An Unnatural Beanstalk

by Brittany Fichter

  “I suppose I had always hoped to have the chance to undo what my friend began. But I never found that chance. Until now. So,” she folded her hands and looked at Eva with the same expectant stare that her mother had often worn when she wanted one of the children to admit to something they had done, “is there something you would like to tell me? Or should I begin guessing and risk spoiling those well-made plans?”

  Eva swallowed. Telling Mrs. McConnell of her plans was risky. Should the housekeeper be lying, the duke would find out and Eva would risk everyone and everything she had worked so hard to save. But . . . if there was a chance that the head housekeeper, the woman the duke trusted more than anyone else in the world, was telling the truth, Eva might just stand the chance of not only succeeding in her plans but executing them to the fullest. She stared hard at Mrs. McConnell for a long moment. She wasn’t sure what she saw that convinced her exactly, but in the end, she knew she had to try.

  “I would like to honor him with a song,” she said slowly, “to express to him the depth of my most sincere emotions so that he might be privy to the honest love that fills my heart.”

  Mrs. McConnell began to smile. “And how might I help you in expressing such feelings?”

  Eva couldn’t stop the grin that spread across her face. She took the paper from her reticule that listed the order of events for the wedding ceremony and celebration. She held it up so that Mrs. McConnell could see the changes she had scratched on the paper.

  “Right now, my betrothed has planned for me to demonstrate my abilities on the harp after the ceremony, during refreshments.”

  Mrs. McConnell looked at the paper. “So that’s your only requested change?”

  Eva grinned. “I would like to make sure that my song comes first.”

  18

  I Can Explain

  Eva drew in one shaky breath after another in an effort not to pass out. Part of her wondered why she hadn’t done this before. The other part of her was screaming in her head, demanding to know why she was doing this at all. She didn’t know how to control her magic. She didn’t even like it! How, for all that was good and green, did she expect to beat the duke and his tangled plans?

  She leaned a little farther out over the balcony’s edge to try and see him better. He looked ridiculous in his green suit with all its puffs and frills and lace. Even the shoulders of his green suit were puffy. He swore it was all the rage in Astoria, but Eva highly doubted that.

  At least he had let her wear white instead of green. He’d made a big fuss about it, of course.

  “I’m not sure that would be appropriate after your little . . . tryst with Jack,” he’d said the day before as a servant followed him around his study and tried to polish his fingernails whenever he quit moving, which wasn’t often. “But I suppose I shall offer you the benefit of the doubt and let you continue with the white gown. Wouldn’t do for all the visiting dignitaries to think I was wedding a woman of loose morals.”

  Eva had colored at the insinuation, and had been very close to retorting that the duke’s poetry had gone a good deal further in its musings than Jack had ever even approached in real life. But instead, she chose to change the subject.

  No, nothing with Jack had ever truly transpired. And perhaps it was for the better. They would never see one another again. They couldn’t. Not with Jack’s life on the line. For if they ever did meet, even by accident, there was a good chance he would demand to know why she had turned him out. And she still wouldn’t be able to tell him, tomorrow or twenty years later, as there had been no date of expiration on the contract, so she assumed it held power for the rest of her life.

  Still . . . how she would have liked that kiss out on the balcony. They had been so close.

  She was jarred from her thoughts as the duke ran over to one of the tables spread out across the lawn, dipped his finger right in a guest’s goblet, and tasted it. The guest made a slight grimace but said nothing as the duke went on to describe in great detail all he knew about wine.

  Pride, she nodded to herself, would be his downfall. He could plan all he wanted, but his excessive pride had made it rather easy for him to accept her act of defeat and believe her to be in love with him. After she had devised her plan and began acting as though she’d given up, the duke had really seemed to believe her. He’d even gone on to compose several new sonnets to read aloud to her as they prepared for the ceremony, each line worse than the last.

  Well, he could have his awful sonnets. He could even think himself in love, and because of the contract, she would have to marry him in the end. But she would make sure that no one else would ever again have to suffer the consequences of her unwanted gift. Not now, not ever. They might die despising one another and as penniless as robins, should the duke be punished for his plotting, but she would not allow him to use her anymore.

  Mrs. McConnell turned Eva toward the mirror as she had a few days prior during the fitting. Unlike last time, however, there was no sorrow in Mrs. McConnell’s blue eyes. Only bright determination. She waved the other servant girls out of the room, then whispered in Eva’s ear.

  “Are you ready?”

  Eva took a deep breath and then shook her head. “No. But let’s go.”

  Mrs. McConnell escorted her to the side door, where they stood and waited for their signal to walk out onto the lawn. As they waited, Eva peeked through the window to get a glimpse of what was supposed to be her wedding. What she saw shocked her.

  Hundreds of people sat out on the lawn in a semicircle, some on blankets and others on chairs from inside the mansion. They all faced the roofed platform that had been set up for the wedding where the officiant was preparing. Yellow climbing roses and vines with little white flowers covered the platform’s sides so much that none of the actual wood was visible. Most of the people looked very thin, and some of the children were even chewing blades of grass. Eva’s heart twisted as she watched them. This was her hour. Whether or not he had planned for a rebellion, he was going to get one. And it would be spectacular.

  “Alright,” Mrs. McConnell said. “It’s time.”

  With a meaningful nod, Eva placed her arm on the older woman’s once more. With her parents unavailable to present her to the groom, she had requested that Mrs. McConnell be her escort. The duke had been delighted.

  “See?” He’d beamed at her. “You’re finding your place here already. You’ll be at home in no time!”

  Eva smiled wryly to herself as she and Mrs. McConnell left the house and began the long walk toward the official presiding over the ceremony. Unlike some of the other kingdoms in the continent, Eva had been notified that Guthwardians thought it was bad luck for the bride to walk directly toward the groom. Rather, the groom and the bride started off on opposite sides of the semicircle and walked around its perimeter, meeting together just before the officiant. Just running willy-nilly down the aisle was a disaster waiting to happen, one of the maids explained solemnly when Eva had asked. It demonstrated that the bride would do all the work. No, it was better if the groom had to work a little to get to the bride as well.

  Well, that was fine with Eva. While she thought the superstition a bit absurd, it gave her a chance to see more of what she would be working with. She’d seen it the day before when she had walked around, innocently dropping seeds near the platform and around the house, but not since all the people had come. She hoped her seeds had been placed well, but it was too late to change anything either way.

  For once, the fields surrounding them were empty. The workers had all been invited to the ceremony. Tables covered in food, which the vast majority of the guests were eyeing even now, filled the yard just behind the mansion. The day was hot and sticky, and the hum of cicadas filled the air. For miles, she could see nothing but the rolling red hills and the neat lines of green crops that covered them. Only a single road led to and from the mansion, and Eva was rather sure all the guests were accounted for. She just hoped those present would listen after she was finish
ed. Who knew what the duke had told them?

  As she neared the platform, she came to the guests seated at the front of the semicircle in chairs that had been brought out from the mansion. These were the nobles and aristocracy, she guessed. Not only were they seated in real chairs in front of the commoners present, but their appearances, largely fine jewels, ridiculously decorated hats, and tailored suits, were vastly different from those sitting on the ground behind them. Many of them were thin, but few looked as gaunt as the others. Eva could only guess that the rich had their food brought in daily from other regions, just as their guests had mentioned the week before.

  A few of the faces were familiar. Eva recognized the moon-eyed woman, who was still staring at the duke as though she were the one getting married. Well, Eva thought, she could have him. Just not until after Eva was through teaching him a lesson.

  Only one face stood out to her as particularly unusual as she neared the front of the crowd. The man was not very young, but not old either. He had dancing blue eyes, and though he wore finer clothes than any of the others, his skin was weathered by the sun. A small smile played on his lips, as though he found the whole thing amusing.

  Could that be the king?

  She didn’t have time to dwell on her speculations, though, as she and the duke were fast approaching the officiant, despite her intentionally slow pace. A shiver ran down her back. She wasn’t really sure she could do this. But she had no choice.

  “Friends and guests,” the duke turned to address the crowd, “I am grateful for your presence today to bear witness to my wedding.”

  Eva almost smiled.

  “The order of events will be as follows,” he continued. “After my bride and I share vows, we will sup. Then while everyone eats, you will bear witness to another great marvel. For I have found a way to defeat this wretched famine.” He turned to Eva and took her hands in his clammy ones, giving her a smarmy smile. “And my bride holds the key.”

  The man Eva thought might be the king stopped smiling, and that’s when Eva remembered the king’s great dislike of anything magic. Well, if he hadn’t been completely sure of his stance before, he would be after this.

  “On that thought,” Eva said, shyly turning to face the crowd as well, “I have a surprise for you, husband-to-be.” She nearly choked on the words, but her act must have been at least half convincing, for after a moment of confusion, he broke into a radiant smile.

  Eva beckoned at several servants standing in the shadow of a pecan tree, and they responded by carefully carrying out one of her harps and her little stool. After setting them gently beside her on the stage, they bowed and backed away. Eva waved her thanks and sat down. Placing her hands above the strings, she looked at the duke with the most adoring gaze she could force, and smiled.

  “You’ve gifted me your songs and sonnets for weeks now in which you’ve poured out your heart. So I thought it was finally my turn to show you how I really feel.” She let her smile harden just a hair. “What you deserve.”

  Eva closed her eyes and began to play. The song began innocently enough. A little bubbling melody, much like water gurgling in a stream or sparrows playing in a puddle. She could hear the audience gasp and then clap, and she knew that the flowers around her must have begun growing. She snuck a glance at the duke. His smile was confused, but he didn’t seem suspicious. That meant it was time to turn the song.

  She closed her eyes again and imagined a snake weaving its way through the leaves to the stream. Danger wove its way into the song, little tendrils of minor notes slipping in here and there. And as the song moved more and more toward the danger and away from the sweet chirps of birds and the happy chitter of squirrels, her fingers flew more violently across the strings. Faster and harder she played.

  Someone cried out in the audience.

  “What’s happening?”

  “What is she doing?”

  “I thought magic was prohibited!”

  “Eva!” the duke cried. His face was no longer serene or even confused. Instead, he looked panicked and angry. “What are you doing?”

  Eva fixed him with a steady gaze as her fingers continued to play. “What I should have done long ago.” Into her music she poured every ounce of sorrow she knew. But not only the sorrow. No, she went beyond the guidelines that Mortimer had set. Now she added anger. Betrayal. The need for justice.

  Screams of terror erupted from all sides, but Eva continued to play.

  “Eva! Stop!” the duke shouted.

  Eva only played harder.

  “Stop, or I’ll kill Jack!”

  The power that had been building inside her with each note she played crescendoed into a cacophony of sound, power, and light. For one long moment, she was one with her music and its power. She let the music carry her to a place in her heart she’d never been before. It was a place of strength and ownership and confidence. For the first time in her life, Eva had nothing to hide. Everything she was and knew and believed and had practiced for was shooting through the air for the world to see.

  Then it was gone. No matter how hard she reached to find the magic, it was gone. She opened her eyes. People were either running down the road or hiding behind tables, chairs, or anything else that couldn’t grow. The yellow roses were the size of dinner plates with thorns as long as Eva’s forearms, and the little white flowers were as big as the roses had been to begin with. The grass was as tall as her knees. But most impressive, however, were the beanstalks.

  Everywhere she’d dropped a seed the day before now had a beanstalk that reached up to the clouds. As thick as the duke’s waist, they towered so high they blocked the sun from reaching much of the yard immediately surrounding the mansion. There were dozens spread out all over the place between the house, the pecan tree groves at the edge of the property, and the apple trees behind them. Still more were scattered randomly about the front and side yards.

  “What’s this about?” The man Eva had guessed to be the king shoved the men around him, presumably his guards, aside and strode forward. He stopped at the foot of the stage and looked back and forth between them. “Carlton, why is your bride terrorizing your guests with magic?” He furrowed his dark brows at Eva. “Which is illegal, if she wasn’t aware.”

  “I don’t know, sire.” The duke glowered at Eva.

  “Because,” the king continued, putting his hands behind his back, “as much as I should dislike arresting the bride, I will have to if I’m not provided an excellent explanation for all this.” He gestured at the chaos around them.

  Eva opened her mouth to plead her case, but then she stopped. She had hoped her plan would have somehow incapacitated the duke, though she really wasn’t sure why she’d thought it would. Now she could say nothing. The duke could still kill Jack, and nothing would have been accomplished.

  Some plan this had turned out to be.

  “I can explain, sire.”

  Eva whirled around with the others to find Jack standing at the edge of the yard, holding a piece of parchment.

  “Jack,” she shook her head, “whatever you’re doing, please go home. You’ll only make things worse.”

  But Jack started toward them anyway. “I do know that the duke forced you to sign this contract.” He held up the paper.

  “Jack, please!”

  “I also know,” he continued, “that he threatened you with deadly consequences should you disobey him.”

  Eva’s lungs squeezed as she tried to think of a way to stop him, if not for his own sake, then for the sake of the random stranger the contract had threatened as well.

  “Jack, you need to stop!” Her voice was nearly hysterical.

  “What in the blazes is this about?” The king turned to Jack. “Let me see that.”

  Jack handed the contract to the king, and Eva felt her heart shatter.

  “Where did you get that?” the duke sputtered. “How?”

  “Magic gives, but it also takes.” Jack stared hard at the duke while the king read t
he contract. Finally, the king looked up, eyes blazing.

  “Well, you’ve done a lot of rotten things in your life, cousin, but this is by far the worst.” He flicked the paper. “Forced matrimony? Magic?” His eyes narrowed at the duke. “You’re behind this famine as well, aren’t you?” He turned to Eva. “My dear, is all of this true?”

  Eva nodded as tears streamed down her face.

  The king’s face softened as he looked back and forth between Eva and Jack. “And this young man is—”

  “Yes,” Eva sobbed. She wrung her hands as she looked at Jack. He had struck her as handsome the first time they’d met, but now he was so much more. When she looked at him, she didn’t see a square jaw and a fine straight nose. She saw empathy and kindness, a love for children, and strong hands to catch her and lift her back up whenever she might fall. In his slate-gray eyes, she saw a rock-solid determination to protect and keep. She saw a chest to cry into and a neck to snuggle against when the world was cold. A man she would be happy to spend forever with.

  How had he found out today, of all days? Now, she had only until midnight. And then he would be gone as well.

  “Arrest the duke,” the king said. As his guards moved to obey, he grimaced at Carlton. “I have an idea that we’ll be spending much time together, cousin, as long as it takes before you decide it behooves you to tell me what you were planning.” He glanced at Eva again. “And why ever did you decide to kidnap her?” Then his voice hardened. “And how do we stop her poor fellow from dying? Really, Carlton, you were always odd, but this is just unthinkable!”

  “I would have died,” Jack spoke up, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips, “if my name was Jack.”

  19

  This Is Your Choice

  “What?” Everyone, including the duke, stared.

  “My father’s name,” Jack spoke, his eyes never leaving Eva’s, “was Jack. And as I grew older, I looked more and more like him, so everyone began calling me by his name, particularly my mother whenever she was angry with me. But my real name,” his eyes began to twinkle, “is Phillip.”