The Prince and Her Dreamer
Page 6
"I suppose Fritz will appreciate having you around the house when he marries. You'll be a great help to his household—" There was a quiver in her voice.
"Mother—" Clara began, reaching towards her.
She turned away, rising from the sofa. "Please. I'd like some time for myself to think about this development, and to ponder what I am to write to poor Archie's family. I just hope you don't regret the choices you're making now when they've left you isolated from the world."
It could have been worse, Clara thought, slowly ascending the stairs. She could have disowned me—she could have banished me onto the streets…I just hope she’s wrong. Even if I'm alone forever, I'll have people I care about. I'll help the children of the streets, care for Fritz's household. I won't give in to grief over my lost dream of a beautiful prince. I won't lock myself away.
Resolute, she dragged herself to her room. Tomorrow she would begin researching the local organizations and making enquiries. Even if she died an unmourned spinster decades from now, she'd do some good. A man marries a woman, and they live in an ordinary house on an ordinary street, and they're proud of their ordinary children? That's not for me. Even if life didn't contain princes who flew flying sledges and battled seven-headed rat kings, Clara knew it could be a thousand times better and more interesting than wedding a man.
Clara was so intent on her plans, she didn't even notice the portal opening right in front of her.
"Ah, there you are," Ross said, a wicked gleam in his eye—and he truly was Ross, not Drosselmeyer, for he looked at least a score of years younger. His hair was red instead of white and fell over his shoulders in impeccable waves.
Clara's mouth fell open. She looked from him to the swirling vortex and back again. Excitement became a flock of butterflies within her chest. Before she could ask a question or even gasp in amazement, his surprisingly strong grip took hold of her and hauled her through.
*~*~*
The portal opened on an unsuspecting Mathilde, who was at her desk shuffling through papers. At once she sprang up, her hand on her sword hilt, but her bearing softened when she realized who it was.
"I was so worried, Clara. I wondered if—if I'd ever—" She wrapped her arms around Clara and buried her face in Clara's hair. "Ross refused to tell me what happened to you. I tried several times, but he just got all fae and changed the subject."
"Why would you have lied to her?" Clara asked, astounded and unmoving even as Mathilde stood beside her. "Moreover—why lie to me? I felt so alone, so betrayed—"
He shrugged, and his cloak rippled like a bat's wings. "I wanted to make sure that your bravery with the Rat King wasn't just a singular incident. That, if your connection with Mathilde remains, you had what it takes to rule beside her."
Clara lifted her head, defiant. "When I was a child—you always listened to me, even when no one else would. When my own parents said that I talked too much or read too much, you were the one who believed in me and said I was perfect just as I was. I trusted you more than anyone on Earth."
"Ross. I know how much you care about the kingdom, but this time, you've gone too far." Mathilde enfolded Clara in a protective embrace.
He blinked down at them both, as if he didn't fully hear what they were saying. "But she passed my test, just like you passed yours. She's here now. What's to worry about?"
"Leave us," Mathilde commanded, soft but unmistakable.
He did so without protest or complaint. The door closed behind him.
Although Clara didn't hope to repair things with her mother, she thought Ross would eventually come around. Unlike her conversation with her mother, which had been full of omissions, the air fogged with words unspoken, at least everything she said to her uncle would stem from a place of total truth.
"I'll shout at him, I promise. I'll challenge him to a duel if I have to. Ross can be a prat, but he tends to realize the error of his ways when I have my sword at his throat. We shan't both be orphans, Clara-my-love," Mathilde told her.
Love, Clara thought. The one word filled her up with light. "What do we do now?"
"The portal won't be open again for a few days. I suppose as far as your family knows, you just saw your uncle and stepped out to greet him—then something kept you from coming back. But we can draft a brilliant cover story. I've been looking at some books on your world, and I could be an Italian count who you fell madly in love with as we wandered through the snow together, and I've swept you away to my chateau in the woods."
"They'll believe you, especially if you send a finely dressed messenger to deliver it…but I wish I could tell my family everything. I wish Fritz could see this. He'd love it here—the sledges, the uniforms, the crystal unicorns."
Mathilde nodded, her dark eyes gentle. "We'll make everything right eventually. Even if your mother never understands, children are good listeners. I know Ross too well to believe he'll let Fritz absorb any of your world's prejudices. And Admiral Evans and Tisaine…they may not be the people I remember, but they're still the people I cherish. They're already fond of you, too. There are hundreds of people in this kingdom who care deeply about you, even if you haven't met all of them yet. I promise even if you end up as much of an orphan as I am, you're not alone."
Later that day, Clara opened her first belated Christmas present from the people of the kingdoms: a long wool coat, and it was as splendid and scarlet as Mathilde's own.
FIN
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kayla Bashe studies theater at Sarah Lawrence College, where she collects indie comics and teaches herself how to make flower crowns. Her mystery novella Graveyard Sparrow comes out in July 2015 from Torquere Press, and her story A Muse Afire was featured on the cover of Vitality Magazine’s first full issue. Recently, she self-published a queer superhero romance, To Stand In The Light, which is available through Kindle. She is an alumna of the Alpha Sci-Fi, Fantasy, and Horror Workshop For Young Writers.