The name on the last frame was the most interesting to Cora. Just beneath a painting of a ghastly looking young man with thick black hair and steely gray eyes was the name, “Treinbaulm Michael.” Cora inspected this painting for some time, noting the man’s sour expression and disrespectful sneer. He wore the same suit of arms that Celius was sporting in his painting and Cora stared hard at both of the men, searching for a clue in this rapidly emerging mystery. Why did a painting of a Trienbaulm, who her parents seemed to despise so, hang in their castle? And why did he and Celius wear the same uniform? Deep in Michael’s eyes she saw an emptiness that seemed to have transcended the years. Cora walked away from the painting with a cold, unpleasant sensation and headed back to the Great Room with two or three wary glances behind her.
The fourth corridor was shorter than the other three, and Cora found herself at a tall set of double doors after only a few minutes of walking. She grasped one of two round wrought-iron rings and set her weight against it. The door creaked open.
Before she’d even glanced inside to survey the room’s contents, the familiar, musty smell of aged pages filled her nose. Cora was transported to memories of up-all-night book reports and lazy days with her nose stuck in a good fairy tale as she beheld the vast library that lay before her. The stacks were so high that a nearby ladder seemed to be the only way to reach the bulk of the texts.
Row upon row of ancient-looking volumes stretched before her eyes as Cora devoured titles such as Livestock 101: Lullabies with Little Bo Peep, Goldilocks: An Autobiography and Snow White’s Cookbook for Tiny Appetites. She must have wandered among the forest of literature for nearly an hour, gazing in awe at all the titles that undoubtedly only existed in Clouden. Each one amazed her more than the next, but it was the book titled The Mark: History of the Match that Cora pulled from its dusty spot on the shelf.
Cora panned the room for a cozy place to read but only found peculiar claw-footed tubs lined in carpet, each one filled with a collection of mismatched, brightly colored pillows. She climbed inside one, and finding herself quite comfy, she settled in to read.
The first few chapters of The Mark were dull by anyone’s standards, but Cora was pleased to find the third one brimming with information.
“The Mark is a rare occurrence in Clouden,” she read aloud. “It is unique to the pair of Cloudenians it graces, yet is identical on both persons. It appears behind the right ear in all cases and is a sign of a match between the partners. The Mark always appears on a pair that is born at the same moment in time, and its origin is unknown. It indicates a bond between the two partners that is stronger than any other.”
Cora’s mind was alive with questions. Her hand rose instinctively to touch behind her ear, as if she may be able to somehow feel “The Mark.” She thought back to the soothing sound of Patrick’s voice and recalled the immediate connection she’d felt with him. Perhaps he was her “match.” But if that was true, why would her parents want to keep her from him? And why did they detest the Treinbaulms so? After all, they had a picture of one hanging in the castle!
Cora placed The Mark back on the shelf and made her way out of the library. Her stride was quick and full of purpose as she marched back up the hallway and into the Great Room. She stared across the expansive space toward the entrance to the Finnegan bedchambers and thought briefly of going to her parents for answers. No, I shouldn’t wake them, she thought. But she needed to talk to someone.
Cora scoured all corners of the Great Room but Motley was nowhere to be found. She plopped down beneath the limbs of the tree to wait for him, but it was only moments before the bubbling cauldron of questions inside her caused Cora’s agitation to spill over. She popped back up again and began to pace the room. She passed by each corridor, circling the room again and again. By her fourth pass by the dining hall, her stomach gave a low growl, and so she exited, deciding to get a post-midnight snack.
A clank, clank, clank echoed down the hallway as Cora made her way to the kitchen. She poked her head through the dining hall entrance to find Motley inside, licking away at a large bowl that was now almost empty. She was irritated, and at this point too tired to hide it.
“Thanks a lot!” Cora snapped from the doorway.
Motley looked up with an expression of alarm, his eyes wide. “Oh, it’s you,” he said with a relieved sigh and then returned to licking his bowl.
“Yeah, it’s me. It’s me who’s been traipsing up and down these hallways all night. And what have you been up to?”
“Hey, I finished my hallways and headed here for a little reward,” he defended. “I was gonna come and get you as soon as I was done.”
Cora felt a little guilty as Motley’s goofy enjoyment faded to shame. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired,” she said with an apologetic shrug.
“It’s okay.” He returned to the bowl now, licking up the last few scraps.
Cora suspected that her friend was still a little hurt but decided she was too sleepy to tiptoe around him.
“So, what did you find?” she asked. In light of the curious facts she’d unearthed, Cora was eager to hear what Motley had discovered.
“Mmmm, not much,” Motley admitted, finally abandoning the bowl and turning to face her. “I ran into two locked doors and then a room that I’m pretty sure was Celius and Beatrice’s.”
“Did you go in?”
“Well, not exactly.” He was looking at the ground now, scuffing his front paw back and forth against the floor. “I could hear them talking inside. I felt bad interrupting.”
Though disappointed by his findings, Cora didn’t have the energy to stay mad at Motley and was more concerned with finding someone to tell her adventures to anyhow. He was slack-jawed by the end of her tale and could scarcely move his mouth fast enough to start asking questions.
“So do you think Patrick’s your match?” he blurted, as if eager to spit out his first query in order to faster make it to the next.
“I dunno. I guess, maybe?” Cora replied. She’d hoped that Motley might have some insight to offer, rather than echoing her own confusion.
Motley was rolling his eyes around in their sockets now, as if searching his brain for bits of information. All he seemed able to find were more questions. “Why is there is a painting of a Treinbaulm in the castle?” he finally asked, as if Cora ought to know.
“Got me there,” she confessed.
Motley continued to expound unending questions that Cora had no answers to until she found herself nodding off. The fatigue of a long night had finally caught up with her and she suggested they should head to bed. Though unsure quite how she arrived there, Cora soon found herself tucked in bed and halfway to dream land.
Eleven: A Matched Meeting
Serene fluttered into Cora’s room promptly at 8:00 the next morning. Though Cora’s body begged her to stay in bed a few minutes longer, the queen was bent on rousing her daughter and would not be dissuaded. Cora noted that Serene was being particularly attentive, first selecting a beautiful gown that she pointed out was made of silk spun by a family of Clouden’s finest silkworms, then offering to do Cora’s hair.
“What’s going on?” Cora asked, studying her mother carefully. Serene picked at beads on the pale lilac gown, seemingly too distracted to reply. “Mom?” Cora asked, trying to get Serene’s attention.
“What do you mean, sweetheart?” the queen innocently replied.
Cora didn’t even have time to reply before Serene broke, speaking apologetically, “I’m so sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to be short with you last night but there are some things about the past that you just don’t understand. Please, don’t hate me. Please.”
It was obvious that Serene wasn’t well acquainted with what it meant to be the mother of a teenager. Had she been around for the last turbulent year of Cora’s life, she’d have accepted the fact that her daughter probably hated her half the time.
“Oh, Mom, I don’t hate you,” Cora said, sighing.
The l
ight in Serene’s eyes returned as she gathered up the gown in her arms and hugged it tightly, as if it were Cora. “Oh, I’m so very glad!” she exclaimed with shiny eyes. “And guess what? I have a surprise for you!”
Cora’s eyes widened, mirroring her mother’s expectant, hopeful gaze.
“Your father and I have decided to throw you a proper welcome-home party!”
Cora wasn’t quite certain how to react. She’d never been much of a hit at parties. She was usually the loser who hung out by the buffet too long. At her aunt’s wedding a snickering pair of boys had actually started shooting spitballs at her and calling her “Miss Piggy” after she lingered near the food for an extended period. A great knot began to grow in Cora’s stomach as she conjured a foreboding image of a room full of Cloudenians pointing and laughing at her. She wondered if they had spitballs here.
“You don’t seem pleased.” The light was fading from Serene’s eyes again.
Cora couldn’t stand to see that gleam die. “Oh, no, Mom, it sounds great,” she lied.
Serene wasn’t fooled and drew close to her daughter with a rutted brow. “What’s wrong, honey? I thought you’d be happy.”
“I am, really,” Cora lied again.
Serene stared at her daughter. She obviously wasn’t buying into Cora’s repeated assurances. Mrs. Catlin would’ve given up already, Cora thought.
“It’s just that––”
“Yes?” Serene made an encouraging move forward.
“It’s just that…well…I always get picked on at parties. I’ve never been to one that didn’t make me feel like a fat, ugly nobody.”
Serene quietly withdrew a small, silver mirror from the nightstand near Cora’s bed and held it up so that Cora could see her reflection. “Does this look like a fat, ugly nobody to you?”
Cora looked at the girl in the mirror and smiled.
“You are only yourself here, Cora. Leave The Backworlds and all of its illusions behind you. You aren’t part of that place now, nor is it part of you.”
Strength swelled in Cora and the girl in the mirror smiled back at her.
“If only we didn’t have to send you to that awful place,” Serene lamented, dropping her head.
Cora saw an opportunity to get some of her questions answered and seized it. “So why was I?”
Serene’s body suddenly tightened. “We’ve already told you that.” She was looking away from Cora now—out the window and into the village below the castle.
“Why do I get this feeling there’s something you’re not telling me?”
“Please, dear, can’t we talk about something else?” The queen frowned, avoiding Cora’s eyes. “The party!” she exclaimed, loudly, her grimace fading. “We must talk of the party!” Her cheeks were pink and eyes smiling once again. “The decorations, the meal—oh, there’s so much to plan and so many to invite!”
Cora surrendered to the whims of her mother and spent breakfast knee-deep in talk of cake frosting and ballroom dancing. Thomas explained that Cora needed a chance to unwind and experience the wonders of Clouden without being burdened by invasions. This talk piqued Cora’s curiosity, but Serene seemed very set on her daughter enjoying the party so Cora kept quiet, determined to give the celebration a chance.
Amid the preparation, Cora had little opportunity to ask her mother for information about the numerous clues she’d uncovered the night prior. She desperately tried to pay proper attention to the party planning, but her head was so immersed in her discoveries that she had a difficult time focusing on the tasks at hand. She had to remember to give Serene an encouraging head nod or an erroneously wide smile whenever she was addressed. Cora’s faked interest seemed to appease everyone involved but they all knew that the party was really more for Serene’s benefit than her daughter’s.
As party planning overtook the castle, the next few days flew by as if they were only seconds. Cora let no opportunity to dig deeper into the mysteries of the past escape, but she wasn’t having much luck at discovering anything but frustration. Serene eluded Cora’s every attempt to pose any non-party-related questions and Thomas busied himself with his party-honey-do-list. The only person left for Cora to pester was Celius.
“Celius, why is your picture hanging up in the library?” she asked innocently one morning after everyone else had left the dining table. She knew that Celius would want to take advantage of any opportunity to discuss his accolades.
He had a grin on his lips before they moved to speak. “Because I’m your father’s second hand!”
“Second hand?”
“Yeah, you know, his backup—his go-to guy,” he boasted. “Why, if it wasn’t for me, your father wouldn’t know what to do.”
“Hmmm,” Cora mused. “So whose picture was in that frame before yours?”
Celius’s grin faded, the color draining from his face like watercolors washed from a canvas. “Er, I don’t know what you mean,” he fibbed, looking at the floor.
“Your name plate, Celius,” she said almost impatiently. “It’s silver and all the others are gold. It looks like it was put over the top of another name.” Cora wasn’t going to let Celius shake her. She’d gone without answers for too long.
“You and all your questions,” Celius mumbled, clearly trying to buy himself some time. “And just what do you think you were doing in the library? I don’t recall you ever going in there.”
Cora wasn’t giving in. She’d seen enough question dodging the past few days to have mastered the art herself. “What are you, my keeper? You don’t know where I have or haven’t been taken in the castle,” she retorted.
“Ah, that’s true, I suppose,” Celius replied, his head hung low.
I’ve got him! Cora thought.
“So? Was there another name on that frame, before yours?”
Celius was fidgeting, looking as though he’d rather be in The Backworlds right now than sitting across from Cora and her intense, questioning eyes. “Ah…well, you see, it’s an old deep wound that I think your parents would most likely not want me discussing with you,” he finally replied. “I won’t go against the wishes of your father. I’m as true to him as to myself. If you want to find out more about that picture, I’m afraid you’ll have to ask him.”
Cora thanked Celius for his honesty and sulked all the way back to her bedroom. It was there that she found Motley sprawled out, taking an afternoon snooze. Cora curled up beside him on his enormous dog bed to sleep her dilemma away. She was just dozing off when Serene burst through the door.
“Well, there you are!”
Cora peeked through her lazy lids and pretended not to rouse.
“I know you’re awake, sleepyhead. Celius said you just left him minutes ago,” Serene teased.
“Okay, so I’m up,” Cora confessed, eyes still closed.
“The party is only a few hours away. We’ve got to start getting you ready!” Serene said with childlike excitement. She was already rushing over to Cora’s side and tugging at her arm. “Get up, get up!”
Cora rolled off the dog bed while Serene rushed about her room, gathering clothing, ribbons, and combs—purposely ignoring her daughter’s behavior. She zoomed around the room until she appeared only as a passing flurry of silk and lace to the half-awake Cora.
“It’s not gonna take me that long to get ready, Mom!” Cora called to Serene. “Why are you rushing so much?”
“I just want everything to be perfect, dear,” the queen replied, a little out of breath.
Just as her mother had wanted, perfect was exactly what Cora felt as she descended a long ivory staircase into the Grand Ballroom.
A gathering of creatures littered the Ballroom, many with faces and figures unlike any she had ever seen. Tiny elves in bits of discarded dishcloths, mittens, and socks stood alongside mammoth creatures with skin of bark and great tree branch antlers. Pockets of gypsies with dark eyes and fine, brightly colored garments looked on as bulbous creatures of pure white light buzzed with the princess�
��s arrival.
The entire room shone with stardust that rained from above, blanketing the faces and shoulders of all the guests. A decadent array of sweet-smelling foods filled every table and a sparkling sculpture of ice in the shape of Pegasus stood at the center of it all. Lastly, Cora spotted her parents just at the foot of the staircase. They were staring at her in the same adoring way that Motley was. Beatrice and Celius were close behind them and beaming as well.
“It’s a packed house,” Motley pointed out, gazing out across the crowded ballroom.
The number of people in attendance overwhelmed Cora. She recalled being tormented by the bullies at school—she knew firsthand that though a person could be kind, when partnered with a group they could just as easily turn cruel. She found herself frozen on the stairway, looking at Serene who offered a reassuring nod. But these were not people. Cora could almost hear her mother speaking to her at they gazed at one another. You are beautiful now, as you always have been. Another glance to Beatrice said the same and reminded Cora that “things are quite different here.” Cora buoyed her courage and held her head high as she descended the remainder of the staircase like a princess.
The evening was filled with laughter, dancing, and magic. Everyone Cora met was genuinely kind and welcoming. The Cloudenians were such an eclectic and beautiful group that they seemed to bring life to the room as they danced joyfully about it. Cora was swept up in their sea of joy and flew around the room in her father’s arms as if she’d been born to dance. She was mesmerized as the ceiling of stardust whizzed around and around above her like she was a shooting star, speeding through the universe.
When her legs began to quake with exhaustion, Cora made her way off the dance floor to search out a resting place. She didn’t get very far before a familiar voice called out to her.
“Is there any chance,” the voice asked, “that the princess would honor me with the next dance?”
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