The Thirteenth Princess

by Diane Zahler

  “Zita, get out from underfoot!” she scolded me. “Attend to your work, child, and let me do mine.” Her voice was rough, and I scurried back belowstairs, more uncertain than ever.

  My sisters’ door was barred to me now, and still I felt eyes upon me as I passed through the long hallways and up the marble staircases of the palace. I had begun to realize that there was magic in the watching, and I remembered that Cook had once told me that Father watched me. I suddenly wondered if they were Father’s eyes on me. The implications of that were terrible: if Father was watching me, and the watcher was the one who had enchanted my sisters, then…I tried to shrug off the thought, but it would not leave me.

  On a Tuesday morning a week after Father had burned my letters, I pulled down my apron from the hook on which it hung in the kitchen cloakroom. When I tied it on, I heard something crackle in the pocket, and I pulled out a piece of brown packaging paper, scrawled with writing. I scanned the signature and saw it was from Breckin. The writing was rough, but I was pleased at the content. Come to the stables tonight if you can, it said. I have something I must show you. B.

  For the first time in days, I felt a little pinch of hope. Perhaps Breckin and Babette had a new plan or had discovered something important. Perhaps there would be something for me to do. But to get safely to the stables I had to escape the eyes that I knew were constantly on me, tracking my every move. I experimented with Babette’s trick and found that if I became something else, I lost the feeling of being watched. That worked when I was still—if I became like a hat stand, for instance, or a pillar. The moment I moved, though, I again felt that scrutiny. I tried another experiment before dinner. When all the serving girls traipsed down the stairs to the kitchen, I mingled with them and used my trick to become one of them. And the watched feeling disappeared.

  After dinner and the clearing up, I pulled on my cloak and became a lamppost on the land bridge. I had to concentrate very hard to keep from shivering in the cold, damp air and to stay a lamppost at the same time, but I knew I was succeeding because I felt no eyes upon me. I waited there for what seemed like hours, until a group of servants—the underbutler Burle and several footmen—came out, headed to the nearest tavern a full two miles away. I became one of them, joking and pushing with the others, until we were safely across the bridge and on the path that led through the woods. Then I peeled off from the group, hearing one of them cry, “Wait! Who is that?” as I fled through the trees toward the stables. Nobody followed me, though, and I arrived at the stables panting from my run.

  Breckin waited for me outside the stable door, and he pulled me inside without speaking. The air was warm with horse smells and hay smells, punctuated by the breathy snorts and whinnies of the inhabitants. It was a cozy place, a friendly place, and I envied Breckin for being able to spend his days there.

  I looked at him, and even in the darkness of the stable I could see that his face was flushed.

  “What is it? What do you need to show me?” I asked him.

  He pointed behind me. “This!” he said with a flourish.

  I turned and gave a yelp. There was someone standing behind me. Moonlight slanted through the stable window, and in its glow I saw that it was Milek.

  “I am so glad to see you!” I cried. “Oh Milek, you must help us!”

  “Breckin has been telling me what has happened,” Milek said, his face somber. “You cannot get a prince, so I am afraid you will have to be content with me. I’ve never fought against magic before, but my sword is at your service, and at your sisters’.”

  “Will you get in trouble for leaving your post?” Breckin asked his brother.

  “A soldier fights his battles as he finds them,” Milek said. “Mine is here, and now.”

  “If we do not do something soon, my sisters will die,” I said flatly. Milek looked at me with concern. I knew he was thinking of Aurelia.

  “It is that bad, then?”

  “They are all bedridden now,” I told him, “too weak to get up, too weak to eat more than a few sips of broth. And yet every night they dress in satin and velvet and dance until dawn. It will kill them soon.” I could not voice my suspicion of my father, though I knew I should. I was wracked with guilt over thinking such a thing of him, and filled with fear that I was putting Milek and Breckin in danger by saying nothing.

  “Then we must act immediately,” Milek said. He reached across the hay and squeezed my hand, and tears rushed to my eyes. It seemed so unlikely that he, a single poor soldier, could help, but I felt my burden lighten just a little.

  “What should we do?” I asked him, sniffling.

  “I think I should meet your witch first,” he said. “Find out if she has any magic that can help us or if she’s learned anything new. Then we will make our plan.”

  We set off for Babette’s, and when we arrived, the chimney was smoking merrily and the cottage was warm and filled with the smell of cinnamon buns baking. Babette had just pulled a trayful from the oven, and we all three were quiet as we chewed and swallowed in a rare moment of contentment.

  “Oh, wonderful, wonderful, ma’am,” Milek said at last, licking buttercream frosting off his fingers. “Only my mother can make a cinnamon bun to rival this.”

  A blush spread across Babette’s wrinkled cheeks, and I suddenly saw how she might have looked when she was a great deal younger. She lowered her eyes. “Well, there’s a little magic in them,” she admitted. “But most of it is just baking.”

  “You have frosting on your nose,” Breckin said to me, and I stuck my tongue out at him and went on eating.

  When we were replete, we sat back, and Babette looked hard at Milek. He was calm under her scrutiny. I could see she liked that. They held each other’s gaze for a long minute, and then Babette said, “So this is our prince. I think you will do very nicely, sir.”

  Milek inclined his head and replied, “Thank you, ma’am. I will surely try my best.”

  Babette turned to me. “You say there is a guard outside the princesses’ door?”

  I nodded.

  “And he has failed in his office, of course. The princesses are still ruining their shoes each night. So there will be a new guard needed. Who better for the job than this brave soldier, lately returned from the Reaches and eager for a new position?”

  I clapped my hands. “Oh, very good! Breckin can introduce him to Burle, the underbutler. I am sure he will give Milek the post. He will have access to my sisters then. But…what next?”

  “You will have to go back below the lake, and Milek will go with you. I think the way will be made clear to you then.” She turned to Milek. “You must follow your heart, young man. Even if it seems that your heart is telling you to do the most foolish thing, do it.”

  Milek smiled. “My heart has not been foolish for these twenty-seven years,” he said. “I do not think it will start now.”

  Babette’s eyes twinkled, but she did not reply. Then she turned to me again. “My dear,” she said, “you have said you think you are being watched by someone. I think it is the magician who has enchanted your sisters.” I nodded but said nothing, hoping she could not read my thoughts. “You must be very careful. Do not be seen with Milek, or with Breckin if you can help it. Remember that if you go with your sisters to the dance, the eyes will be on you.”

  “But I can trick them!” I said excitedly. “I have come and gone freely by fooling the watcher into thinking I am something else.”

  “That may not always work,” Babette warned. “If the witch or wizard figures out what you are doing, you will be exposed. Be careful. All three of you, please be careful!”

  Before we parted, Babette brought out a dark cloak made from a cloth I could not identify. In fact, though I stared hard at it, I could not tell what color it was. Perhaps the brown of autumn leaves, but in a slant of sunlight it looked greenish, and the flickering firelight showed glints of gold.

  “For you,” she said to Milek, and draped the cloak around his shoulders. “
It was once a cloak of invisibility, though most of that magic has worn off. Get your brother to teach you to become other than you are, and this cloak will help you create the illusion. You will not have days to practice as these two have had, so the cloak will give you an extra edge. You will need it.”

  Milek bowed, and the cloak billowed around him. “I thank you, ma’am,” he said. “I hope your faith in me will not prove to be misplaced.”

  “Oh, I think it will not,” Babette said, smiling. “I am a rather mediocre magician, but I am a very good judge of people.”

  We took our leave and walked together through the forest, dodging low-hanging branches heavy with snow. Milek looked back at the cottage and whistled through his teeth to see it in its ruined state. Before we came out of the trees, we taught Milek the art of becoming other, and with the help of his cloak, he soon was able to disappear as well as either of us. We parted company, agreeing to meet again the first night after Milek had secured his new post as the princesses’ guard, and to follow my sisters that night beneath the lake.

  For three nights I crept up to the long hallway at the top of the palace to see who stood before the bedroom door. For the first two nights, the guard was the hapless soul who had been sitting there for weeks as my sisters danced themselves nearly to death. On the third night, the guard was Milek. Unlike the other guard, he saw me, but he gave no sign that he knew me. I was relieved, for I knew the eyes were always on me in those days.

  Burle stayed by the kitchen fire for hours that evening, drinking hard cider and annoying Salina and Bethea with his attentions. I feared he’d never leave. By eleven, though, the girls had escaped to bed and, much to my relief, Burle had left as well. At nearly midnight, I was busy being a broom in the kitchen to escape the watcher when Breckin came in, walking right past me into the pantry. For an instant I became myself again so he could see me, and then—fast enough, I hoped, to fool the ever-watchful eyes—I was a sack of flour in the pantry beside him. Milek arrived not long after, swathed in his cloak. As the clock struck, we heard the dumbwaiter begin its nightly journeys up and down. Six times in all, and then we pulled the dumbwaiter back up and jumped in quickly, squeezing in as tightly as possible. The little cupboard was a tight fit for three, and I winced at the squeaks and moans the cables let out under our weight. Milek was strong enough to control its movement downward, but I could see the strain of it in his face and in the muscles in his arms as he brought us safely to the bottom.

  “Getting up will be a trick!” he whispered as we piled out and began running up the tree-lined path. The light was as odd as it had been the first night, and the trees of silver, then gold as strange and beautiful. This time I did not look back, but Milek did, and when he gasped I knew he had seen the wall of water that followed us as the path rolled up behind.

  “Keep moving!” I told him, and he did, casting awed glances at the diamond forest that we now raced past.

  We reached the castle in time to cross the drawbridge and heaved a collective sigh of relief as the heavy doors slammed behind us. In his rough uniform and beard, Milek looked as out of place in this realm of elegance as Breckin and I, but he showed no discomfort as we walked quickly along the empty corridors, our heels ringing on the marble floors. He paused to stare at the tapestries with their odd scenes and mythic beasts, but Breckin urged him on until we reached the ballroom. From the doorway we peered in. The same sight as before met our eyes: beautiful princesses dancing with handsome men, the orchestra playing and playing its ethereal music, the long tables laden with food that set our mouths watering.

  I glanced at Milek to see if he was tempted by the food, but he was staring out at the dance floor. I followed his gaze to the form of my sister Aurelia, dressed in deepest blue velvet that matched her starry eyes. Her hair was piled atop her head, escaping in delicate wisps that framed her lovely face to great advantage. From this distance, you could not see the lack of sleep and food that drew her skin tight across her cheekbones and shadowed her eyes. She twirled in the arms of her soldier, his uniform putting Milek’s shabby one to shame with its rows upon rows of medals, its sashes and saber. I looked at Milek again, ready with a wry comparison, but he was enrapt.

  “What shall we do?” Breckin whispered. “Should we step out, let them know we are here?”

  Brought back to himself, Milek shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I think we must just watch.”

  “But we have already done that!” I cried. “What good will it do just to watch?”

  Milek put his finger over his lips to hush me, and reluctantly I moved back into the hallway to watch and wait.

  The evening progressed in exactly the same way as the previous one, only this time we did not make the mistake of trying to dance to the music. We explained to Milek what had happened when we did. He was fascinated by everything and looked and listened avidly, as if he were memorizing it all. He even stepped into the ballroom once or twice, with his cloak wrapped around him; the dancers took no heed of him at all. When at last the cock crowed and the orchestra disappeared, we prepared to rush back to the dumbwaiter. We had decided that we could let the princesses go up before we did, since, because it was not Sunday, I did not have to be abed to fool them when they returned, and it was good we did. No matter how Milek and Breckin pulled, they could not raise the dumbwaiter with the three of us inside, so Milek stepped out and helped us rise to the kitchen. We then sent the dumbwaiter back down, and he pulled himself up to our level.

  When Milek jumped out, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “I was afraid—,” I began, then stopped.

  “What?” Breckin asked.

  “I was afraid the dumbwaiter would not go back down after you and I got out,” I admitted. He and Milek looked at me blankly, and then an expression of horror came onto their faces.

  “Left down there, under the lake,” Breckin said hoarsely.

  I interrupted hurriedly. “But it didn’t happen. We needn’t worry.”

  Milek laughed. “I’m very glad I didn’t think of that beforehand. That might have taken away my nerve.”

  “You’d best get back to your post,” I advised him. “It’s nearly dawn, and the household will be stirring.”

  He nodded. “Zita, can you be in your sisters’ room this afternoon? Say, at about two o’clock?” he asked.

  I clasped my hands together. “Oh, do you have an idea? Has your heart told you what to do?” I asked, excited.

  Milek laughed. “I don’t know if it’s my heart telling me. I think more likely it’s my head. But yes, I do have an idea. And it involves speaking with Aurelia. Can you open the door for me at two o’clock?”

  “Yes!” I cried. “I will force my way in if I have to.”

  “No,” he cautioned me. “Don’t make a scene. We need to be quiet.”

  “I don’t know that she’ll speak to you,” I told him.

  “Why?” he asked. “Does she not speak to commoners?”

  “Oh, it’s not that,” I said. “She has a great sympathy and feeling for commoners. But she has not been speaking. None of them has. They are too tired. And they do not speak to men at all. Babette believes it is part of the enchantment.”

  “I see,” he said thoughtfully. “She does not have to speak—not right away, anyway. She just needs to listen.”

  I was desperate to hear more, but Milek refused to tell. He took his leave from us, and Breckin snuck out to return to the stables while I walked wearily up the stairs to my room and collapsed onto my bed.

  I woke a few hours later to the sounds of the housemaids cleaning outside my door. Quickly I looked outside to see if I could judge the time from the slant of the sun, but there was no sun this day. The lowering clouds looked snow-filled. I dressed quickly and ran down to the kitchen. The clock there read one fifteen, and I apologized to Cook for neglecting both the breakfast and the lunch preparation.

  Cook sighed and ruffled my already disheveled hair. “
No need, little Zita,” she said sadly. “No one is eating but the servants and the king. We have not much work to do these days.”

  “Have you something for me to bring up to the princesses?” I asked innocently.

  “I thought you were not allowed up there,” Cook said.

  “I believe they have decided it does not much matter now,” I said sadly. I could play Cook like a pianoforte.

  Cook pulled me to her, and I was pressed in a hug against her warm, yeast-scented bosom. “Poor Zita!” she soothed me. “Yes, you shall bring them their broth. Do try to get them to take a few sips, at least. Perhaps they’ll do it for you.”

  Shortly after, I carried a covered tureen on a tray up the stairs to my sisters’ room. Outside the door, Milek drowsed in his chair, but I did not so much as look at him as I passed by. I knocked sharply, and Nurse opened the door.

  “Zita! What are you doing here?”

  “I just wanted to see my sisters, Nurse,” I pleaded. “I’ve brought them some healing broth.”

  “Dearie, you know I can’t let you in. Your father has left me strict instructions.” Her brow creased with sympathy. “Here, my love. Hand me the broth.”

  I was panicked. I had to get in. I had to open the door and make sure Aurelia listened to Milek. Without warning, and with little effort, I burst into wild tears. I could hear Milek turn in his chair to look at me, and I remembered his warning: Don’t make a scene. But what else could I do?

  “Oh, dearie, dearie, come here. Put that tray down,” Nurse instructed me, pulling me into the room and taking the tray from me. “Just come in and calm down. Dry your poor eyes. Say hello. Then you must leave.”

  I entered the room. I had not been within for many days, and now everything was changed. There was a deathly hush, broken only by the breathing of the twelve girls as they lay in their featherbeds, arms resting at their sides atop the coverlets. The air was stuffy and warm and smoky from the fire, and the room was dim, for the heavy drapes had been pulled across the windows, and little light leaked around their edges. I walked between the beds, reaching out to touch each sister’s limp hand: Aurelia, Alanna, Ariadne, Althea, Adena, and Asenka down one row; Amina, Alima, Akila, Allegra, Asmita, and Anisa up the other. As I walked, I whispered low, “Don’t be afraid. We will help you. Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid.” I do not know whether they heard me; they did not open their eyes or move their heads or even squeeze my hand.