Aurelie: A Faerie Tale

by Heather Tomlinson

  "Jocondagne's at war with Skoe, did you know?" she continues. "We had hopes for a treaty, but there was a terrible fire in Dorisen, and they blamed us, and we had to leave in a hurry. Come spring, Father expects they'll attack in force."

  As if human politics mattered to me. "What of Master Garin?"

  Color returns in ugly blotches to her face. She twists her gloves in her lap. "His family lost their fortune, but he was fine otherwise. Last I saw him."

  "And Netta?" If I didn't know better, I'd think those dark eyes accused me. Age has only enhanced Aurelie's unique intensity. I smile again to put her at ease.

  "Netta's in Cantrez, at her uncle's farm."

  "That's a pity," I say, and mean it. Disappointment burns like a gargouille's breath. No Netta? She and I had always teamed against Aurelie and Garin, Hardly a fair matchup, though the other two did their valiant best to keep up with us.

  I strive for detachment. A drac is complete unto himself, viewing human company as a pastime like any other, to be enjoyed when the

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  opportunity permits. Not needed for happiness, but certainly very pleasant. "You must come to a revel some night soon, my dear."

  "A revel? I thought your father didn't allow--"

  "My father no longer governs my actions. No other Fae would presume to dictate to a full-grown drac." Except, perhaps, for a gar-gouille, but the issue is moot.

  "Oh, Laic." Aurelie reaches out to touch my arm as if she requires proof from more than one sense that I do, in fact, exist. "I'm the Heir. I can't leave Lumielle."

  Rarely do her kind visit our world. Perhaps she does not understand the honor implicit in the invitation. Magnanimous as always, I give her the benefit of the doubt. "No one will notice if you're absent for a few hours," I assure her. "I'll fetch you from your chamber, all perfectly discreet."

  "Urn." Her confusion makes her look ten years old. A charming age for mortals.

  Horse hooves and carriage wheels crunch on gravel as the vehicle glides to a stop. Briefly, I regret the coachman's skill. Flying off the bench to land in the woman's lap would be humorous, though hardly polite. Particularly when renewing her acquaintance after a span of years. "Look for me."

  The door handle rattles. Aurelie puts her hand on the latch. I wink at her, and fade from mortal view. The princess can see me, but as far as the driver knows, she's the only one stepping onto the palace drive and breathing deeply of the crisp, cold air.

  Delight fills me, undiluted, as I make plans to entertain my former playfellow. Together again, after all this time. Oh, this will be fun.

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  Chapter 12 Aurelie

  Loic. In Lumielle. She didn't trust his world-weary air. Had he followed her, intent on mischief? After checking the bedclothes for frogs and spiders, Aurelie had slept uneasily, half expecting him to pop out of her wardrobe or slide under the door in a puff of smoke. No drac at breakfast, pulling faces behind her father's back. No Fae waiting in the carriage to ride out to the festival grounds, his unearthly beauty tying her tongue into knots. He hadn't listened about Garin; she couldn't tell him about Netta. And she couldn't worry about the three of them now. Aurelie pursed her lips.

  Two-whee. Two-whee. She whistled the two descending notes and saw the huge sea eagle flying straight at her head. She braced her feet against the reviewing stand. Despite her intentions, at the last minute she flinched and crooked her arm over her hair.

  "Elbow straight out, Princess," Master Austringer growled. "Paumera's

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  an old war bird; got to give her a perch, not a target." The lanky, gray-haired man held Aurelie's right arm to the side, thick leather gauntlet uppermost. "Make a fist," the falconer instructed. "Here she comes."

  The bird landed solidly on Aurelie's glove and clapped its wings to its sides. Aurelie staggered back into her instructor's arms. Though stringy, the king's falconer was stronger than he appeared. The old man supported Aurelie's elbows to keep her from falling off the reviewing stand and into the dried leaves that littered the festival grounds.

  Eye to eye with the big raptor, Aurelie held her breath. She was awed by the intelligence in Paumera's golden gaze, the perfection of the bird's creamy feathers. Neck plumage ruffled as the bird shifted on the leather glove, then opened and closed a sharp-edged beak.

  "Reward!" Master Austringer said. "Take the fish."

  Aurelie's right arm dipped as she reached her left for the bucket. The falconer tucked a raw fish into her glove and Aurelie held it out for the white eagle.

  Snap! Paumera lunged for the fish, snatching it from Aurelie's hand and downing it in one bite. Aurelie staggered, knocking her head against the falconer's chin. "Your pardon."

  "Never mind that. Send her up again," Master Austringer said. "Quickly!"

  Aurelie pursed her lips and whistled three ascending notes. The eagle's muscles bunched; her wings spread wide. Aurelie needed both hands to lift the bird high as Paumera launched herself into the air and flew north and west toward Lumielle's Tower Bridge, where the assistant falconer waited with more buckets offish.

  "Not bad." Master Austringer rubbed his hands together. In

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  approval or against the afternoon's cold, Aurelie couldn't tell. "See if she'll circle for you. Remember the au tour?"

  "Yes." At her request, the falconer had been teaching her the commands for "up," "down," and "circle," in preparation for the Longest Night ceremony. The exercise gave Aurelie a reason to leave the palace every afternoon and escape from Elise's fussing over her clothes, the discussions of siege fortifications and tactics, the sober-faced advisers and men in uniform, each one a silent reminder of her failure.

  Nobody accused her out loud of restarting the war. King Rairnond had agreed, when she recounted the events in Dorisen, that Aurelie's party had likely been safest on a Jocondagnan vessel. I Infortunately, the princess's defection had infuriated Captain Inglis. Claiming an insult to Skoe's honor, she had persuaded the governing council against continuing the peace talks, and the Alsinhalese and Jocondagnan delegations had been shipped home like shabby secondhand goods. Which was all Lumielle had for sale these days without Skoeran ships to supply her merchants.

  This winter, as the specter of war stalked the capital, Aurelie thought people needed to see the royal white eagles spreading protective wings over the city. It had been years since King Raimond had hunted with them, but the falconer thought some of the long-lived war birds might remember their training and respond. In a few weeks, they'd find out for certain.

  Meanwhile, Aurelie and Master Austringer rode out of Lumielle every afternoon. They wove between the military supply wagons and crossed the River Sicaun to the parklike island to practice drills of their own. The command calls were only a few notes long, far less

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  complex than those used to summon individual birds. Like its name, the au tour swung in a circle, from high to low and back up to the starting note. Aurelie whistled it as clearly as she could. To her enduring amazement, the bird tipped one wing and returned to soar in lazy arcs above the reviewing stand.

  Master Austringer grunted. "Try the plonger command again."

  "Two-whee! Two-whee!" Aurelie whistled. Talons extended, Pau-mera dropped.

  A few curious folk had rowed over to find out what was happening at the festival grounds. Some cried out; others ducked under the reviewing stand's bare platform. Aurelie had trouble watching the bird dive at her. She slitted her eyes and hunched her shoulders. When the bird hit her glove, Aurelie's eyes popped open. She reached back for the reward. This time, she managed to hold still as the razor-sharp beak nipped the fish from her glove. "You beauty," Aurelie breathed. The eagle preened her breast feathers and gazed alertly at Aurelie.

  "Now the monter," Master Austringer said.

  With some reluctance, Aurelie whistled Paumera up and watched her fly away. The eagle's graceful flight and fearless eyes brought her thoughts back to Loic. No doubt the Fae lurked s
omewhere nearby, hoping to startle her as he had in the carriage. He could be watching this moment, as a man, beast, or bird. She didn't want to gratify his vanity by looking, so she concentrated on the sea eagle. One problem at a time.

  "Try Montbrai, Paumera's mate," the falconer advised. "Those two were ever the best-trained. They haven't forgotten a trick."

  "I thought the war birds had gone wild," a young woman said. "How do you get them to answer the whistles?"

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  Master Austringer grunted. "Been down here every day for weeks, reminding them what men are good for. Especially when the river freezes, the birds won't mind performing for their supper. Soon, this year. Cold's on the way--can't you smell it?" The falconer hummed a few notes. "That's Montbrai's call."

  Aurelie whistled the phrase and laughed in delight to see another white shape lift from a treetop and fly toward her. "Look, he's coming!"

  "Note-perfect," the falconer approved. The bird thumped onto Aurelie's gauntlet. With a twist of his powerful neck, he accepted a fish. Smaller than the female, this eagle's tail was barred with dark lines.

  "Monter" Aurelie said, and whistled the notes. She lifted her arms, but the bird refused to let go of the gauntlet. He clicked his beak, shifted his weight, and craned around Aurelie's shoulder to peer suggestively at the fish bucket.

  Master Austringer barked a laugh. "He'll get another fish when he earns it. Try again, Princess Aurelie. Lower your arms after you've given him the signal. Montbrai's too haughty to let himself be dropped in the dirt."

  Aurelie nodded. "Monter," she said. As she whistled the command, she pushed the bird into the air. Her arms fell back toward the reviewing stand, and the eagle's wings unfurled. With an irritated squawk, Montbrai flew. Aurelie whistled the au tour. More swiftly than Paumera had, Montbrai sketched a cursory circle, then swooped to land on Aurelie's glove and claim his reward.

  "Here's your fish, greedy guts," she said. The fish disappeared

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  into the bird's beak. Aurelie had just time to whistle the monter again before the bird lifted from her fist and sped toward the bridge tower and the chance at more fish. "They're so different!" she said.

  The falconer's weathered face creased in a smile. "Aye, Princess Aurelie. Must say, they've taken a rare liking to you," he pronounced, "House Pygargue knows its own. Their kind has protected yours for hundreds of years. It's how the ceremony started."

  Aurelie stared out at the eagles. More birds had risen from the treetops along the river. They soared above the festival grounds, seemingly awaiting a turn to perform. "House knows House," she repeated softly. Her thoughts flew past the eagles to the river's mouth and over to the sea beyond. Who was watching over Garin's house? Could they tell her what had happened to him?

  "If you wanted to bring them back to the castle mews after Longest Night, I think a few pairs would come," the falconer said. "Pau-mera and Montbrai, at least. Maybe more."

  Aurelie shook her head. "If we have to, we'll put them in leashes and hoods. But until the festival, they may as well fly free."

  "As you wish." Master Austringer tucked his hands under his armpits. "We've plenty of whitefish and more birds to remind of their place in the ritual, Highness. Call Orbec next; she sulks when she thinks she's been slighted."

  At last, a task she could complete. For the moment, it was enough. Aurelie put thoughts of the war and Garin and violet-eyed Loic out of her head. She turned her face to the sky and whistled.

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  Chapter 13 Netta

  A snowflake melted on my cheek. More delicate than rain, this first snow of the year, like the brush of an eyelash, a butterfly kiss.

  Blindness had made me a connoisseur of weather. Soon the deep cold would close its fist around Cantrez, but so far the snow only tickled. I hugged my shawl to my shoulders and tipped my face to the sky, turning until I faced the wind head-on. A north wind, gusting. I fancied that before reaching me, it had passed through Dorisen and tugged Garin's hair on his way to the harbor, swept over the palace roof in Lumielle, and whipped the last leaves from the trees in the festival grounds where Aurelie trained with the sea eagles.

  Mother had read me the princess's letters, expressing her disappointment at the failed peace mission, praising the falconer and the birds. The last letter, quite short, bothered me, mostly for what it didn't say. I was blind, not stupid. Or at least wiser than I'd been two

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  years ago. Though I could no longer see, I listened. People's voices, I had learned, were less guarded than their faces. "What is she hiding?" I whispered.

  The wind spoke to me, soft as a sigh. Faaaaaaaae.

  My toes went cold in my boots. Two years, and not a word from Loic. My uncle's farm wasn't so far from the river. I admit to a secret wish, in those first dark days, that my friend might undo his father's curse. Never strong, that hope had faded. Perhaps I'd been mistaken, fancying that Loic and I shared a special bond. He might not care for me as I did him, but if he was in trouble, I needed to know. Was Aurelie trying to shield me from pain? Had something happened to Loic? As answers went, that would be dreadful, but it made my duty clear. Oh, let me be honest. More than duty, my desire. I wanted out. Out of Cantrez and out of my life as the seamstress's poor cursed child.

  For two years, I'd kept to familiar places: my uncle's farm, the orchard, the market, the flower seller's home. Rosine and I had become close after it happened. Her son called me Auntie and climbed over my lap as if I were his own personal mountain.

  I knew every voice in Cantrez: who loved me, who pitied me, who simply feared me, as if my unexplained affliction might spread, like the plague. No one but Aurelie and Garin knew that the river drac had taken my sight. I owed my friends the warning, but I had asked them not to relay the news to Loic. It wasn't the Fae's fault that I'd been careless with our secret. I couldn't bear to spread disaster to his family too, like a child who wipes her muddy hands on her playmates' clothes, so everyone goes home dirty. Then he disappeared and left me only memories.

  After two years in this refuge, the thought of ret urning to Lumielle

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  and Aurelie made happiness bubble through me. New tastes, new smells, new sounds, new voices. I wished I could fly and be there already.

  "Netta!" My mother's voice, anxious. The door slammed. Her footsteps echoed on the front porch; the third plank creaked. "There you are dreaming again, and night coming on."

  "You know darkness doesn't matter to me, Mother. Uncle wants his tea, you mean, and Orianne's buried herself in a book and won't answer."

  "Your cousin tries."

  "It's all right." Five steps, and I'd reached the railing. Beeswax and rose soap, my mother's scent, as recognizable as her face. I took her hand and let her guide us into the warm kitchen. "I'll make tea tonight, but Orianne's on notice. She'll have to do it or persuade Uncle to make it himself when we're in Lumielle."

  "Lumielle?" A long, slow breath. "Travel will be difficult at this season."

  "Aurelie needs me, I think." I squeezed my mother's arm. "And you, too. Especially since she lost Queen Basia. Madame Pevrel's an excellent housekeeper, but her fashion sense? As well ask Uncle to supervise the princess's wardrobe."

  "If you're sure, Netta?" Mother asked the question for form's sake; I could already hear her planning what to pack, deciding whose horses would be best to carry us down the mountain.

  "Yes." I wouldn't inflict my crow's voice on my patient family, but I hummed under my breath as I brewed a pot for Uncle. Bark tea, since Skoeran ships hadn't brought us true leaves in ages. Sweetened, it didn't taste too much like dirt.

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  "You're Mademoiselle Netta? The princess will be so pleased you've come." A small, callused hand took mine, helping me out of the hired carriage and across the drive. Loose gravel rolled under our boots. "I'm Elise, her maid."

  "Pleased to meet you, Elise." Mother had stopped to talk with Madame Pevrel, but the strange girl had me securely in
tow. I'd greet the housekeeper later.

  After the fusty air inside the carriage, the cold breeze slapped my cheeks and pinched my nose, mischievous as a lutin. No snow here; the air wasn't soft enough. I kept wanting to put my hand up to shield my face from the stares I could feel, but perhaps I was imagining the servants' interest. Those who recognized me would make themselves known. I had no enemies here.

  "Steps," the maid said. Thoughtful, but not pushy. I liked her already. "Last one."

  Double doors opened. The left-side hinges needed oil, I noticed, and then the mingled smells of lemon oil and wood smoke told me I was in the palace's entry hall.

  "Welcome back to Lumielle, mademoiselle."

  "Thank you..." I searched my memory. The friendly voice belonged to a footman, nose like a turnip. "...Barret," I finished, so triumphantly that we both laughed.

  "That's right," Barret said. "You need anything, Elise knows where to find me."

  "You're very kind."

  The maid escorted me down a long hall. "Princess Aurelie's with

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  the falconer this afternoon. Madame Pevrel said to put you in the chamber next to the Heir's Suite, but I can clear out of the little closet off her sitting room if you'd rather be close to the princess."

  "Please, don't move on my account." It brought me up short, though. My status might have changed. Was I a companion or an employee? As a child, I'd slept in my mother's room, in the wing with the upper ranks of servants and artisans. She'd go back there, snug with her cronies, but I hadn't thought further than managing the journey and helping Aurelie when I arrived.