“Oh, princess, you have a delightful laugh.” The pea chuckled, deep and rich.
“Thank you.” She felt a blush rush over her skin. “So do you.”
“For an old pea, you mean.”
“No. For...a...friend?” She wasn’t sure if the feelings in her stomach and chest were friendship, but she didn’t want to lose this thing she’d barely discovered.
“That’s very kind of you, Princess.”
“Please. Adira. Just Adira.”
“Adira.”
She liked how the pea said her name, soft and savoring. Different than any other thing had ever said it before.
“You should get some rest,” the pea suggested. “It’s sure to be a busy day tomorrow. With the marriage proposal and all.”
“Marriage?” An entirely different kind of heat built beneath her skin: outrage. “I am not going to marry Prince Chadwick. I am not delicate, have never thought of myself as a princess, and don’t like the way he looks at me like something he wants to lick and then display behind glass.”
“Oh,” the pea said. Then, with more gusto, “Good. What will you do?”
“I’m leaving. Now. Tonight.” She crossed to her wardrobe and dug for her sturdiest boots and warmest cloak.
The wardrobe, always helpful, offered hints as she searched.
“Cold. Still cold. Ah, now you’re getting warmer, a little warmer...yes! Hot. Well done.”
She plucked her boots out from beneath an old quilt and searched for a knapsack.
“Warm,” the wardrobe coached, “warmer. No. Cold now, dear. Cold...”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Prin—Adira?”
“Very.”
“Warmer—better! Almost hot...”
“Where will you go?” the pea asked. “What will you do? You are at a disadvantage being unable to communicate with people.”
“Oh, I’m going to take care of that too. Ah-ha!”
“Hot! Bravo!” The wardrobe cheered.
She filled the pack with a change of clothes, the twenty jewels she’d been gifted—one for each birthday—and the knife her father’s hunter had given her when she was younger and had saved his daughter from drowning in the river.
“It sounds like you have a plan,” the pea said.
“I do. I’m going to find the witch who cursed me and make her break the curse.”
“You...a witch? What now?”
“I’ve read a lot of books. In them, the princess is almost always cursed or imprisoned or exiled—usually by a witch.”
“There do seem to be a surplus of witches displeased with princesses in books, yes. But witches in real life aren’t like witches in books.”
“And I’m not like princesses in books. Now that I know I am a princess, I assume I’m cursed. I’ll find the witch who did it and she can break it.”
“All right.” The pea sounded thoughtful. “If you find the witch, assuming there is a witch, what will you give her to break your curse, assuming you are cursed?”
She rattled the bag of jewels and they all sang in one pure, angelic voice: “Money!”
“Riches,” she said.
“And if the witch doesn’t want riches?”
“Then I’ll offer a year of my labor. I’m a good worker and can handle any tool once the tool has taught me how to use it.”
The pea chuckled, surprised. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“What did you think I’d do?”
“Offer her a talking pea?”
Adira stopped lacing her boot to better settle her cloak, fastening it tightly over the warm layers she’d quickly donned.
“Other people can hear you?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“Oh. So that makes you...”
“A talking pea.”
“I was going to say rare.”
“Perhaps that too. Have you ever spoken to another pea?”
“No. My food doesn’t talk.” She grimaced, imagining it. “I believe I prefer it that way.”
“And me?”
“I prefer you talking to me. I very much enjoy it.”
“I meant, what will you do with me now that you know others can hear me?”
She had assumed the pea would come along with her to find the witch. For one thing, it was easy to carry a pea, and for another, she liked the pea’s company.
It was nice to finally have someone to talk with. Someone who asked her opinions and listened to them. Someone who didn’t look at her like she was simple-minded, crazy, or a terrible disappointment.
“What would you like me to do with you? I could return you beneath the mattress, or hide you somewhere with a view? Or...” She scrambled for an idea of what the pea might like. Having known no other peas, she came up blank.
“Whatever you wish for me to do for you, I will do that,” she promised.
The pea was silent for a moment, then, in a very serious voice, “I would like to stay with you. For as long as you’ll have me.”
“That would be...” she wanted to say amazing, exciting, wonderful, but settled on, “perfect.”
And so the princess dropped the pea into her pocket and snuck out of her parent’s modest but lovely estate in search of a witch.
She didn’t go on foot, but rather took her horse, saddled with supplies. The horse was eager to leave the familiar grounds, even though it was not yet dawn.
She was eager too. She loved her home, but had always wanted to see more of the world.
The pea remained silent for so long, she wondered if she had said something to offend it.
Finally the voice rose from her pocket. “Princess?”
“Adira.”
“Adira. Where do you hope to find a witch?”
She looked at the woods around her, and the barely-there path that stretched into a gloomy distance even though the sun painted gold threads against the branches above her.
“The woods.”
“I thought I heard trees.”
She drew the pea out and held it in her hand. “The path leads deeper into the woods, and beyond that is a town,” she said, recalling the map she’d put to memory. “I don’t suppose you know where a witch might live?”
The pea was quiet as if considering its answer. “I do, actually.”
“That’s wonderful!”
“She’s not a very nice witch.”
“You’ve met her?”
“I know her son.”
“And is he a witch?”
“Not...not exactly.”
“You’re very mysterious for a legume.”
“Yes, well, a pea is really a fruit.”
“You’re a very mysterious fruit.”
“And you’re a very forthright princess.”
“Princess is just how people see me. It isn’t who I am.”
“Then who are you, Adira?”
Those words conjured moments of loneliness, days trying to navigate a world that had never made much sense to her, nights of wondering if she’d ever belong with the people around her. She’d spent years wondering why she was so deeply and terribly flawed.
And she’d spent years poring over books, looking for answers to that very question. Who was she?
“I’m...searching.” The words fit well in her heart and did something to lessen the loneliness there.
“Searching. Yes. I like that about you.”
Adira smiled. “Tell me about the witch.”
“She knows the future. It’s annoying.”
“So you have met her.”
“Yes. She yelled at me and said we would meet in three years.”
“When was this?”
“Oh.” The pea sounded disgusted. “It’s been three years.”
“This must be fate.”
“Or a trap.”
“Is there a difference?”
The pea chuckled. “Point.”
“What do you think she’ll want of me?”
“I have no idea. But make sure i
t’s something worth giving up.”
“To break this curse, I’d give up almost anything.”
“Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. There is too much about you that I would hate to see lost or given away. Witches always know what a human heart desires and set their prices accordingly.”
It occurred to her, just then, that the pea knew an awful lot about the world for a pea. The other things that talked to her had experience limited to where they existed. Things that traveled like wagons, and ships, and books always had more knowledge, more opinions.
How had the pea come by such knowledge?
For that matter, why could people other than her hear it? Also, the pea seemed to know an awful lot about witches.
She was about to ask all these questions when a voice shouted out across the grassy glen the forest had opened upon.
“I’m not going to break your curse.”
The pea sighed.
Adira widened her eyes at the robust woman standing in the doorway of the cozy little house. The front garden was filled with flowers that should not be blooming at this time of year, and beautiful colored stones cobbled swirling pathways through the blooms.
The woman herself was tan as tree bark, her hair a spill of silver down her back.
Adira opened her mouth to ask why she could understand what the woman was saying.
“I’m a witch. We understand all languages and can speak yours. That’s why you can hear me. Let me save us both some time. You’re going to come inside, drink tea and move your mouth while the pea in your pocket uses a ridiculous voice to try to trick me into believing you can speak a more common language.”
“Ridiculous voice?” the pea demanded. “Rude.”
“You should never be an actor,” the witch snapped. “And you, Princess Adira, have a great choice ahead of you. Choose with your heart and you will never regret it.”
It was amazing to be talking to a real live person. Well, a witch, but still, Adira was so happy just to be able to understand her, she didn’t know what to say.
“I am a great actor,” the pea said.
“Ha!” the witch said. “Go ahead. Say something in a voice you think I’ll believe is Adira.” She crossed her arms and waited, even though she already knew the future, so must know what the pea was about to do.
The pea pitched its voice high and soft. “Good woman, I have come to ask you to break my curse.”
Adira barked out a laugh and the witch slapped her thigh and howled. “That never gets old. I tell you, I love being right. All right. Go on you two. And pea, tell this woman the truth.”
“But I—”
“Your argument won’t change my mind or the truth. Which you should tell her. If you can’t find the words in that big brain of yours, look in your heart for once in your life. Now, since we all know what would have happened if I had let you in, let’s just skip the whole thing. I have better things to be doing.”
With that the witch waved, walked back into her house and slammed the door.
Adira, who by this time had ridden close enough to the house that she could now smell the riot of flower fragrances, was stunned.
“She. That was...I could understand...I’ve read about witches, but she was...”
“Annoying. I told you so. Knowing the future makes her a terrible conversationalist. And she has no appreciation for my acting abilities.”
Adira grinned. “You sounded ridiculous.”
“I did not.”
“Your voice was pinched up like an old sock with a cold.”
“Socks don’t catch cold.”
“They do. And they complain constantly when they develop a hole. If they lose their mate on laundry day they make this high whining sound that gets louder the longer they’re alone. You sounded like that.”
“I sounded like a lonely sock?”
“Are you?”
“A sock?”
“Lonely?”
The pea paused. Then, quietly, “I was. Less so now.”
“Is that the truth the witch said you should tell me?”
“Maybe?”
“You’re a terrible liar, Pea.”
“I have always thought so.”
“Now I have to find another witch.”
The pea was silent.
“I don’t suppose you know where to find one? Her son, maybe?”
The pea said nothing, which was odd. Well, Adira didn’t need the pea’s help. She could find a witch on her own.
She turned her horse onto the path toward town.
Just before dark Adira found a hollow with level enough ground for the bedroll she’d tied on the back of the saddle. She dismounted, stretched some of the stiffness out of her back, then took care of her horse, removing the saddle and bridle, ground-staking him for the night and making sure he had a healthy portion of grain to eat along with the lush grasses he eagerly tore into.
A small stream flowed nearby, and the horse’s line was long enough for him to drink if he wanted.
She rigged up an awning, listening carefully to the tarp’s instructions, to keep off the worst of the wind. Then she settled beneath her covers, cloak, boots, and all.
“Good night, Pea.”
“I do know where to find a witch.”
Adira yawned. “I thought you might. Will you tell me?”
“Yes. But you must be warned this witch is no ordinary witch. He is very dangerous.”
“I am no ordinary princess.”
The pea sighed. “That is very true. In the town there is a library. You will find the witch there.”
“The library?”
“It’s a place that lends books to read.”
“I know what a library is. How do you know the witch is there?”
“The witch is the librarian.”
“Is magic common in librarians?”
“Oh, yes. Anyone who touches a book has more than a little magic brush off on them. And if one truly loves a book, he or she will carry that book’s small magic all their life.”
“You sound very knowledgeable about these things: books, librarians, witches.”
“I was in the library for some years and have loved many books.”
“How did you get there?”
“The farmer, pea farmer, a man who farms peas, had a hole in his farmer coat, in the pocket of his coat he wore while farming his peas. I fell through that hole to the library floor where I was stuck in a crack? Yes, that’s it, a crack for many years. He pead on the floor and there I was.”
The pea had that strange tone of voice. It was lying.
She waited a moment. The pea sighed. “I’m terrible at this.”
Adira laughed. “You are a terrible story teller.”
“No. I’m a terrible liar, but I am a very good story teller.”
“‘Pead on the floor’?”
“I was nervous. Let me prove my skill. I’ll tell you a story as you fall to sleep. Once upon a time there was a man.”
“A prince?”
“No. Not a prince. He wasn’t handsome enough to be a prince because of his large nose and skinny build and when he forgot to wear his glasses he tended to squint.”
“Was he a smart man?”
“You ask a lot of questions for a story that has only begun.”
“I like the sound of your voice.”
The pea chuckled. “Then listen. Once upon a time there was a man who was not a prince. He might have been considered a smart man because he loved books, and loved being surrounded by books just as his father and grandfather before him. He knew one day he would grow up and look after books as was his family’s way.”
“Was he a librarian?” She yawned.
“He was.” That, said so softly.
Adira closed her eyes.
“The librarian had a brother who took more after their mother and her unique skills. He didn’t like books, but even more, he didn’t like that his librarian brother seemed to be keeping a secret source of magic h
idden in the library. He thought it might be a spell book, an ancient scroll, the eye of a seer. But no matter how many times the librarian told his brother the only magic in the library came from loving books, he would not believe him. The brother became jealous and angry. And so he wanted to take away the only thing that brought the librarian joy. He wanted to destroy his books. But first he wanted to find the hidden magic.”
That sounded terrible, but Adira was tired from a long day and a night without sleep. She drifted.
When she opened her eyes the pea was still talking in soft, soothing tones.
“...he cast the curse. Their mother would have been so proud of his spell work, if it weren’t being used on his own brother. But then, she knew the future and seemed to accept the outcome with her usual aggravating calm.”
Adira blinked hard. A man sat beside her on the bedroll where the pea had been. He had strong, good features with a prominent nose, wavy dark hair, and a mouth that was made for smiling. He was lean in the way a messenger or stage actor might be, and he squinted as he stared up at the stars.
“It took some time for him to get used to his transformation. To be such a small, unimportant thing. His mother told him that he would have to solve this problem on his own. That he should trust his heart instead of his head. Ridiculous advice and no help whatsoever against a strong curse that he didn’t have enough magic left to break. And the only thing in his heart....” The man sighed. “The only thing in his heart now is something he thought he’d never find. Love.”
He shook his head sadly, moonlight catching in his hair.
Adira tried to keep her eyes open. She wanted to ask him if he was really a man or a pea. To ask him if the story was about his own life. To ask him who he loved.
But sleep drew her down into its inky nest.
“Wake up, Princess,” a man’s voice filled with contempt and foul humor said. “I know you can hear me.”
Adira was instantly awake.
The man’s dark wavy hair and strong nose were similar to the dream-man she had imagined last night, but that was where the similarities ended. He crouched over her, his hand a punishing grip on her shoulder. His eyes narrowed, and it wasn’t an endearing far-off-star squint. It was angry and suspicious.
“Let go of me, now.” She used the words she knew, and the man’s eyes widened for a moment before slitting back to that snake-like suspicion.
Once Upon A Kiss: Seventeen Romantic Faerie Tales Page 47