Eliana: Remembering Rumpelstiltskin (Kingdom of Fairytales Boxset Book 5)

by J. A. Armitage

  A chill raced through me. The unicorns might be gone for good by that point.

  There had to be another way.

  "There you are."

  I whirled around, and my mother stood in the aisle, smiling fondly at me.

  It was, I feared, a sign.

  I worried what would happen if I followed where it led. But I feared what would happen if I didn’t more.

  "You're so dedicated to this music quest of yours for the party, aren't you, darling? Are you looking for anything in particular?" Her hair was twisted up into an elegant chignon, and her neck elongated as she tilted her head at me in question. She ran her fingers along some of the books' spines. “This is my favorite section in the whole library, so I might be able to help, you know."

  "No, nothing in particular.”

  I lied through my teeth. I lied like a rug. I lied like Fae after a satisfying feeding. It was started to become natural, and I hated it. I hated feeling like a liar with every breath I took. And it was worse because I didn't just feel like one—I was one.

  It had been a moment since I'd spoken, and my mother reached out and touched my hand gently, jarring me from my thoughts. "Are you all right, darling?” She searched my eyes. “Where did you go just now?"

  I realized that my eyes were filled with tears, and I choked out a laugh. "Nowhere. I'm sorry." I pulled away and self-consciously rubbed at my eyes. But rubbing them didn’t rid me of the blasted things. I waved a hand, embarrassed as the tears started to fall. “Ignore me. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm sure it's just hormones."

  Such an easy excuse. Such baloney.

  Mother wouldn’t let me be self-conscious for long. She pulled me tight into her embrace. For a moment, I closed my eyes. I wished she could protect me from this. I had fought against her efforts for so long, but with my mother holding me, I just felt like a scared little girl—and like, somehow, my mama could make it all okay again.

  Her hand stroked down my hair. “Oh my sweet girl,” she murmured. “It is perfectly natural. I think you're missing your girl." She pulled back and smiled at me with great understanding. “Am I right? It's hard to be away from her, isn't it?"

  I sniffled and nodded, tears under control now. Fae wasn't the primary reason that I was crying, but I couldn't and wouldn’t tell Mother that. And she was right to an extent. Being away from Fae was hard. I couldn’t help but feel that seeing her at the end of this painfully long day would do me a world of good.

  Mother and I left the library and swept back to my suite of rooms. I thanked Judith for her time and dismissed her.

  I picked up Fae and bounced her a little in my arms. “Hello, baby girl. Did you miss me?”

  “It was a pleasure, Your Highness,” Judith said. “She was an angel.”

  The door clicked softly shut behind Judith, and, angel or not, she was my girl, and she was perfect exactly the way she was. I gathered Fae close to me and closed my eyes, just breathing in her scent. Already, I felt a little more calm, a little more settled after my mini-breakdown in the library.

  When I opened my eyes again, my mother was smiling at me fondly. "Better?" she asked.

  I returned her smile. "Much," I replied.

  Mother made a sweeping motion with her arms, indicating the door. "Shall we?" she asked.

  "We shall."

  With Fae strapped to my front in a baby wrap, I followed my mother down to the great hall.

  It was the most elegant room in the whole palace with high golden arches inlaid with carvings of flowers.

  "I had the palace staff set out our different options for dinnerware for the party, so we could see what we liked best." She picked up a puce-colored plate and made a face, turning it toward me so that I could get the full, unappealing effect. "I think we can safely rule this one out.”

  I nodded absently, agreeing with her decision. The truth was, my mind was on other things.

  I watched my mother thoughtfully as she moved down the line of plates and silverware, picking some up and moving them into the center of the table. Those were her rejects, I assumed, watching as olive green joined puce. The ones on the outer edges must still be in the running.

  But though I'd allowed myself for just a moment to forget about my quest and Rumpelstiltskin, it pushed itself to the forefront of my mind once again. Maybe I should just ask her if she'd heard of it. Mr. Swink was right; she was the most likely person to know it if it was anywhere in any of the music books in the library. And then she’d shown up during my search like a sign I felt I’d have to be foolish to ignore. I could ask her the question. It didn’t mean that I had to tell her its significance.

  I adjusted a piece of silverware that lay crooked on the table. She hadn’t gotten to this place setting yet, so it stood a better chance if it was arranged properly. "Mother," I started my lie. "I heard someone singing a tune the other day. I can't get it out of my head.”

  “I knew you were looking for something specific.” She turned, wagging a playful finger at me. “A mother always knows.”

  “Yeah, you were right.” I chuckled nervously. “Anyway, you offered to help, so I wondered if maybe you'd heard of it?"

  “Maybe," she said, turning back to her plates and silverware. She tilted her head speculatively at the plate in front of her. "How does it go?"

  I bit my lip and instantly undid the expression. If she turned around and caught me looking like that, she'd know right away that I was lying. "I can't remember exactly... but it mentioned something about Rumpelstiltskin?”

  Crash.

  The plate my mother had been holding fell to the floor and shattered as she whirled around to look at me. Her face was stark white.

  "Who?" she demanded, voice tremulous. When I didn't answer, she marched up to me, gripped me by the shoulders and shouted, "Who sang it, Eliana?"

  Fae woke with a start and immediately started wailing. I was speechless, gaping up at my mother. Her hands shook against me.

  I pulled her hands away and started bouncing Fae, making shushing, soothing sounds until she quieted down again. But my eyes stayed on my mother, who didn't even seem to hear her granddaughter’s cries. Blood had yet to return to her face as she watched me. She swallowed and asked again, this time quieter. "Who did you hear singing that song, Eliana? Did you see them?"

  Wordlessly, I shook my head. For once in the past several days, it wasn't a lie. I hadn't seen the mysterious singer. Wouldn't things be easier if I had?

  "That word has always been important to you," I said slowly. "It's meant something to you and Father in a way it never has to me. I've asked you before what it was, and you just told me it was something I should always remember. But I'm asking you again. What does it mean?"

  Her hands traveled up to cover her mouth, and she shook her head back and forth frantically. "I can't—no one should have ever—what if—"

  She was nearly hyperventilating, but somehow, she seized control of herself, took several deep breaths, and forced her hands back to her sides. Fists clenched there, she looked at me. And though it was obvious something had shaken her to her core, there was a steely resolve in her gaze.

  "My answer hasn't changed." She walked up to me once again and took me by the shoulders again—this time, more gently. She pressed a shaky kiss to my forehead. "Remember that word, my darling daughter." She looked down at Fae and brushed her thumb over her sweet little forehead.

  "Don't you ever, ever let yourself forget it."

  5

  3rd May

  Try as I might for the rest of the night, no matter how I pressed, my mother did not change her mind. She would not tell me what the word meant, or why it was of such importance to her that she'd been driven to decorate our home with it but would never actually clue me in on what it meant. We were equally stubborn, she and I. She’d instilled her own qualities in me. She kept determinedly trying to get me to answer her questions about place settings. She didn’t realize that this wasn’t a childish case of a daughter want
ing to know what her mother kept from her. There were real lives at stake in her answer. Unicorn lives.

  But I couldn’t tell her that.

  I gritted my teeth in frustration, thinking about it.

  She was wound as tightly as a spring. If she'd only relinquish a little bit of that control she held on to so desperately tightly, maybe she would feel better. We could have solved the problem of the unicorn trapping together. But noooo.

  So the next morning, I rang for Judith once again.

  Fae was awake when she got there, making little gurgling and cooing noises in my arms. Judith grinned from ear to ear when she saw her. “Twice in two days? I must be the luckiest nursemaid in the land.”

  Her smile and clear joy at seeing my daughter again warmed my heart. It was definitely far easier to leave Fae with someone like her, someone who enjoyed having her in her care.

  “I’ll be in the staviary today, should you need me,” I told Judith.

  “Very good, Your Highness.”

  Mother was as mulish as I was, but just because she wouldn’t answer my questions didn’t mean I was just going to give up. I had asked both her and Mr. Swink about Rumpelstiltskin, and the world hadn’t imploded. I could keep on asking questions, and maybe, eventually, I would find someone who was willing to answer them.

  Mother wouldn't help me, though it certainly seemed like she had the means to. So I was turning to the other person I trusted more than anything. A person that I would do almost anything for—and, I was pretty sure, someone who would do almost anything for me as well. That was Jay in a nutshell.

  I strode out of the palace with Avery and Williamson in tow, in search of Jay. I marched determinedly for the staviary, my stride businesslike and swift.

  When I got there, I found Jay hard at work. His brow was furrowed in concentration as the light behind him created a halo effect. I pulled up short, taken aback by the image. Sweat from the warm day and the manual labor had soaked his shirt and made it cling to him. I could see the outline of his undershirt beneath it and beneath that, I could see the hint of his abdominal muscles, flexing each time he leaned over and stood back up. A little ribbon of sweat snaked between his eyes, running into them. From the way he blinked, I thought the salt was probably stinging his eyes, and he swiped his forearm across them to rid himself of it. He heaved a pitchfork into a pile of hay and tossed it into a stall behind him, stocking the steed there—an average horse—with straw for the day.

  He still hadn’t noticed me. But gods, was I noticing him.

  Ogling Jay in his natural element wasn’t why I’d come here today, but it surprised me that my body could react the way it did to him. A flutter of excitement ran through me, and I had to take a deep breath to push it away.

  I cleared my throat to get his attention, and he looked up, a smile instantly blooming over his features when he saw me standing there. He stopped his work immediately and leaned his pitchfork against the wall. Then he leaned himself there as well, crossing his arms over his chest. "Eliana! Boys.” He nodded toward the guards, laughing when Avery rolled his eyes at the address. “Sorry. Men. What brings you to my humble staviary?”

  While he waited for my response, expression curious, he pushed his sleeves up to his elbows. I assumed it was to cool down a bit—his face was ruddy, and his shirt was flecked with little droplets of sweat. But I couldn't help but notice how big his hands were, how strong his forearms looked. My eyes lingered on the muscles corded through them.

  Not the time or place, Eliana, I warned myself. I still had a great deal of thinking to do about the situation with Jay. Every day, it seemed, I was growing more and more attracted to Jay. I wondered what his lips felt like. How his arms might feel around me. I needed to get a grip. I’d pushed myself to wonder what it would be like to date Jay, to think of him in that way, but now it seemed those thoughts were running rampant all by themselves.

  "Eliana?" Jay’s voice came, amused.

  I snapped back to attention and, eyes wide, whipped them up to meet Jay's gaze. His smile edged toward a smirk, but bless his heart, he did me the service of not pointing out how distracted I'd been. I colored. It was bad enough that he had noticed. My embarrassment would have been compounded tenfold if he’d said anything out loud.

  "Not that I'm complaining about a royal visit,” he drawled, “but is this a social visit, or did you need something? I notice Fae isn’t with you again.” He mock-glared at me accusingly. “Why do you deprive us of each other?”

  I shook my head, my hair getting in my eyes with the movement. I pushed it out of the way with impatient hands. I’d left Fae behind because I didn’t want to be distracted from my important task, but I’d allowed myself to be distracted anyway and womanhood—not motherhood—was all I could blame. It was time to get back on track for why I’d come here in the first place. ”I need you—your help," I swiftly swallowed down the slip. “It’s serious.”

  He sobered. The teasing smile on his face vanished as he nodded seriously and motioned me inside. "Let's talk inside. I need a drink of water anyway.” He nodded again to the guards. "You men are welcome to come in, as well, if you're parched. Have you got a canteen out here?“

  “We do,” Williamson replied.

  “No need, sir," Avery replied. "We'll let you and Her Highness talk. We’ll just be stationed outside in case she has need of us.” The guards took their duty to me seriously, but I knew that I was lucky they didn’t take it too far. Other guards might have, thirsting to prove themselves. But despite all that was going on in Vale, we still lived in a time of peace. If that should change, I knew the freedoms they let me enjoy would then be restricted considerably.

  I followed behind Jay, watching his back, and his long and confident stride as his legs ate up the distance between where we were and his office. An earthy aroma filled the air—a smell that was uniquely equine. Straw, a little manure, and something else I couldn’t put my finger on.

  Jay was so at ease here in the stables, I thought, watching him walk around. He patted horses as he passed, sneaking a few of them sugar cubes and carrots. He straightened a crooked sign and used his sleeve to wipe the sign outside his office clean. This truly was the work that he was meant to do. I didn’t mind admitting that I felt a little jealous. He had such purpose, such contentment. And he had the freedom to do the thing he loved. The closest I came to doing what I felt I was meant to do was lounging in the meadow with a unicorn.

  So finding the unicorns was the best thing I could do.

  Jay opened the door to his small office and gave me a little mock bow, motioning me inside. "Milady,” he said, deepening his voice playfully.

  I rolled my eyes, but played along, dropping him a facsimile of a curtsy and batting my eyelashes in an over the top coquettish imitation of some of the ladies I’d seen at court. "Good sir." I swept inside and balanced myself on the first seat that I saw: a little three-legged stool.

  Jay didn’t exactly have many seating options in here. It wasn’t a room meant for meetings with others. It was a place to get work done. The work that he couldn’t do out in the stalls, the work that required putting pen to paper and communicating with the outside world. Consequently, there wasn't much to the little office. There was a small table that served as his desk. Papers and order forms were strewn across it, half-completed. A haphazard stack of other papers sat in the top left corner nearest me.

  It was dim in here, but Jay didn’t light a lantern. Since it was daylight out, a little square window above us let in filtered, golden light that highlighted the dustiness of the window’s glass. Small particles of dust and dander danced in its beam. I watched the little ballet. It was a soft light, but plenty to illuminate the small space and see by.

  I turned my attention back to Jay as I heard a soft rattling sound. He was rummaging beneath his desk for something. Finally, he emerged with two tin cups and a small canteen. They pinged softly as he dropped them down on the table's surface, and he poured us each some water
.

  "Oh, I don't need—" I tried to protest, but he gave me a playful glare and wagged a finger at me in mock admonishment.

  “None of that now. I’m playing host to the unicorn princess of Vale, heir to our fair kingdom! The least I can do is offer you what little refreshment I have available. Don’t insult me by saying no.”

  I held my hands up and held my tongue. I thought Jay could probably use the water more than I could, but if he was sure there was enough here for the both of us, I wouldn’t protest any longer. Instead, I took my cup and gripped its metal handle between my fingers. I brought it to my lips and sipped at the water. It was clean and cool. It was a warm day, and it was refreshing, so I drank the whole glass down. I hadn’t realized that I actually had been a little thirsty. I waited with it clasped between my hands as Jay guzzled his own down and then poured another.

  "Would you like anymore?" he asked.

  "Oh, no, no.” I waved a hand, shaking my head. “You were doing manual labor. Drink up. I’m good."

  "Thanks." The sound of his cup filling was the only sound in the room for a moment but for the distant sounds of a barn.

  "So." Jay’s cup scraped along his desk as he brought it to his lips for another drink. "What can I do for you, Unicorn Princess?" He set his cup down and quirked a smile.

  I couldn’t have asked for a better segue. “Funny you should mention my hated nickname," I said. "It's actually the unicorns that I'm here about."

  He sobered and straightened in his seat, moving his cup out of the way to lean closer. “What about them? Is there news? Has there been any sight of the ones who disappeared yet? Or the trapper?”

  “I wish.” I shook my head. And then worry streaked through me as a new concern occurred to me. I’d checked on them before, but… "What about the ones here? Baby and Zacarina?"

  "Zacarina?" he asked, incredulous, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. "Boy, Fae sure got off easy with her name. Remind me not to let you name any of my kids, will you?“