The Puppet Queen: A Tale of the Sleeping Beauty

by Mira Zamin

  ***

  “Roselyn, have you heard?” asked Oelphie, her brown eyes twinkling excitedly as she served breakfast that morning. She was the cook’s assistant and because of our close ages and sympathy born of the singular experience of working for Madame, we had become friends.

  “I just awoke Oelphie. So no, I have not heard,” I said, still cheery with hope. I sliced bread and fruit for myself.

  “That curse, that Aquian curse. It has been fulfilled. Every single person there is sleeping. Not a man, woman or dog awake.”

  Her report was like a strike to the face. It was strange hearing of such a long-dreaded reality.

  Oblivious, she continued. “All of them except those that had left the emirdom apparently. Seems nobody thought that just leaving could have thwarted the curse, but, I heard from Jaqes who has just come from Aquia, that Lord Gwydion, the one that was betrothed to the Princess Selene? Well, he has been out of the emirdom, probably still searching for her. Isn’t that romantic? Anyways, upon hearing that all of Aquia had fallen asleep, including the ruling family and the Thirds Council, he declared himself the Emir of Aquia by right of betrothal and said he would officially renew the search for Princess, now Emira, Selene so she could rule beside him.”

  The ruling family. My hopes died a mewling death, blackening and curling into themselves like burning paper. “Well. How did Jaqes hear all of this?” I managed.

  “He heard it from Gwydion’s men themselves. Jaqes had stopped at an inn, right here in Clemen, for a cup of ale where Gwydion and his men are staying until the day is over so they can ride to Aquia safely and secure it.”

  I tried to take deep calming breaths. But what was I to do?

  Why could it not have been anyone else looking for me, some member of my family? Why was Gwydion the one the Seasons blessed with avoiding the curse? And look at how neatly it worked out for him, the bastard. I wondered if he had known from the beginning or if his escape had been an unhappy accident of fate.

  “Does Queen Erina not have anything to say about this?” I demanded. I tried to focus my energies on feeling annoyed instead of devastated. At least then I could function, could think.

  “Well.” Oelphie pursed her lips in thought. “It would seem that they would need someone to rule Aquia and since Lord Gwydion does have the closest claim other than Emira Selene, should she still be alive…”

  The temptation was looming, and after so many years of secrecy, I could stay quiet no more. “Oelphie.” Deep breaths. “I am, well, I was, I suppose, but…”

  “Yes?” Oelphie said eagerly.

  “Selene. Selene. I am Selene.” A great, chest-binding heaviness evaporated.

  Oelphie pumped a fist in the air, shrieking. I tipped backwards in my chair. “I knew it! You looked so like the descriptions and you arrived just as she had disappeared.”

  I winced. “Do you think anyone else guessed?”

  She shook her head. “I do not think anyone paid that much attention.”

  “Oh.” I frowned at the thought.

  What I had to do became suddenly obvious.

  “Just…do not say anything. I need to reach the Aquian border before midnight tonight, before Gwydion arrives there. Once I cross the border, it is only a few hours ride to the Mehal, and once I am at the palace, I would like to see him try to take my birthright away from me, no matter what army of thugs he surrounds himself with,” I announced boldly. From the corner of my eye, a shadow twitched.

  Oelphie and I were conversing giddily when we heard a knock at the kitchen backdoor. Thoughtlessly, I answered it.

  And there stood Gwydion.

  I froze, feeling his eyes rake me up and down. I mirrored him. He had grown taller, and his shoulders and chest had broadened. He looked more mature and quite frankly, very handsome.

  I locked the door.

  But he was not deterred for he began fearsomely pounding on the door.

  “Oelphie,” I hissed. “It’s Gwydion.”

  Her eyes widened. “Go to your room. I will not let him in.”

  “Who is that?” Madame called irritably. “I am preparing for the wedding and I want no interruptions.”

  I frantically thought of an excuse. “Just some beggars, Madame.”

  In a very unusual gesture, Madame said, “Let them in, and give them something to eat. Today is after all a wedding day. One would not wish to jinx it by being miserly! I will not have anyone saying that the House of Wiqf is not generous.” (‘Generous when thou wed, bountiful be thy marital bed’ is a common Clemenite saying.)

  Ignoring her command, I scurried to my room, heart thumping uncontrollably. I suddenly had a great deal of empathy for hunted and cornered animals. My heart nearly gave out when I looked out the window and saw Gwydion peering in. Every muscle hummed with tension. Should I run? Should I brazen it out? Should I hide? All I wanted to do was close my eyes and will him away. When I opened my eyes next, he was gone from my window, but I knew enough not to let my body sag with relief.

  My door was pushed ajar. The sliver widened until Gwydion himself walked through. “My dear Selene.” He hugged me, a little too tightly, a little too hard. In my ear though he whispered, “You cooperate, otherwise I will make certain that you regret it.”

  I tried to elbow out of his grasp. “Really. How do you plan on managing that?” I retorted with more braveness than my shaking legs would indicate.

  Whipping me around, he kicked the door open. “With them.” He was referring to the ten or so guard that accompanied him. Down to the man, each was fierce and armed.

  For the first time I felt a hysterical bubble of fear. He would not, would he? He would not kill me?

  “Gwydion, I am certain this is some misunderstanding. I...I have lived here without disturbing you for years. I see no reason to change a pattern that has worked so well.”

  “I have had this house watched for a while now,” he said. “And when I heard that you had made plans to take Aquia, well, I knew it was time to move. Now, chin up. We both have the same destination.”

  Roughly, he grabbed my arm and guided me outside. I wrapped my cloak around me more tightly. Autumn chill was beginning to bite though the air like a crisp apple. I could not shout for help, not with Gwydion surrounded by a band of ruffians. I hoped the Clemen town guard would see me, I hoped someone, anyone would save me.

  “You can cooperate and ride on your horse, or, I will bind you to my person and we can share a horse.” He gestured towards the white stallion held by one of his guardsmen.

  “Oh Gwyd. Where did that charm of yours go?”

  With a flourish, he presented me with a posy of yellow and blue flowers. Intently gazing into my eyes, he pressed them into my hand.

  I refused to yield to such obvious tactics.

  “I assure you, I am still very charming.”

  I took the blossoms. “Well, I assure you that first impressions are everything and you had better charm me now if you desire my cooperation.”

  Gwydion smiled easily. “How can I correct this first impression, my dear Emira Selene?”

  Oh, he certainly thought he was such a darling, did he not? Two can play at that game. “Well.” I fluttered my eyelashes at him, trying to inject the proper amount of simpering. “You did give me quite a scare you know.” I traced the edge of his jacket with a finger. “Why, I hardly recognized you, you have grown so handsome.”

  “Your games will not work, Selene,” Gwydion said, but he smiled.

  I looked up at him through my eyelashes. “What games?” I asked innocently. “All I want is to be able to get home comfortably. Would you dreadfully mind ordering me a carriage?”

  He preened, seemingly somewhat taken in by my simpering belle act. How long exactly before Gwydion’s cannier instincts got the better of him? And how long would I be able to maintain it? Already, it grated on my nerves and pride. Acting as a working-class girl was one thing; pretending to be a vapid minx for his benefit made my skin
crawl.

  “Quite a change of heart,” Gwydion remarked, wrapping a lock of my hair around his finger. Nonetheless, he seemed pleased with himself and the sway he no doubt believed he held over all women.

  I abstained from rolling my eyes. “I should like to say goodbye now. Otherwise, they will worry.”

  Gwydion consented, but added, “The house is surrounded, do not make an attempt to escape.”

  So perhaps he was not as easily lured in as I thought. Well, thank goodness. That would just be embarrassing. “As if I would ever wish to escape from your arms now that I have found you again.”

  Ugh. I had barely managed that without gagging on my words.

  I swiftly walked away before he could see the face I had pulled. I certainly could not maintain this façade for long. Every word was like drinking bitter dregs. Gathering a few remaining items, I took one last look at the small, tidy chamber, with its wood floors and dark blue curtains, that had been my home for two years. I would miss it. I would never be so free again.

  I rushed to Oelphie in the kitchen. “Gwydion is taking me back to Aquia. And I do not know what will happen from there. I do not know what I will do now, but you don’t worry about that.” I gave her a quick hug. “I shall miss you.”

  “Should I call the town guards? Or Corec? That lord cannot take you like this!” She embraced me tightly.

  Thinking of the armed men at Gwydion’s disposal, I knew that any altercation would only end in injury for my defenders. “I will be fine,” I lied. “Do not worry. We shall meet again, and in a palace next time, I promise. You will come live with me!” I began backing out of the door.

  She giggled with delight. “Don’t tease!”

  “I would do no such thing!” I replied, rushing forth for one last hug. “I promise. We shall meet again.”

  I left the townhouse as a heavy sadness sank into me. I had been free here, had proven that I could live independently, free of the shadow of the Khamad family name—and the Pari curse. And if, I reasoned with myself, shaking the darkness, I, as a foolish sixteen year old managed to make a good and proper living for myself for over two years, relying only on my wits, I can also conquer this situation.

  “Gwydion…some of my clothes are at an inn here; I should like to stop by and pick them up.” I flipped my hair back in a manner I remembered he liked. I had flirted and danced and more with men at taverns, but there was something more real about engaging with Gwydion like this. Perhaps it indicated a deeper sentiment.

  Or maybe it is because your entire fate hangs in the balance.

  He bowed. “Of course.”

  Saying hasty farewells to Abarta and Constansia, I gathered my belongings under their bewildered gazes. Oelphie would explain it to them when the time came. Under the pretense of escorting me out of the inn, Gwydion pinned me to his side. A drop of cold rain slipped through my hair and down my back. Bundling me into the waiting carriage, to which Cinnamon had been hitched, he locked the door.

  He smiled.

  Chapter Eight