And yet at the mention of the idea, Morgana seemed to grow dark. She narrowed her eyes at Corinna and her hands disappeared beneath her cloak. She looked curious, confused, and foreboding. She took a step toward Corinna, who took an identical step back. She looked dangerous, like a snake. Yes. In fact, her eyes were just like a snake’s. In that moment of lucidness, Corinna wondered why she had ever thought them to be feline eyes. Niviene had cat eyes. Morgana was watching her like a viper.
“Where did you hear something like that?” she asked, and her voice was unnervingly calm. The sky darkened as a light cloud was pushed between them and the sun. It caused ominous shadows to form on Morgana’s face and made her electric eyes seem that much more tantalizing, her movements that much more serpentine.
“I was just guessing. In all the old legends, the worst of curses were cured by true love,” Corinna defended quickly. She would not tell Morgana about the book in her room. Morgana, previously innocent, sweet, strong and able Morgana, now seemed more dangerous than Niviene. She was trying to read Corinna’s mind, to figure her out.
“Those are just fairytales. It’s foolishness. Love cures nothing but a broken heart,” Morgana spoke as the cloud continued on and the sun returned to full brightness. For Corinna, the added light did little to change her new vision of the sorcerer before her.
She was lying. Corinna couldn’t explain how she knew, but Morgana wasn’t telling the truth. And then she knew. Morgana had already known the way to cure Alexander before Corinna had said anything. Why then? Why had she not told Alexander? Was she so certain of his fate to die as well? She seemed to like Alexander well enough, so why would she give up on him so quickly?
Morgana moved closer.
“You know what, Corinna?” she asked, her voice light and average. Corinna felt her heart beat a little bit faster at the change in tone.
“No. What?” Corinna replied even though she knew the question was more rhetorical than literal.
“I think you’re job with this garden is coming out beautifully. The plants are all back in the soil. The bushes are all shaped and bright. I don’t see anything else you can do. I think your job is done here,” the witch said. She took another step closer to Corinna, and the younger woman fought the urge to back up.
“I think you’re right,” she answered, keeping her voice stoic and defended. “The front yard needs my attention more anyway. Good bye, Morgana. Maybe I’ll see you inside sometime.”
And before Morgana could say a word, to stop her or to charm her, she hurried to the door and back into the house. Something about Morgana was wrong. The stories of her childhood flooded her mind, all the tales of ‘the daughter of lustful loneliness’ and the horrible, powerful things she had done in her life. For the last week or so, Corinna had known Morgana to be kind - silent and distant, but kind. She would prefer to keep her that way in her memories, but the image of those bright snake eyes and the shadows on her face would haunt Corinna for some time, and she doubted it would ever truly leave her.
--- -- -- -- -- -- ---- --- -- -- -- … … .. .. … … .. …
Morgana. She was trapped in Corinna’s head. Every time Corinna tried to think of how to begin helping Alexander, that oddly average voice would percolate her every thought. All the mirrors, all the pictures, ‘any remembrance of his good looks’ had been put away so he couldn’t see it. Corinna was supposed to be helping Alexander become someone that could be loved, and yet all she could think about was that idea. Somewhere in this house was a portrait of Alexander before he became a beast, and the prospect of finding it filled Corinna with immense glee.
“The most handsome man in all of Paesaggia, huh?” Corinna asked the air as she came to the second floor. She bypassed even the slightest glance at the music room, the armory, or the library. She went straight for the last room, the largest by the looks of it. She’d had this idea last night as well, but it had been too dark to explore at the time.
Corinna gripped the door handle and felt her heart race at the possibility of what might lie behind this door. It opened easily, not hindered by dust or rust or magical device. The room beyond was dark, too dark to see anything in. Corinna frowned but stepped inside anyway. The curtains were drawn, no light escaping past their confines. Still, with the light from the door, Corinna could tell the room was crowded. Perhaps if she closed the door, her eyes would get used to the dark and she could find a path to the windows.
The door clicked into place and, all at once, the candles lining the walls flickered to life. A small chandelier burst into known existence in the center of the room as well, casting light over everything in the room. Beyond this last door in the hall was a collection so great it would make dukes and paupers alike stand in awe. Paintings of magnitude and magnificence, of men and women and children, whole groups of people; a whole country’s history, an entire family’s legacy and livelihood lived within the ornate golden frames. A historian’s dream stood about the room as well; detail orientated statues and busts sat around on tables and on the floor. Family artifacts were clumped in a pile.
The statues were such a white they were most probably pure marble from the mountains of Italy. From the school books, Corinna recognized the profile of Apollo and his mighty bow. There, beside him, his sister Diana. Ironically, there was Fortuna, the goddess of fate, and Necessitas, the goddess of destiny. Then there was one Corinna didn’t know, but the plate beneath it had been carved in with ‘Sancus’. Roman Gods in miniature form out of stone. Was the king or Alexander a devote Roman or did they just enjoy the sculpting style?
Corinna cast her eyes to the paintings situated like a timeline around the room. By far the oldest, Corinna saw a woman of plain style, large gown, and simple expression. It was the style of painting skill so long ago. Still, the woman in the painting was recognizable. It was Queen Isolde, and beside her portrait was one of her husband, King Tristran. After him, a picture of the Grand Duke, Sir Melot, half-brother to the king. Corinna smiled as she looked at these pictures. They all seemed to have the same face but with different colored eyes and slightly angled eyebrows. They were all of the same countenance, and as such were all of equal beauty.
Corinna looked later on in the timeline. About twenty portraits later was another one she recognized on sight. It was the great Duke Gorlois, the father of Morgana. He had no queen pictured beside him, but there was a much smaller picture of Morgana, just as she was this morning, leaning against his bottom corner.
Closer to the end, only three away, was the likeness of her late majesty, Queen Alexandria – from which Alexander took his name. She was untouched by sickness and death. Her eyes twinkled out of her frame as tantalizingly green as the day they were painted. Her smile was proper, the kind only worn for a portrait, and she sat straight backed and coyly on the chair. Her hair was golden yarn, rivers of beautiful but ordinary locks. They bounced, professionally curled, alongside her face with the same merriment as a child’s. It made her appear forever young, cast like this in oil and mineral for all the world to see in the future.
Beside the lady Alexandria’s image was the rendering of the king – the great and powerful father of Alexander, King Cassius. His hair was black but speckling gray. His eyes, a steely blue, stared steadfast out of the paints as though the real king could see everything they saw. His expression and posture screamed out his tolerance level – no mercy – and made him seem unapproachable even as a painting. His gaze was hard to hold even like this. Corinna didn’t want to meet the true king.
And then there was a slightly smaller painting, leaning on its own, off to the side ever so much. It was more important than the others because it was the image of the current lord of the Rose Chateau.
“Oh wow. Is this you, Alexander?” Corinna asked the room. She walked over to where the painting leaned against the wall and knelt before it.
Alexander was there, but nothing like the one Corinna knew. The hair was golden, like his mother’s, like the endless fields of wheat
Corinna saw on Sir Rune’s plot late in the spring. His features were strong but young. Corinna could see his father in him, but there was also the spitting image of his mother in those soft features. Alexander was small in this picture, the likeness of a boy seven years younger than the man Corinna knew. He could hardly be over fourteen or fifteen. If that was his age before the transformation, that would make him twenty-two, four years Corinna’s senior. Four years older, three feet taller, ten times as much money, and yet vastly less matured.
Corinna resituated herself to sit on the floor. Alexander’s smile was small, more like his father’s than his mother’s. His hair was short, a scruffy boyish cut that made his age more noticeable. He had a slight scar to the side of his left eye that the painter seemed to have tried to cover up at the last minute, but the scar was still there.
His eyes captured Corinna’s attention for the longest time. They were the same. Alexander’s eyes were the same in this early teenage picture as they were this very day up in the prince’s room. Alexander’s eyes hadn’t changed. One part that remained human. They were that torrential blue. It had been too dark to see them in the garden that first night, but when Alexander had ordered her to clean his room they had gotten rather close, and these eyes were definitely the same ones. They weren’t nearly as animalistic as they had looked in the garden, but perhaps that was because Alexander hadn’t been as angry.
“You have some nice eyes, Alexander,” Corinna complimented. Then her own eyes focused on the prince’s lips. Morgana had not been lying when she said he was handsome. Alexander was indeed good looking, and it was epitomized in his eyes and lips. He had his mother’s lips. “You know, Prince, if you turned back into a young man with looks close to these… I might even be attracted to you.”
And while Corinna had stolen the magic book back to her room, she left the painting where it was when she finally decided to leave. It belonged in the sealed off, protective room at the end of the hall. There no one would hurt it or make it fade away. There Alexander was safe with his mother, eternally young and beautiful.
Chapter 12 – To Break a Curse
“You can do this. It’s only a small hurdle. We just have to get over this one, and then it’s up to Gavin.”
Corinna held the reins and galloped around the yard. She was almost to the house before she reached the hurdle. Archimedes leapt it easily, for it was only two feet high, and then they turned to face the rest of the yard. Without hesitation, the horse and rider sped straight back the way they’d come. Gavin was heading toward them at the same speed, this time riding Elaine. In Gavin’s hand was a dull, wooden spear object, a lance. In Corinna’s hand, she held a trusty, durable shield.
Gavin cried out, urging Elaine faster, and the two riders hurtled ever quicker to each other. Corinna braced herself. Archimedes ducked his head. Gavin plowed straight through. His lance crashed into Corinna’s shield, and it was all Corinna could do to stay on her horse. She gripped the reigns tight as she was pushed back. It caused Archie to falter and stop, obeying the command of the reins, but at least Corinna hadn’t fallen off and broken her neck.
“Whoo! Great job, Gavin!” Belle called out from Corinna’s right. Righting herself in the saddle, Corinna turned to look at her friend. Belle was sitting on the ground beneath the yew tree, legs tucked neatly to the side and wearing that same yellow dress Corinna had first seen her in. Gavin nearly slid off his horse when he dropped the lance, and Corinna had no doubts it was because of Belle’s cheering.
“Can we stop now?” Corinna asked, rolling her shoulder and groaning. “I don’t think I was cut out for being a jousting target.”
Gavin trotted over and shrugged. “I suppose that is enough for today. Sorry about your arm. I tried to glance off as much as I could, but I need to train like it is the true tournament.”
“Oh, Gavin. You’ll be here during the tournament,” Belle reminded as the two riders slid off and released the horses of their burdens. Archimedes snorted and bent his head to eat. Elaine complained about her saddle, but Gavin made no move to take it off.
“True as that is, I will get away from here one day, and I shall be a knight. If I slack on my training, I will never achieve my dream,” he said and pat his horse on the rump. She grunted but trotted off into the field regardless.
“Okay, well good luck then,” Belle said and motioned for him to sit down beside her. Corinna was already stripping the shield from her arm and sitting on Belle’s other side. “Come on. It’s time to eat.”
As Belle set up her picnic, Corinna tried to work out the ache in her own neck. Gavin took note and came up beside her. With an easy press and turn of his hand, he hit what felt like a nerve and sent Corinna into mush. Her whole back and arm had gone numb for a moment, but as the feeling returned, Corinna noticed she didn’t hurt anymore.
“Maybe you should change your dream to something like a physician. Whatever you just did felt amazing,” she said.
“Thank you, but no. I must be a knight,” Gavin said and sat on the other side of Belle.
“How did you become a servant here if you went to Paesaggia with the goal of becoming a knight? I’ve always been curious about that,” Belle admitted. Gavin lowered his head and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Ah,” he allowed. “Well I came at a most inopportune moment. The knights were out on patrol when I arrived, but the king promised me a chance to join them once they returned. He told me to become a servant in his castle and watch knight training while I earned a living working. It sounded like a good deal, so I took it. It was my way in, I thought, but only a week after I began work I was sent to stay here and told I could not leave for at least three years. The king’s deal was truly just a manner with which to ensnare me to work where no other servants wanted to work.”
“But you’ve already been here for three years. Why haven’t you left?” Belle asked.
“Well… one reason is because next spring I will be twenty and have seniority over many other servants. With that seniority, I can move myself back to the palace and be granted a full audience with the king. That is all I need to ensure my place as a knight. I will not take no for an answer this time. I know his tricks now,” the tanned male said. His jaw was firmly set, and his gaze stared off into the distance as though seeing the events play out before his very eyes.
“Well best of luck to you, Gavin. I just hope your determination doesn’t get you killed in the service of the wrong king,” Corinna said.
“I as well,” Gavin agreed.
And so they sat on the grass in a triangle pattern with a small tablecloth between them, folded once so it would fit. From a large, woven basket, Belle produced some sandwiches, a few apples, a small pitcher of water, and three cups. She left several carrots in the bottom, but those were for the horses.
“Now I know it isn’t much, but the supply messenger hasn’t come yet this month, so we’re running a bit low on some things,” she said and moved the basket out of the way.
“Supply messenger? I thought most of the food grew here or that Morgana made it for you,” Corinna spoke up. Belle let out a small laugh.
“Oh, definitely not. My Lord’s father sends a carrier once a month that restocks the cupboards and home supplies since we can’t leave. Morgana does supply some of the food, such as the apples we’re eating, but you have to be careful with magically grown food,” she said.
“Why? Is it poisonous?” Corinna asked, pulling the juicy, red fruit from her lips where she’d been about to bite into it. Like everything else Morgana grew, they were perfect apples – luscious, bountiful, flavorful fruits. Corinna had eaten one before, after riding with Gavin the other day, and another few during meals, but now she wondered if that had been a bad decision.
“No. Not really,” Belle answered. She busied herself with straightening all the ingredients in her sandwich so that it was a perfect column of food.
“That isn’t making me feel much better,” Corinna said. The dark skinned
girl shrugged and left her sandwich alone.
“Well it’s perfectly fine for a person with magic to eat magically grown food. It makes them stronger in their skills because the food is infused with magic, so they actually benefit more from magically grown food than from normal food,” she explained.
“However,” Gavin intruded. “Should a normal human being eat too much magical food, it acts as a poison would and kills them. An apple every few days is harmless, of course. To overload yourself, you would have to eat probably two every day or so. The hard part about it is that magically grown food tastes so good that people end up eating too much without realizing it. You have to have a small stomach or good self control to not eat more than an apple a week - like we do.”
“Yes. So don’t go stealing the apples for fun and eating them. I wouldn’t like watching you gorge yourself and die from a magic overload,” Belle half teased. She brought her own apple to her lips and bit into it. Gavin tried to be discreet about watching her.
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