“Prince Popinjay is here to see you, Princess.”
“Thank you, Hudson. Can you please have Violet bring the tea?”
“Yes, right away, Princess.”
Tulip motioned to the pink satin divan, inviting him to take a seat. “Please.” She perched next to him, hardly knowing what to say. She had always been terrible at that sort of thing, making small talk. Small talk always seemed, well, small. Empty little diversions with chatter about the weather, platitudes to pass the time. But that was what ladies were expected to speak of, not of the giants that ruled the lands hundreds of years before, or the wars they fought with Oberon and the Tree Lords of the north. Those, however, were the things that inspired her, truly fascinated her, and she wanted to know what inspired him.
Violet fortunately came into the room with the tea, which further delayed Tulip’s having to make conversation.
“Thank you, Violet, you can place it there.”
Violet set the tea tray on the round table before them with a slight clatter.
“I’m so sorry, Princess!”
Tulip didn’t mind if those cups became chipped. In fact, she’d like to toss them into the sea. It was her least favorite set, because its pink flower pattern reminded her of the Beast prince. She would have to remember to have Violet set out the black-and-silver set the next day for the solstice.
“Not to worry, Violet, that will be all. I will pour.” With slightly trembling hands, Tulip poured some tea for the prince. “How do you take it?” she asked.
“With cream and sugar, please, my lady,” croaked Prince Popinjay.
She handed him the cup, set upon the matching saucer, willing her hands not to shake and herself to say something. Anything!
“My mother was sorry she couldn’t be here to receive you. She is away visiting her sister Queen Leah.”
Prince Popinjay was staring at the contents of his cup, too bashful to meet Tulip’s gaze and too afraid to speak, should his voice crack again. It seemed Tulip wasn’t alone in her nervousness or distaste for small talk.
“She’s suffered much sorrow, my aunt. I’m sure you’ve heard what’s happened to her daughter?”
Popinjay looked up from the exceedingly interesting contents of his teacup and bravely met Tulip’s gaze.
“I was very sorry to hear about your cousin.” And he continued: “Though I am very pleased you invited me today, Tulip. I was rather surprised when you did.”
Tulip’s face flushed, making her feel uncomfortable. She wanted to run away.
He’s just a prince. Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself.
She wanted to be anywhere but there, far away from the prince, with his beautiful haunting gray eyes, in a place where there were no princes at all. Surely there had to be such a place, where there was no reason to make idle small talk about the goings-on in neighboring kingdoms.
“I was reading about the history of your kingdom and its lands and I found it very fascinating. Did you know there was a great battle fought here?”
With a smile, she asked, “Which one? There were several.”
“Oh, I am particularly intrigued by the battle between the Tree Lords and the giants, but they’re all so compelling, don’t you think?”
And suddenly, Tulip didn’t feel the need to flee. In fact, there wasn’t a single place in all the kingdoms she’d rather be than with the handsome prince with the haunting gray eyes.
Pflanze had been waiting by a castle door for her witches to arrive when in a flash she saw the home she shared with the odd sisters perched on the Morningstar cliffs right above the turbulence of Ursula’s watery domain, as if it had always been there.
Perhaps if she hadn’t been privy to how her witches’ magic worked, she would have thought it had always been there; surely that was what the humans would think, and always had thought the many years Pflanze had been traveling with her witches. As much as she had grown to love Nanny and Tulip, she really did miss her witches. She greeted them with her large black-rimmed golden eyes speckled with green. She was sitting almost too perfectly, her white paws primly placed before her while she watched her witches walk the path leading to the castle gate.
“Pflanze, hello!” screamed Martha. “We missed you!” The castle grounds were covered in a light dusting of snow, which was unusual for the coastal kingdom, and the sisters knew a witch was behind it, but who?
The snow clung to the witches’ ringlets, looking rather striking in their pitch-black hair. The sisters had almost forgotten it was the winter solstice, with all their fretting over Circe and their dealings with Ursula. Luckily, they had thought to change from their tattered red dresses into their black silks, which were embroidered with many tiny silver stars cascading across their bodices and onto their voluminous skirts, invoking an enchanted evening sky. The three of them walked as one, as they often did, and seemed to be taking in the splendor of the castle, which was truly magnificent and shining like a beacon of beauty and light. The sky, they thought, was particularly breathtaking at twilight; it was their magic hour, when everything looked perfect and they felt anything was possible. It had been many years since the sisters were invited to call upon royalty, not since they had visited their cousin the old king, father to Snow White.
Visits from the odd sisters had become a thing of dread in most royal circles, so the sisters hardly knew how to act, having actually been invited and made to feel welcome by those not of their ilk. Though they wondered….Something was amiss; there was someone of their ilk nearby. They thought they had sensed it while approaching the castle grounds, but figured they were just sensing Ursula nearby.
But it wasn’t Ursula, was it? It was something else.
Someone else.
Someone completely unexpected. The sisters looked frantically about them, searching the sky for crows, wondering where Maleficent was hiding. Had she enchanted their companion to trick them into some sort of trap?
Pflanze adjusted her paws, and if cats could have done such things, she would have shaken her head at her mistresses. She almost wished she could let this hilarity continue, seeing her witches twitch and shudder about, searching in vain for Maleficent and her crows, but they hadn’t time.
It’s not the Dark Fairy, my witches. It’s her, the One of Legends. Pflanze saw the looks on her witches’ faces and knew they understood. Good, she thought. Now let’s hope they can put their differences aside long enough to deal with this problem.
They hadn’t time to dwell on past events. It was going to be difficult enough without Nanny and the odd sisters sniping at each other over some long-forgotten dealings, even with the Morningstars out of the way, with the king on business, the queen shipped off to her sister’s to calm her nerves, and Tulip entertaining Prince Popinjay for tea.
“So where is she, then?” asked Lucinda, but she saw for herself. Tulip’s nanny, with her silver hair and snow-white paper-thin skin, looked impossibly old, older perhaps than she herself knew. She was standing at the threshold with a broad smile and a twinkle in her eye, waiting to welcome them.
“Hello, sisters. Come in. You are most welcome.” The sisters and their beautiful cat followed Nanny into the grand vestibule. The entire castle was filled with candlelight, casting an unearthly glow on the ladies that softened their features, reminding the sisters of their younger days. “The castle looks beautiful,” said Ruby, admiring the light dancing on the walls.
“Queen Morningstar regrets not greeting you herself. She is currently recovering from recent events abroad with her sister, who, as you know, is in need of consoling herself.” The sisters knew of whom she was speaking but didn’t say. It was Nanny’s way of letting them know she remembered what had transpired between them so many years earlier.
“We’re happy you found a nice place for yourself here with Tulip. You were always very good with children and domestic concerns,” said Lucinda, wondering how much Nanny remembered.
“It looks like you keep to the old customs here, I
’m happy to see. Not even Snow White’s stepmother could make a better spectacle of the solstice,” said Lucinda as they made their way into the sitting room.
Nanny smiled.
“Please sit down. We have so much to discuss.”
Lucinda didn’t like being ordered about but decided Nanny was simply being cordial, so the three sisters sat as one on a beautiful red velvet divan across from Nanny. It was quite the picture, the three of them in their splendid black silks sitting on the red divan. Nanny mused they looked like black hollyhocks on a bed of bloodstained earth. Pflanze listened to the witches’ thoughts. As always, she carefully kept her own thoughts to herself. She didn’t want the sisters to hear this in fragments or random musings. She didn’t want to send them into a panic, rendering them useless to everyone, including themselves.
“Pflanze, why are you here? Why did you send for us?” “Yes, Pflanze, why? Why did you leave when Ursula told us her story?” “We were worried about you! Slinking off like a nasty little creature, making us worry when we have so many other things on our minds!” “It’s not like you! Not at all. Please explain yourself!”
Pflanze was silent.
“What’s wrong with her? Why won’t she speak? Have you done something to our Pflanze?”
The sisters rose from the bloodred divan, ready to pounce on Nanny.
“Sit down! Pflanze is fine! We have something important to show you.”
“So, the One of Legends has something to show us? She has much to say? When we already have so many important things to do on this day?”
Ruby’s eyes widened with glee. “Oh! We’re finally rhyming again? How charmingly delightful!” She was clapping with utter joy. She had been waiting for Lucinda to break the strange means of communication she’d been using since Circe’s departure.
Martha jumped up from her seat and started stamping her boots, making a terrible clicking noise. “The sisters are free to rhyme at last! Our mundane ways are a thing of the past!” Ruby gave her sister a disappointed look. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit out of practice!” But Ruby joined her sister anyway, and they sung and stomped their feet in a cacophonous choir of bedlam that echoed throughout the castle. They were having the most fun they’d had since Circe left, and they were enjoying themselves thoroughly—until Tulip burst into the room.
“What is going on here, ladies?” The sisters looked at the angelic bunny-faced girl like she was an insect, an alien species, which she was when you thought of it—at least to the sisters. After all, everyone within the room was magical except for Tulip, who, by the look on her face, didn’t know what to make of the scene, with these strange, deranged women, whoever they might be, jumping up and down like madwomen. Or better, frenzied marionettes who had taken on lives of their own.
Nanny tried to divert Tulip’s attention.
“My dear, have you left Popinjay to his own devices alone in the morning room?”
“No, Nanny, of course not. He’s left,” she said rather offhandedly, distracted by these strange sisters who were stomping and singing the castle down.
“Ladies, please. Stop this at once. You’re going to step on my cat!” snapped Tulip.
The odd sisters froze, their faces stern and filled with contempt. They resembled baleful dolls, staring at Tulip with their bulging eyes. “Your cat?” asked Lucinda, giving Tulip a deadly look.
“Yes, my cat! Now kindly step away from her before you stomp on her with your pointy boots!”
“Lucinda, you will not touch her. She was almost killed by your wicked meddling with the Beast prince. I won’t have you hurting my precious girl again!” Tulip had never heard Nanny speak so seriously in all the years she’d known her, not even when she’d confronted Ursula.
“What has she to do with the Beast?” asked Tulip, looking from the sisters to her nanny, confounded. “Who are these women?”
Nanny placed her hand on Tulip’s arm to calm her.
“They are Circe’s sisters, dear. They’re here to help us find her.”
Circe’s sisters? Can that be true? Tulip looked at the odd sisters, for surely they were sisters. They had to be; they looked exactly like each other in every respect. There was something sinister about them, something foul. She didn’t like the look of them now that she had a chance to take in the entire scene. Their hair was black as a bucket of tar, their skin was white as a cuttlefish bone, and their overly large eyes were lined with black, making them look rather more deep-set than they ought to have been. They were painfully thin, these sisters, with long skeletal hands adorned with rings that hung loose on their bony fingers.
It looked as though a necromancer had summoned them from the grave for the Samhain ball. There was no way the frightful hags were related to Circe.
No way at all.
“Be careful, dear, or we might take the bell in your soul,” said Lucinda, laughing.
“Blight her, Lucinda! She’s stolen our cat!” “We can boil her in oil and give her bones to the Romanian witch as an offering!”
“Calm yourselves, Sisters,” said Lucinda, laughing. “She’s stolen nothing. Remember, our Pflanze lived in the Beast prince’s castle when he was engaged to Tulip. She didn’t know she belonged to us. How could she?”
Nanny was surprised that Lucinda was being so sensible. Still, Ruby and Martha were seized by little twitches, trying to contain their anger. They had been so reserved the past several months, so quiet, so unlike themselves. It took all their willpower to keep themselves from opening a door to Hades right there and then and shoving the little brat within so they’d never have to see her stupid angelic face again.
“Watch your thoughts, good sisters,” warned Nanny.
“So the One of Legends has remembered she’s a telepathist.”
Tulip felt she might be losing her mind.
“Who is this One of Legends they speak of?” she asked.
The sisters laughed. Tulip’s head spun; she felt like she was caught within their laughter and she would never escape.
“Why, it’s your dear sweet nanny. Didn’t you know, my dear? She’s a witch like…us.” Martha cackled.
Tulip backed away from the witches as if they were deadly serpents.
“You’re what?”
The witches could see Tulip trying to take it all in. Nanny felt she had made a horrible mistake not sending Tulip away while she dealt with this matter. She hadn’t wanted to diminish the princess’s chances with Popinjay, but this wasn’t working. It was a disaster. There was far too much to explain to Tulip to make her understand, and they were losing time.
“I’m sorry, my dear heart, but I think it’s time for you to sleep.”
Tulip looked dazed, as if in a waking dream. “Yes, if you’ll excuse me, I think I will go rest now.”
With a kiss for her nanny, Tulip went off to her rooms, where she would stay until Nanny went to wake her.
“I see you remember how to put young girls to sleep,” said Lucinda, laughing. It had been a very long time since Lucinda had laughed; she had laughed more on that day than she had in several months and thought it was a very fine thing. Her sisters seemed to agree, because they joined her. Their laughter swelled and fed upon itself, becoming louder and wickeder until it filled the entire sitting room, shaking it and rattling the chandeliers.
No, witches, no!
It was Pflanze, making her thoughts known to all the witches.
You will catch this beautiful room on fire! she said, looking up at the chandelier bouncing about, jostling the lit candles.
“Ladies, tea is waiting for us in the solarium. The view is much better there and the room is less, ah…combustible,” said Nanny as the footmen came into the room. She turned to them. “The princess is very vexed from her ordeals over the past several days, so I gave her something to soothe her nerves. Could you please tell Rose to make sure she’s made it to her rooms?”
“Yes, mum.”
“Now, let’s go help ourselves to some tea.”
The witches made their way to the solarium down a long hallway with striking murals, which looked particularly lovely in the golden candlelight. Tea was waiting for them, with tiny pink frosted cakes, scones with clotted cream and lemon curd, and a beautiful cherry and walnut cake. Ruby sneakily slipped one of the black-and-silver teacups into her purse while fawning over the selection of confections.
“What a lovely tea, Nanny. Very thoughtful.”
The main room was astonishingly beautiful, with its glass-domed ceilings and breathtaking view of the rest of the Lighthouse of the Gods. The twilight sky was darkening, and sunset was almost upon them. The witches were growing nervous about the part they must play in Ursula’s plot.
“That’s why we’re here, sisters. We know what you’re planning with Ursula.”
Lucinda was quick to anger. “Has the Dark Fairy contacted you, then? Did she send you her odious warning, as well?”
Nanny hadn’t heard from the Dark Fairy in ages. In fact, she had forgotten all about her until recently, much like her powers. She had lost her memories before coming to the Morningstar court.
“No, I can’t imagine she’d be involved with this madness,” she said as Martha scoffed.
“She was always a favorite of yours, wasn’t she? Always so perfect. She could never do wrong in your eyes, not even when she destroyed the Fairylands in a fit of rage.”
Nanny sighed. “I thought she was your friend.”
“And so she is,” said Lucinda. “But I won’t have her interfering with our plans to find Circe! She has crossed the line with us far too many times. It’s time she was knocked down from the lofty place she’s set herself upon!”
Nanny was growing impatient.
“We’re not here to discuss Maleficent! Her story is too long and complicated to debate in the time we have left, but I am interested in this warning she sent you.”
Lucinda rolled her eyes. “It was nothing. I won’t discuss it.”
Then, giving Nanny a sly look, she continued. “I’d rather discuss how you came to remember who you are. How long were you here among the Morningstars, not knowing your own powers? Not remembering?” She smiled. “I wonder just how much you truly remember.”
Poor Unfortunate Soul Page 8