed me, I was loathe not to go. I did so long to help them in any way that I could. But, more, I was loathe to disturb the so recently acquired peace between Mother and me.
Jay stepped forward and seized both of my hands in his. “No one knows them like you,” he said urgently. “I’ve no doubt the hostlers could come too, but I don’t think anyone will be nearly as effective as you will be with them. So will you come?”
“I thought you said there weren’t any unicorns trapped?”
“Not yet, but there are a lot of traps. It going to take hours to get to them all. We need you if a unicorn does end up in one. You know they won’t let anyone near them. You have a gift with them. It has to be you.”
I dropped Jay’s hands and turned toward the one person that would be able to stop me.
“Mother?” I asked. We'd only just recovered from her freakout when I'd gone to the staviary. I didn't know how she'd handle the idea of me going all the way back to the meadow and out of the watchful shadow of the palace.
The meadow.
Despite the dire reasons fo
r needing to go, a little thrill shot through me. It seemed like so long ago since I'd smelled its sweet scent of grass and flowers. Too long. With that thought in my mind, I practically bounced on the balls of my feet in anticipation.
My mother smiled—a tremulous one, but one that held nevertheless. It was sincere. She meant it. “I’ll look after Fae,” she said. She gestured for the guards standing inside both sides of the doorway. “These two will accompany you.”
“I promise I’ll keep her safe, Your Majesty,” Jay offered.
I’d been so ready for her to say no that I’d not expected her to let me go. She really was trying. I hesitated for just a moment, looking beyond my mother to where Fae slept in the bassinet. I hated to leave her, but I knew I could trust my mother with her. I darted forward and snatched my mother in a quick embrace, dashing a kiss upon her cheek. “I love you,” I whispered in her ear.
Surprised, her arms came up behind my back to return the hug. “And I, you, darling.” She squeezed me tight to her. “Always.” I didn’t think I imagined that her voice was a bit watery with that last part.
After a quick kiss on Fae’s cheek, I sprinted toward the palace gates, seizing Jay's hand as I went. He fell into step beside me as we ran out, the guards at our heels.
My mother’s voice followed us. “But please,” she called after me, “for the love of the gods and all things holy, stay with Jay!”
My skirts swished around my ankles as I clutched them in my hands while we ran. “There are definitely no unicorns trapped yet?” I clarified, panting.
Jay shook his head. “No. No one’s been hurt. Not yet, anyway.” His tone was grim. “This isn’t like the single trap that got to the baby unicorn, Eliana,” he said. “This is a solid row of traps between the meadow and the city. If the unicorns keep to the skies, they'll be fine, but they have to come down sometime to eat. If we don't get to the traps first, it's only a matter of time.”
Eliana: Remembering Rumpelstiltskin (Kingdom of Fairytales Boxset Book 5) Page 7
