The yellow finch and redwing returned to her immediately, one settling on her hand, the other on her shoulder. The doe, however, approached more cautiously, her big round eyes centered directly on Jourdian.
“She’s frightened of you,” Splendor said. “Kneel before her, Jourdian.”
“Kneel before an animal?”
“’Twill make you shorter than she and less intimidating.” Before this day he’d knelt before royalty only. Now he knelt before a deer.
“Hold out your hand, Jourdian, palm up, and make a soft noise for her.”
He held out his hand and whispered, “Come here.”
The doe joined Splendor and the birds. “She knows you’re master of these lands,” Splendor said, caressing the deer’s ears. “And she thinks you cruel.”
“Cruel? I’ve done nothing to her.”
“You have. Your estate workers will nay allow her to eat the berries that grow in various places in your yards. They have chased her and her friends away. Several times they have thrown stones at her. You employ the workers, Jourdian.”
“But I didn’t know my gardeners weren’t letting her eat…” He stopped speaking, frowned, and stared at Splendor. “You act as though you speak and understand the deer.”
“I do. I can communicate with all animals. I understand plants, too.”
“Plants. I see.”
“Plants speak to those who listen. The ivy in your ivy garden is very happy where it is, but the chrysanthemums at the front of your house are distressed because they are soon going to drown if your gardeners do not reroute the rain that pours down from your roof and balconies.”
“Distressed chrysanthemums. Of course. Splendor, shall we return to the house? I think you’ve had enough sun for one day.”
“And shall we go to the bedroom, Jourdian?”
“Directly there without stopping once.”
Gently, she released the birds, bid the doe farewell, and retrieved her book of Shakespeare. Looping her arm through the crook of Jourdian’s elbow, she grinned up at him. “I have been reading your Shakespeare.”
“And have you enjoyed his works?” he asked, leading her toward the manor house.
“Last night I longed to walk out on the balcony of my room, but of course, I couldn’t because—”
“You are off on a tangent, Splendor. I was asking about Shakespeare.”
“Aye, that is what you were asking about, Jourdian, and I am trying to tell you. Last night I longed to walk out on the balcony, but I could not because ’tis made of iron. I have asked you to rid the house of iron, but you have not heeded my request. You must be more mindful of my needs, Jourdian. I will overlook your inconsideration this time, but beware of the fact that I am learning the art of anger and will not hesitate to demonstrate my newly found skills.
“And so,” she continued without pause, “I could not walk on the iron balcony last night. Instead, I opened a window, leaned out, and said, ‘Jourdian, Jourdian, wherefore art thou, Jourdian?’”
“Wherefore…” Jourdian could hardly think straight, what with all her chatter bouncing through his mind. “Why have you such a strong aversion to iron?”
“I will tell you later.”
He escorted her past the ivy garden and around to the front of the house. “I want to know now.”
“But you will not know now, Jourdian, because I am not going to tell you until later. Romeo and Juliet are my favorite characters in this book. Do you like them as well?”
“Yes. Splendor, I’ll not have you disobeying me, do you understand? If I tell you to do something, you must do it at that precise moment without hesitation. Your unwillingness to explain your aversion to iron—”
“And do you like Hamlet, Lady Macbeth, and the three witches, too?” Splendor asked as he assisted her up the steps that led to the front door of the house. “I liked the part in Macbeth when the three witches stir the cauldron and make the prediction that Macbeth will first become the new thane of Cawdor and then king of Scotland. ‘Double, double toil and trouble.’ ’Tis what they said, Jourdian.”
“I know, Splendor.” Jourdian opened the door and led her inside. “Now, about the iron—”
“I’ve a surprise for you. I think ’twill make you very happy. I will give it to you in the bedroom.”
“What is it?”
“’Twill not be a surprise if I tell you, Jourdian. But, suffice it to say that this surprise is going to give you supreme pleasure.”
“And you’ll give it to me in my bedroom?”
“Aye, that is where I will give it to you.”
Jourdian had to restrain himself from bedding her right there in the entryway. He looked up the long, winding staircase. It was only the first flight of stairs he would have to climb before arriving at his chambers on the third floor.
“What is this look of exasperation on your face, Jourdian?”
“It’s a long climb to my bedroom, sprite. And anxious as I am to receive your surprise, I wish we were already there.”
Splendor took a quick, deep breath. The time had come, she thought. He’d made a wish. She’d been going to wait until she’d given him his surprise before telling him about her enchanted origins, but now was as good a time as any to reveal her identity to him.
“Your wish is granted, husband.” She opened her hand, out of which streamed thousands of tiny silver lights.
And in the next moment, Jourdian found himself standing in the middle of his bedroom.
Chapter Twelve
Slack jawed with disbelief, Jourdian stared at his room as if he’d never seen it before. He didn’t speak, didn’t move, didn’t breathe.
“Jourdian?” Splendor took his hand and squeezed it tightly. “You know that name you call me? Sprite? Well, ’tis a good name for me. An accurate one.”
He didn’t reply. He couldn’t.
He could only gawk at the room. Every single item from the carpet to the ceiling, had changed color. The walls were a bright red; the windows were now of green glass. All the wood furniture was blue.
The whole room was red, green, and blue.
And in every available nook, cranny, and crevice...on and inside and over every accessible spot, there grew a plant. Dozens of them. Some sort of red flowering vine twisted up the posts of his bed and around the closet door. Huge yellow roses spilled down tables, off the fireplace mantel, and over the floor. Thick rows of multicolored wildflowers edged the four walls, and a small evergreen tree grew atop the dresser.
Nothing was planted. Nothing was in a container, and nothing stemmed from dirt.
The plants sprang directly from the floor or from furniture.
“Jourdian? Did you hear what I said?”
Still speechless, he walked backward until his legs met the chair behind him. He sat down. “I had only a splash of brandy earlier in my office. I’m perfectly sober.”
Splendor glided toward his chair. “I am glad that you are not hysterical. Mrs. Frawley and poor Leonard both fainted when they witnessed my magic, and Tessie was afraid of me until I touched her with a bit of peace. Ulmstead was frightened when I made Delicious disappear, but I am going to give him some hair soon as a secret apology for scaring him. I am also going to rid Tessie of the marks that mar her face, and Hopkins of his stutter, but first I must—”
“Sober,” Jourdian repeated, his gaze still sweeping around the room. “But one second I was in the foyer, and now I’m—”
“You wished to be here in your bedroom, Jourdian. I told you I would grant your wishes, and ’tis what I did when I brought you up here. And you said I could fill your house with plants. I have not done the rest of the house yet, but only your room. And what of your favorite colors? You said they were red, blue, and green. I did a bit of redecorating while you were gone. Do you like your room? Everything is red, blue, and green. Even your clothes.”
She drifted toward one of his dressers, opened a drawer, and withdrew a pair of stockings.
Jourdian saw his socks wer
e blue. Not dark blue, but light blue, like a spring sky.
“And look here, Jourdian.” Splendor crossed to the closet and selected two suits, one crimson red, the other grass green. “I’ve changed the color of all your shirts, shoes, neck cloths, outerwear, gloves, and hats, too. All in your favorite colors! Everything I have done in your absence…’tis the surprise I had for you. Are you not pleased, husband?”
“No, I’m asleep. I have to be asleep.”
Splendor joined him by his chair again. “You are awake.” She reached out and pinched his arm.
He felt the sting. “I’m awake.” His heart was beating so fast, he wondered if he would soon collapse and die.
“Aye, Jourdian, you are awake. And I am a Pillywiggin fairy. Pillywiggin. ’Tis the name of my father’s kingdom, which lies beneath the floor of the woods near the meadow where we met.”
Slowly, he looked up at her. His thoughts twisted, tangled, and knotted in his mind, and he could not think coherently. “A fairy,” he mumbled.
Memories returned to him. Childhood memories he hadn’t thought of in many long years. He saw Emil in his mind, and his cousin was but a small boy.
Wouldn’t it be grand if we found a fairy, Jourdian? Emil had once asked. Fairies live all over England, you know. They have sparkling wings and carry wands.
Jourdian continued to stare up at Splendor, his thoughts still jumbled beyond control. “No wings,” he muttered. “You don’t have a wand either.”
“I do have wings, husband, but I do not wear them often because they are so hard to keep clean. Dust catchers are what they are, and if you have ever cleaned dust off a fragile pair of fairy wings without tearing them, you understand my frustration with them. And Father will nay allow me to give the task to the servants. He says we must all learn to clean our wings ourselves. So, I do not use my wings much. I can fly supremely well without them. And if I grow weary—which is often, especially if I must fly over a long distance—dragonflies make excellent mounts.
“As for wands,” she continued. “’Tis naught but a myth that fairies carry wands. The Pillywiggins simply open their hands or stretch out their fingers, and magic flows.”
“A fairy,” Jourdian said.
“A fairy princess. And in answer to your earlier question, I fear iron because that particular metal can take away a fairy’s power. One touch… Just one touch of iron will forever divest me of my magic.”
Jourdian felt dizzy, as though he’d turned around and around and around too many times. His mouth was parched, and he couldn’t seem to get a deep enough breath to fill his lungs.
“My father is King Wisdom of Pillywiggin,” Splendor added. “My mother is Queen Pleasure, and my sister is Princess Harmony. ’Twas she who tangled your hair, dropped the boots on your head, and stung you at the wedding. I must warn you now that she will take a kiss from you, Jourdian. I promised her she could have one when she rid me of the prickles, and I cannot go back on my promise. But ’twill be a short kiss, and she will nay take another. Exasperating though she can be at times, I have never known her to break an oath.”
Jourdian closed his eyes and held his head in his hands. He wasn’t drunk, and he wasn’t asleep. “Splendor,” he whispered, the small sound an effort to make, “how did I get into this room?”
“I brought you here.”
“How?”
“With magic.”
Jourdian said nothing, but only continued to hold his head in his hands. Minutes ticked by, during which time he concentrated intently, using every shred of logic he had.
Finally, his common sense began to chase away his disbelief and untangle his raveled thoughts. “Paint,” he murmured. “Yes, of course. You simply painted the furniture, walls, and ceiling. And you ordered green window glass in my absence. And the plants… You created an illusion. It only appears as though the plants are growing out of the floor and furniture.”
She looked around the room. “Nay, the plants are growing from the floor and furniture. But magic causes them to believe they are growing in dirt. They are under a spell, Jourdian. ’Tis called fairy thrall. Anything done with fairy magic is called fairy this or fairy that. A ship stranded out at sea might have her sails filled with a sudden gust of fairy wind. A tender plant dying of thirst might be quenched with fairy rain. The magic of Faerie is very powerful.”
Jourdian lifted his head and stared up at her again. “Trickery. Magician tricks, nothing more.”
“Magic.”
He bolted from the chair and grasped her arm. “How did you get me up here?”
“Magic.”
“Damn it all, Splendor, I want the truth.”
“Damn it all, Jourdian, ’tis what I gave you.” She smiled up at him. “I am not given to cursing, but do you not think cursing goes well with anger? I am learning anger, as I told you earlier. Go ahead, husband. Do or say something that might irritate me, and I will show you how well I am doing with my anger lessons.”
She was deranged, he thought. A madwoman, fit to be locked away forever.
But even if she was crazy, that still didn’t explain how he’d come to be in the room so quickly.
Maybe he was insane, too. “My mind,” he whispered. “I’ve lost my mind.”
“You have lost naught but a willingness to believe in magic.”
“I have never believed in magic!”
“You have. As a child. You made wishes on stars, and if you did not believe in magic you would nay have made those wishes. They are all still there, your wishes. I have guarded your wishing stars all these years. Indeed, only one has fallen from the sky. That mishap occurred when I had taken to my bed after the cat scratched me. ’Twas my mother who spotted your fallen star, but she did not have time to retrieve it. She was on one of her missions that night. But she told me where I could find it. I traveled very far for that star. Do you remember that I told you that I had journeyed far only once in my life? That was the time. Your star… ’Twas in a rice field in China, Jourdian, and I put it back in the sky.”
Jourdian was sober now, but he decided that within a half an hour he would be drunker than he’d ever been in his whole life. He stormed toward the door.
“Where do you go, Jourdian?”
“Downstairs to drink myself into complete oblivion.”
“I do not wish for you to go downstairs and drink yourself into oblivion. You may do so later, but for now you will remain here with me.”
He spun to face her. “Ever since I met you in the meadow, you have attempted to order me about. I am the duke of Heathcourte, for God’s sake, and you will not command—”
“And I am the princess royal of Pillywiggin.” Splendor touched the top of her head, and in the next instant she was crowned with a glowing circle of diamonds. “I am not altogether certain what a duke is, but I do not believe I am mistaken in thinking my rank is a bit more exalted than yours. Especially since I will one day replace my father on the throne, and be queen.”
He stared at the glittering headpiece she wore. “How did you do that?” he asked incredulously. “The crown… And how did you get me from the foyer into this room?”
“How many times must I tell you, Jourdian? I am a fairy, and I used magic to—”
“Enough of that nonsense, Splendor! There are no such things as fairies! And if you don’t tell me how you’ve accomplished all this amazing trickery, I’ll—”
“No such things as fairies? But Jourdian, you are looking at a fairy. And I must tell you that you are vexing me by shouting at me.”
“Oh? Well, why don’t you use your—your fairy magic and send me into a pit full of snakes?”
Splendor didn’t care for his sneer or the taunting sound of his voice. “A supremely marvelous suggestion.” She tossed stardust straight into his face.
He choked and sneezed, and a fraction of a second later, Jourdian could see nothing but blackness. Cold and dampness seeped into him, and from all around him came ominous hissing sounds. Something sl
ithered over his feet; something else brushed his lower calves.
A soft silver light appeared then, illuminating the rocky walls around him. He bowed his head and looked down.
His knees almost buckled.
Hundreds of serpents surrounded him; all were poisonous. He saw rattlesnakes, corals, and kraits. Adders, vipers, copperheads, and black mambas. So many snakes that they seemed to be one slinking mass of venom.
A cobra fell on top of him and twisted around his shoulders, its hood fully flared, its long tongue flicking in and out of its open mouth like a whip. Sweat streamed down Jourdian’s face.
“Is this what you had in mind, Jourdian?” Splendor asked from within the orb of soft silver light.
He heard her voice coming from above his head, but he didn’t dare look up for fear that the slight motion would agitate the seething body of serpents.
She floated down so he could see her.
Jourdian saw her stepping all over the snakes, and yet the serpents ignored her completely. This had to be a nightmare, he thought. Yes, he’d felt the sting of Splendor’s pinch, but pinch or no pinch, this situation was unreal. Inconceivable.
He reached up, grabbed the cold, scaly body of the cobra, and threw the heavy snake off his shoulders. No sooner had the serpent left his hands than every snake in the pit bared its fangs and lunged toward him.
Jourdian opened his mouth to scream, but before a sound escaped him, he was back in his bedroom, safe and sound, without as much as one snake scale anywhere near him. He continued to shake, and sweat still poured from his forehead, stinging his eyes.
“You did not truly believe I would allow any of those snakes to bite you, did you, Jourdian?” Splendor asked, curling her arms around him.
A long while passed before Jourdian calmed sufficiently to move or speak. He felt suddenly tired. Exhausted. He stumbled to the bed, sat on the soft mattress, and reached for one of the bedposts for support.
Like a small, weak flame, the truth trembled through his mind. He saw its light, he felt its burn, but he still didn’t want to believe it.
And yet he had no choice. “The snakes... No nightmare could have been that real.”
A Basket of Wishes Page 19