“Improves the flavor,” replied Bloom.
Amelliea cried out in pain. Two sharp fangs began to extend down from her upper teeth over her bottom lip. She screamed, and half way through, the sound turned into a growl.
“Hang in there just a while longer, I’m almost done!” rushed Bloom. He looked over the recipe once more. “Drat!” he swore. “I need unicorn hoof powder to complete it!”
“You don’t have any?” cried Amelliea, her fingers flexing and her eyes glowing yellow. The moon was visible through the window. It was almost full.
“How could I? The last unicorn died centuries ago! I must find an adequate substitute!”
There was a knock at the door.
“Just a moment,” called Bloom. He searched through his pack, throwing everything out on the floor.
“It hurts!” cried Amelliea, as claws broke through the tips of her fingers in place of her human fingernails.
The knock was repeated, this time much louder. “Open the door! Having gotten the news that her daughter was unwell, the Queen decided to look in on Amelliea. “Let us in, or we’ll break down the door!” said the voice of a guard.
“Coming!” shouted Bloom, shaking his bag upside-down. A tiny glass vial of silver-green leaves fell to the floor and rolled across the wood. “Sage!” whispered Bloom. “That should do it!”
“You sound unsure—” cried Amelliea, arching her back in pain.
“I’m positive it will work. Sage was what wizards used when laws were passed to keep them from killing unicorns for their hooves.”
“Open this door at once!” said the Queen’s own voice from the other side of the door.
Bloom yanked out the cork from the mouth of the vial with his teeth and shook the tiny bottle over the caldron. The potion hissed and bubbled as it received its final ingredient. The guards began breaking down the door with a series of jarring thuds. Bloom poured what remained of the pure water in the pitcher into a ceramic mug. Using a dropper, he took a single dollop of the potion and dripped it into the mug. The water within briefly radiated with luminous rays, and then became still and normal-looking once more. The wizard handed the mug to his daughter, helping her sit up in the bed. “Drink this,” he said. Amelliea grabbed the mug with her clawed hands and began to drink, slowly at first, and then so thirstily that the water ran down her chin and fangs spilling onto her dress. Bloom used a levitation spell to remove the potion from the cauldron, not wanting to spill a single drop of it. The levitating potion charged out of the caldron and swooped in the air, before plunging into the tall glass bottle that Bloom held up in his hands. The container corked itself firmly closed, and Bloom hid the bottle of potion away in the drawer of the nightstand. He quickly kicked his scattered belongings under the bed just as the chamber door was broken open and the enraged Queen rushed in, followed by her many guards.
“What is going on in here?” demanded the Queen.
Bloom rose from the edge of Amelliea’s bed as though he had been sitting there the whole time. He bowed low to the Queen. “Your Majesty,” he said. “I’m sorry I could not get to the door sooner to let you in, Amelliea was feeling faint and I could not bare to leave her side.”
The Queen looked suspiciously around the room. Nothing seemed particularly out of order. The room smelled of mint. “If you ever frighten me like that again I’ll—” she began.
“You’ll what?” asked Amelliea, who was feeling noticeably better. Her eyes and hands were back to normal, and even her teeth had returned to their usual length.
The Queen shot the girl a dangerous glance. “Are you alright, my child?” she asked.
Amelliea covered her mouth with her hand and yawned, “I’m well, though I am feeling very tired.” She yawned again. Her eyelids drooped, and her chin nodded forwards abruptly, as if she were struggling to remain awake.
The Queen stared at Bloom in horror. “What have you done to her?” she asked.
“Nothing, I made for her a soothing batch of herb tea,” answered Bloom.
“It’s true,” vouched a maid who had come in with the guards, “I brought him the cauldron, the water, and the herbs myself.”
The Queen viciously grabbed the maid’s arm and twisted it over, “How many times must you be told? You are to speak only when you are spoken too! I will not tolerate such mutinous behavior!”
The maid writhed in pain. “Yes, my Queen!” the woman whimpered helplessly.
“Let her go! She was only trying to help!” cried Amelliea weakly reaching out from the bed. Amelliea opened and closed her eyes slowly as though overcome with a powerful wave of fatigue, and then without another word she fell back against her pillow and was immediately fast asleep, her body relaxing in a single instant.
The Queen released the maid. Her green eyes livid with rage, she tested Bloom with a searching glance. “Next time, do not delay to do exactly as I command, for your insubordinate behavior is awfully suspicious.”
“Dually noted, your Highness,” said Bloom politely, as the Queen left his chamber, followed by the guards and the maid who rubbed her aching wrist.
Amelliea slept for many hours, and when she awoke she felt groggy and tired. Bloom was reading by candlelight when she awoke. Noticing his daughter stir he came over and sat once more on the edge of the bed. He took Amelliea’s pulse. “Looks like you’re cured,” he said.
Amelliea smiled. “How many spells did you have to use?” she asked in concern.
“Not many,” said Bloom, waving her away. He opened the drawer in the bedside table and held up the bottle of potion.
“It’s so pretty,” said Amelliea, taking it from him to admire the swirling silver liquid inside the glass.
“Yes, and it is very concentrated.”
“Why did you make so much?” she asked. “Do you plan to cure an army?”
“Perhaps,” said Bloom. “I fear the Queen was plotting something terrible with the Wolf Baron.”
“But he is safely trapped in the portrait now,” said Amelliea.
“I do not think that this will stop your mother, since I have reason to suspect that she has a werewolf army at her disposal.”
“She said with great displeasure that some of the council members oppose her,” said Amelliea. “What if she wants to do away with them and leave her rein un-checked?”
Bloom nodded. “My thoughts precisely. Though if she were planning a takeover, such an event would likely happen at a festival or a large celebration of some sort, but I have thoroughly studied the Citrulene calendar and there are no important holidays for the next two and a half months.”
“My birthday, and coronation!” exclaimed Amelliea. “That’s when it will happen! The Queen even said that it will be an unforgettable occasion for those that are invited. I didn’t know what she meant at the time, but I’m certain all the council members will be there.”
“We shall lace the drink with this here potion!” said Bloom, taking the bottle from Amelliea. He gave it a shake, making the liquid swirl around in tiny silver spirals.
“What will it do to normal people?” asked Amelliea.
“Make them forever immune to the bite of a werewolf,” replied Bloom.
“Perfect!” said Amelliea. “If they are in deed planning to seize the kingdom, and plotting an upheaval, then most, if not all of the werewolves are likely to be there in human form!”
“We shall plan carefully, for we will only get one chance to make this happen,” said Bloom. Rising from the bed he began to pace back and forth across the floor. “We must be very careful not to betray our intentions.” He looked at his daughter. “You have to convince your mother that you suspect nothing.”
Amelliea nodded seriously and got up out of the bed. She looked around the chamber with a sweeping glance.
“What is it?” asked Bloom.
“I’m as hungry as a wolf,” smiled Amelliea.
Chapter 48
The Spoils of Royalty
The next morning A
melliea was notified that the Queen wished to see her. She knocked on the door of her mother’s study, and a servant promptly opened it.
“Good morning,” said the Queen, “I trust that you are feeling better?”
“I am in deed,” said Amelliea.
“I have a surprise for you my sweet child,” smiled the woman walking over to her dresser.
In her mother’s brief absence, Amelliea looked about the space only to find a new painting hanging on the wall next to the portrait of her father the King. It was the painting of the Wolf Baron. Amelliea shivered, remembering her fierce match with the werewolf.
“This is for you,” said the Queen, bringing Amelliea an extravagant blue gown with extra long sleeves and a matching corset.
“Thank you,” said Amelliea, gratefully receiving the gift.”
“Go ahead, try it on,” encouraged the Queen, directing Amelliea to a screen that stood to one side of the room. Deciding to ask about the painting at a later time, Amelliea went behind the screen to change into the gown. It was a perfect fit, and the corset laced up easily enough in the front, the only problem was that the sleeves of the gown were so long, they nearly trailed along the floor. Amelliea gathered the fabric of the sleeves, looking for the opening through which to pull her hand, only to find that there was none, and that the sleeves were in fact sewn shut. She came out wearing the expression of concern on her face, her arms dangling uselessly at her sides.
“Don’t you look magnificent!” exclaimed the Queen. “Won’t you turn around for me?” she instructed.
Amelliea spun this way and that, but the skirt did not twirl like the weightless gowns of the Gator region. The girl looked down at her dress, trying hard to hide her disappointment.
“Don’t you like it?” asked the Queen, sensing something was wrong.
“I do—I like it fine, its just that the sleeves are, a little, well…” Amelliea trailed off unsure what to say. She lifted her arms and then dropped them back down in frustration.
“What did you expect?” asked the Queen, a harsh note in her voice. You were born to be a Princess. Not having to use your hands at all is a mark of royalty. This dress reminds people of their proper place in relation to you, and the sleeves will keep your lovely hands soft and supple.”
“And weak,” added Amelliea, regretting the words as soon as she had spoken them.
“You will get used to it in time,” said the Queen.
“Will the sleeves of my every gown be sewn shut?” asked Amelliea.
“Careful darling,” smiled the Queen. “Your words border on ungratefulness.”
“And what is the punishment for ungratefulness in this region?” asked Amelliea.
“You will have plenty of time to study the laws I have written,” said the Queen, for now, you are expected in the music auditorium. I have heard a rumor that you enjoy singing and playing the harp, and I have invited a few select, and highly respected guests to hear you preform.”
“I would be delighted to play for you, mother,” bowed Amelliea, remembering to stay civil for the sake of her plan with Bloom.
“That’s my girl,” said the Queen. “Run along now darling. I shall have the rest of your new gowns taken to your room straight away.”
“There are more?” asked Amelliea with a sinking heart, as she moved out of the room.
The Queen closed the door, leaving Amelliea to stand in the hallway. A guard smirked upon seeing the girl in the new gown, and Amelliea stuck out her tongue at him.
Back in her chamber, Amelliea tore off the ghastly blue corset and horrible dress and threw them on the floor in vengeance. She searched through the countless new gowns that the maid had brought for a single dress with open sleeves. The maid was a young woman about the same age as Amelliea. She stood politely to one side as Amelliea searched for something to wear.
“Ah, this one will do nicely,” said Amelliea, reaching for a simple white dress.
“That one there is a nightgown,” warned the maid.
“Well, how am I supposed to play the harp with my sleeves sewn shut?” asked Amelliea.
“Try this one,” offered the maid. Handing her a dark brown short-sleeved dress. “This one is a dinnertime gown, so it must have open sleeves in order for you to be able to hold your utensils.”
“What is with all these drab colors?” asked Amelliea in frustration. “I’m a girl! Don’t you have anything in pink?”
“Pink?” asked the maid, raising her eyebrows. “That color has been deemed unfashionable by the Queen due to its overuse in the Sapphire era.”
“It happens to be my favorite,” sighed Amelliea.
“I’m deeply sorry your ladyship,” said the maid, bowing her head to hide that she was smiling.
“You find that funny, do you?” asked Amelliea, buttoning up the high collar of her gown.
“No your Highness,” answered the maid, looking up and then casting down her eyes once more.
“These clothes feel like they are trying to murder me!” cried Amelliea.
The maid snorted, and shook from silent laughter.
“You dare laugh at me?” said Amelliea, taking on a common local accent similar to that of the Queen’s guards.
“No-no!” cried the poor maid, frightened to death.
Amelliea picked up a pillow. “I challenge you to a duel!” She threw a second pillow at the maid and proceeded to attack her with ferocity.
“No!” choked the maid, out of breath from laughter.
“On guard! Defend yourself, madam!” cried Amelliea, jumping on the bed and throwing all the pillows at the young maid one at a time.
“No one throws pillows at me without paying for it dearly!” cried the maid, getting into the game.
Now it was Amelliea’s turn to take a beating. One of the pillows burst, and white feathers spewed everywhere, covering the bed in white.
“What in Windiffera is going on in there?” asked the masculine voice outside of the door. “Amelliea, I have come to collect you for the concert! The Queen shall have my head if we are late!”
“I’m coming!” cried Amelliea, leaping off the bed. She placed a finger to her lips and handed her pillow to the maid. When she left, Amelliea made sure to slip through the door in a way that prevented her escort from seeing her mischief and making sure to keep her maid out of trouble.
The man pulled a white feather from Amelliea’s hair. “I’m Albert,” he said unhappily. He was and older man, who wore a permanently sour expression on his face due to the slight slumping of the corners of his mouth. “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” smiled Amelliea.
“Right this way,” he grumbled.
Albert led Amelliea to a small music room with several short rows of seating and a small platform set a few feet into the floor. A magnificent wooden harp had been placed at the center of the platform. All the plush velvet seats were filled with guests who were dressed in expensive-looking clothing that was all designed with the highest standards of modern fashion in mind. Amelliea thought the guests looked like bleak-colored parrots.
As she walked onto the stage, the audience gave her a brief round of polite applause. Amelliea played for the better part of an hour, singing a set of her favorite, most melodic songs. Unaccustomed to having a right arm, Amelliea strummed the strings of the harp only with her left hand, leaving her new arm to rest at her side. When she was finished, the audience clapped adoringly, and soon thereafter filed out of the music room and into the dining hall.
When they had gone, the Queen pulled Amelliea aside. “You failed to use your new arm,” she reprimanded. “You must use it more to help people forget that it was ever missing,” she scolded.
“Why do I need them to forget? I was the same person then that I am now,” said Amelliea. “A whole person!”
“You were an embarrassment!”
“In what way?”
“You were an ugly invalid, and now you are a Royal Princess!”
“I’m pretty sure
I was a Princess then as well.”
“You are only what I decide to make you!” said the Queen.
“Are you threatening to cut off my arm?” asked Amelliea.
“Do not think for a moment that I will not do whatever necessary to ensure the respect and dignity of our dynasty!”
“Sometimes I long for my ‘invalid’ days!”
“Be careful what you wish, my dear,” said the Queen harshly, “I could return you to that pitiful state once more at the snap of my fingers!”
“Well why don’t you then?” demanded Amelliea, taking on the challenge. “What good is your half-hearted love?”
“How dare you?” asked the Queen. “After all I have given you?”
“Don’t you see? I’m not here for your gifts!”
“Then why are you here?” she snapped, “to steal my throne?”
“To be with you,” said Amelliea.
“Well, you are not acting as my true daughter would act!”
“But I am your true daughter, am I not? So this is how your true daughter would act!”
“You must be better!” snapped the Queen.
“I don’t understand,” said Amelliea, “what does it matter to you if I am not perfect?”
“One must always strive for excellence,” said the Queen, recycling a common meaningless statement.
“It was you!” said Amelliea, guessing at the past. “You abandoned me yourself, unable to cope with having birthed a defective child!”
The Queen was mortified, and her tortured inability to reply confirmed the truth of Amelliea’s words.
“How could you?” asked Amelliea, tears brimming in her eyes.
“I—I didn’t know what else to do!” justified the Queen. “Please understand—I was scared!”
“You left me to die!” cried Amelliea. “To freeze to death or be eaten by animals!”
“It wasn’t acceptable, it was a different time—”
“That does not absolve you from what you did! You only welcomed me home when I was fixed! It didn’t matter how I regrew an arm, as long as I didn’t make you look bad by being deficient! Well, know this, I’m not ashamed of who I am!” shouted Amelliea.
The Curse (The Windore Series Book 2) Page 31