The Sweetest Spell

by Suzanne Selfors

  “Do not arrest anyone,” Prince Beau told the approaching soldiers. Then he pressed close to his mother, his voice quiet but dead serious. “You have violated our laws against slavery, Mother. I’m certain the nobles would be very interested to know about the mineral fields. As would the people who pay your taxes.”

  She raised her hand and I thought she might slap her son. But the hand lingered in the air for a moment, then retreated behind her back. “This was your idea?” She seemed surprised, as if a man who’d invented a flying balloon only had half a brain. “You would threaten your mother?”

  He lowered his voice further. Only the Royal Secretary and I could catch the words. “I do not threaten. I’m simply trying to do what is right. You are destroying Anglund with your taxes and your greed.”

  The golden doors flew open again. “Your Majesties!” a soldier cried. The audience, who’d been standing frozen, trying to hear the exchange between the queen and Prince Beau, twisted around to face the door. “The people have stormed the gates! They have entered the city! They are armed and are demanding the king’s head.”

  Color drained from the queen’s painted lips. Trembling with rage, she fell back onto her throne, her hands gripping the armrests. The king, who’d taken a brief nap, fluttered his eyes and asked, “Has the tournament begun?”

  Chaos erupted. Women and men screamed, feathered hats flew into the air, and little dogs yapped. The musicians jumped from the balcony and ran. Guests trampled one another as they tried to escape the throne room. The Royal Secretary tried to join the stampede, but Prince Beau grabbed his arm and held him in place. The king and queen sat on their thrones, their faces slack with disbelief and confusion. Prince Beau and I, and the Flatlander girls, remained calm, for we knew there were no crowds. We knew the soldier at the door was really the Baron of Lime in disguise.

  “Mother, Father,” Prince Beau said. “You are in danger. You must flee Londwin City immediately.”

  “They are approaching,” the baron cried. “Make your escape. Now!”

  Queen Beatrice was already out the back door by the time Prince Beau and I had helped the king from his throne.

  The prince’s flying balloon waited in the inner courtyard. Its basket bounced like an impatient child, as if eager to get to the sky. Once the king and queen were safely onboard, the Baron of Lime, still disguised as a soldier, climbed in and removed the first stone. “Where are we going?” the king asked.

  “To the winter chalet,” the prince answered. He’d dragged the Royal Secretary along and kept him close. “It is not too far for the balloon. You will be safe.”

  The baron emptied the last stone and the balloon quickly lifted.

  “Good-bye, Father. Good-bye, Mother,” Prince Beau called.

  The king waved, his expression as confused as ever. The queen pointed at me. “We won’t forget what you did!” she cried. “We’ll never forget. I’ll never forget!”

  “Nor will I!” I yelled back.

  The prince waited until the balloon had disappeared behind one of the palace’s towers. Then he turned to the Royal Secretary, who stood empty-handed, his eyes bulging as if his high collar was cutting off all circulation to his head. “Deliver a proclamation to the crowds outside the city wall. Tell them I am in command. Let them know that all new taxes are immediately revoked. Then order the release of all those enslaved in the mineral fields. Send wagons to carry those men to their homes.”

  I wanted to hear the rest of the prince’s proclamation, but there was one thing, and one thing only, on my mind. “Where’s the dungeon?”

  “They’ve already been released,” Prince Beau said with a smile. “Even though we’re not getting married, I still wanted to get you a wedding gift.”

  “Where—?”

  “They’re waiting for you at the palace gates.”

  Chapter Fifty-four

  The crown of roses tumbled from my head. Why bother picking it up? I was no longer a royal bride.

  My footsteps echoed as I ran through the empty throne room, through the golden door, and past the golden swans. It was at times like this, when my heart wanted to be somewhere but my body slowed me down, that I used to curse my curled foot. But if I’d learned anything over these months, it was that the foot was part of who I was. If I’d been born normal, I wouldn’t have been left at the edge of the forest. I wouldn’t have met Snow. If I’d been able to run as fast as everyone else, I might not have been swept downriver. I wouldn’t be the girl I now was.

  But there was no reason why I couldn’t curse the stupid pointed wedding shoes. They tried their best to trip me as I turned down the hallway and hurried beneath the ceiling with its painted cloud-scape. When walking along this same white marble floor with Griffin weeks earlier, I’d imagined I was being led into the everafter. But the royal palace had turned out to be part of the real world—the unpredictable, crazy world where a peasant girl can be blessed with magic, rise to fame, and become a prince’s bride.

  Then give everything up and become a simple peasant girl once again.

  Warm summer air wafted over me as I stumbled into the main courtyard, kicking up soot with my desperate steps. It felt ages ago that I’d watched the bestowing of coal in this very place. Gray, soot-stained tents now covered the grimy cobblestones. Men with numbers painted on their chests mingled around the tents. Sweaty men. Burly men. Growling, feisty, fight-loving men. Some punched bags of flour. Others punched one another as they got ready for the day’s tournament. They didn’t yet know that the tournament would be canceled, due to the fact that King Elmer was floating away. Most of the men stared at me as I stumbled past. In my white wedding gown I stood out like a single daisy in a field of ash.

  “Emmeline!” It was Griffin. He strode right up and stood before me. The dark circles under his eyes and the beard made him look much older. He was covered in grime, his clothes torn, his hair filthy—he looked terrible, like he’d been locked in a dungeon.

  “Griffin!” I threw my arms around his waist. “I’m so happy to see you. I didn’t know about the dungeon. I thought she gave you the reward. I’m so sorry.”

  He hugged back. “I’m happy to see you too,” he said quietly. Then he pulled away and looked down at me, confusion knotting his brow. “What are you doing out here? I thought you were getting married. And what have you done to your hair?”

  “I didn’t get married and my hair will be red again, but it will take a while.” I looked up at him. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he said, picking a piece of straw from his hair. “Wait, did you just say you didn’t get married?” I nodded. “Why not? He’s a prince.”

  “He’s a very nice person but I don’t love him. And he doesn’t love me.” I looked around. My legs twitching, my heart beating like a bird’s, I couldn’t stand still. Where was he? “Griffin, do you know—?”

  “I have something to tell you, Emmeline.” He gently squeezed my shoulders, holding me in place so he could look into my eyes. His hands were as big as bear paws. “I want you to know that if you bid on me at the next husband market, I will accept.” He half-smiled. “What do you think?” A slight tremble ran through his fingers. His face flushed. Was Griffin Boar nervous? Was he was afraid I’d reject him?

  A pair of fighters walked past, arguing about something. A cluster of kitchen boys handed out apples and meat pies. In the distance, a servant stood on a ladder, polishing the golden gate. “I shared the magic.”

  “Huh?”

  “I shared the magic. I gave it to all the Flatlander girls and women who came to Londwin City looking for help. Now they can all make chocolate.”

  He let go of my shoulders and took a step back. “I see.” I thought he’d walk away right then. Thought he’d tell me to “move out of his way” so he could go meet these other girls who were going to be rich. But he didn’t. He cleared his throat and softened his voice. “Look, Emmeline, I still want … I mean, I still think that we should …” He rubbed h
is neck. “What I’m trying to say is that even though you’re not perfect, there’s something about you that I really like and I …” He folded his arms and frowned. “What are you doing?”

  I was circling around him, my gaze scanning the crowded courtyard.

  “You’re looking for him, aren’t you? You’re looking for that Owen fellow.”

  “Aye, I am,” I said. “Where is he? Is he okay?”

  “You choose him over me, is that it?”

  “Choose?” I circled again. “What do you mean? I didn’t know I had a choice.”

  “Well, you do.” Griffin Boar sighed. “He loves you.”

  I froze. The courtyard noise faded away and all I heard was my own breathing.

  “Where is he?” I practically screamed as I grabbed Griffin’s arm.

  “He thought you’d gotten married,” Griffin said. “He said he couldn’t bear to stay and celebrate your wedding to another.”

  “He left?” Tears filled my eyes.

  “Owen!” a voice called. A tent rustled and an enormous man stepped out, the number one painted on his chest. “I forgot to tell you something. Do you remember that fat promoter, the one from your village? He said you could ride home with him.”

  My entire body stiffened. I followed the man’s one-eyed gaze across the cobblestones, past another tent, until it rested on a pair of soot-covered boots. Slowly, scared to death of disappointment, I lifted my gaze up a torn pant leg, up a bare chest, up a sun-colored neck, and onto the face that I’d seen in my dreams every single night since first seeing it in his bedroom.

  I didn’t need to call out his name because he was already looking at me. He’d seen me first.

  Chapter Fifty Five

  As it turned out, Peddler’s dead body wasn’t needed. The prince sent orders for us to be released. Peddler chose his death, so I suppose I shouldn’t have felt sorry for him. He wanted to escape the misery he felt after losing his daughter. As I gave him once last glance, I tried to remember the man I once knew—the magical man with the pockets of treasures. But then I realized that Griffin was already heading up the dungeon stairs to chase after the woman I loved. I forgot all about Peddler.

  By the time I reached fresh air, Griffin was long gone. If he found Emmeline first, my chances would be slim at best. He’d remind her that Flatlanders marry Flatlanders. He’d tell her he loved her. He’d do whatever it took to win her.

  I asked around. Fighters, servants, and soldiers all told me that the royal wedding had already taken place. That I was too late. She’d never be mine. I’m not going to lie and say I wanted to impale myself on a knife the way Peddler had, but I can’t remember a time I’d ever felt so hopeless. A sudden chill possessed me, as if I’d fallen into the River Time.

  But then, there she was. What was she doing in the courtyard amid the fighters’ tents? Griffin stood next to her. They were talking. She was shaking her head. Then one-eyed Henry called my name and the next thing I knew, Emmeline was standing in front of me. What would I say now? Offer my congratulations? Pretend to be happy?

  “Emmeline.” I reached for her, then let my arms fall to my sides. She was married. I shouldn’t touch her. But I wanted to whisk her off her feet and carry her from that courtyard. Take her home and pretend none of this had ever happened. Put her back into my bed and never leave her side.

  “Owen,” she said, her voice as warm as the courtyard’s air. Though her hair had changed—black and hanging in thin braids—her eyes were the same deep green and they pulled me in. Were those tears at the corners? She grabbed my hands. “I thought you were dead.” Her fingers trembled. I pressed my hands around hers, as tight as I could. “I thought Peddler had killed you.”

  “He missed my lung. I was lucky.”

  She smiled. “I’m so happy you’re alive.”

  “I’m pretty happy about that too.” I glanced at the dress, which clung to her body like cream. “Your wedding dress,” I said, letting go of her hands. Unable to hide my disappointment, I winced. “You got married.”

  “No,” she said. “No, no, no, no, no. There was no wedding.”

  “But everyone said—”

  “We didn’t get married,” she insisted. “We’re not getting married. I don’t love him. And besides, he’s promised to someone else.”

  My heartbeat doubled. One man down, one more to go. “What about Griffin? He said you were going to bid on him at the husband market. Is that true?”

  “I don’t love Griffin, either.”

  Emmeline and I both looked across the cobblestones where Griffin was sitting on a bench next to one of the fighters. He stared into a mirror as he shaved his face—his ridiculously handsome face.

  I stuck my hands in my pockets. “Let me get this straight. You’re not going to marry the prince of Anglund, who will one day be king, and you’re not going to marry Griffin, the most popular guy in the Flatlands?”

  Her eyes turned fiery. “What’s so difficult to understand?” she snapped. “I don’t love them.”

  We stared into each other’s eyes. Why didn’t I say anything? What was the matter with me? My feelings were practically seeping out of me but I couldn’t put them into words. “I’m sorry,” we both said.

  “Why are you sorry?” I asked.

  “Because it’s my fault Peddler stabbed you. Your parents were so nice to me and you got hurt because of me. Because of the chocolate.”

  “Wait a minute.” I frowned. “You have no reason to apologize. I should have saved you. I’m the one who blew it. If I’d saved you—”

  “If you’d saved me I never would have learned the truth about the magic.” She stepped closer. “I never would have learned the truth about my people.”

  I wasn’t sure what she was talking about. All I could focus on was how close her face was. I wanted to take her chin in my hand. I wanted to kiss her. God, how I wanted to kiss her!

  She reached out and touched the number two, still painted on my chest. Now was the time to tell her how I felt. Except that one-eyed Henry stood over by that tent, watching with a stupid grin on his face. And Griffin was watching us too, as were some of the fighters.

  “Come on,” I said. “There’s no privacy here.” I took her hand and led her through the golden gates and out onto the wide city boulevard. I knew not to walk too fast so she wouldn’t have trouble keeping up. Unfortunately, the street was crowded, offering little privacy. The people of Londwin City were mingling with merchants and tax-collectors, with girls from the Flatlands and people with powdered faces. But this crowd wasn’t acting like the one I’d seen outside the city wall. No one cried out in protest, no one waved weapons or shook fists. Smiles and laughter filled the air. Each Flatlander girl had a bucket at her feet and was handing out something to the delight of the crowd. “Are all those buckets filled with chocolate?” I asked. “You’ve been working hard.”

  “I didn’t make any of it,” Emmeline told me. “They made it. I shared the magic with each of them.”

  “Hi, Emmeline,” one of the girls called. Emmeline waved back.

  “You shared the magic?” Had I heard her correctly? “I didn’t know you could do that.”

  “I didn’t know either until I got here. The magic is a gift, Owen. It was a gift to my people. All of my people. It doesn’t belong just to me.” Sadness suddenly filled her eyes. “Are you disappointed?”

  “Why would I be disappointed?”

  “Because now that lots of girls can make chocolate, I won’t be the richest girl in the kingdom. I won’t be famous or important anymore.”

  “What are you talking about? Do you think I only care about the chocolate?” I couldn’t bear one more second standing next to her. I pulled her close, pressing my chest against hers, and kissed her.

  Chapter Fifty-six

  Owen Oak kissed me.

  He wrapped his arms around my waist and held me so close I could feel his heart pounding. Or was it my heart? I’m not sure but someone’s heart was goin
g to burst. But then I could only think about his lips, which were soft and pressed against mine. I’d never been kissed before. Warmth flowed over my entire body, the way it does when I make chocolate—only this was better. At that moment I didn’t ask why. I didn’t care why. It felt so good. We might have kissed forever if two merchants hadn’t bumped into us on their way to get more chocolate.

  “Emmeline,” Owen said, his voice heavy as if he’d just woken from a nap. “I want to tell you something. I want to tell you how I feel.”

  “Wait,” I said. Was this really happening? He’d kissed me and now he was looking at me with an expression both pained and happy. I knew that expression. I wore it every time I thought about how much I loved him.

  “Wait,” I repeated. “Before you say anything else, I need to do something.” This was the moment I’d long dreaded—the moment when all of me had to be revealed. I walked to the edge of the boulevard and sat on a low wall that encircled a swan fountain. I pulled up the hem of my once pure-white dress, now stained with dungeon grime thanks to Griffin’s and Owen’s hugs. I began to unlace my right wedding shoe.

  “What are you doing?” Owen asked.

  “I need to show you.”

  He sat next to me. “Emmeline, you don’t have to do this. I know all about your foot.”

  “I’ve spent my whole life hiding it. I want to show you.” I took a long breath. Then, carefully, I pulled my foot from the shoe’s velvet padding that had held it in place. Owen took the shoe and set it on the ground. My heart pounded as I unrolled the white knee-length stocking. I knew he’d seen my curled foot before, but this time it was my choice. As I pulled the stocking free, I watched from the corner of my eye for his reaction.

  He didn’t flinch, didn’t grimace, didn’t smile. He sighed, as if bored. “Is that all you got?” he asked. Then he pointed to a long wrinkled scar on his arm. “See that? That’s where I leaned up against an ironsmith’s furnace.” He turned his back to me. “See that?” Another scar ran across his lower back. “I fell off my horse and landed on a rock.” He turned back around. “See that? That’s where Peddler stabbed me and it’s going to leave another scar.” A wound lay just below his ribs. “As you can see, I’m a mess.”