by Anita Valle
Perfect.
Coralina took two steps forward. “Can you see me now?” She kept her voice soft as petals.
Gord shook his head. “Don’t be concerned, my lady. You can speak your business without my seeing you.”
Coralina took another two steps. She was now an arm’s length from Gord. “You shouldn’t have to speak to a smudge. What about now?”
“Better,” said Gord, a ripple of doubt in his voice. “I see where your face is.”
Coralina moved closer until barely an inch of space snuck between them. “Now?” she whispered, her nose nearly touching his chin.
She knew he could see her. His brown eyes fastened on hers, though they fidgeted, and he seemed to struggle for words. He might’ve stepped back if a pile of logs wasn’t right behind him.
“What do you want, my lady?” he asked stiffly.
She heard the back door of the cottage crash open. “Coco! Darling, what are you doing here?” someone cried. Before she could fully turn around, Coralina was engulfed by a man’s arms and her face deluged with joyous kisses.
She squirmed free to look at the man.
“Kerrick!”
Chapter 7
Kerrick laughed and kissed her forehead. “Why are you here? I didn’t believe it when Grenna told me!”
Coralina pushed away from him. “How dare you!” she shouted. “Keep your distance, you rascal-”
“No need for that!” Kerrick grinned. “Gord knows. We don’t have to be strangers.”
“Oh.” Coralina stared at Kerrick, her features hardening. “You… told him.”
“Just him, no one else!” Kerrick said quickly. “He’s my cousin.”
Cousins? Slim, agile Kerrick looked nothing like dark, mountainous Gord. Though there was something similar in the way they moved their eyebrows….
Gord had resumed his seat on the log beside Pipsy. At close range, Coralina could see he held a small piece of wood, whittling with a short knife. Pipsy alternated between watching him work and bouncing the golden doll on her knees.
“Kerrick and I are good friends,” she said smoothly. “We grew up together at the castle.”
Gord merely looked at her and Coralina felt her bones shudder. He wore the same expression that had crippled her last night. It was like having the air snatched out of her lungs, leaving her cold and gasping. She sought to name the expression but couldn’t find the word.
“Is Gord making furniture for you?” Kerrick slid his arm around her waist. “That was your cabinet I saw inside, wasn’t it? Can’t say I’m surprised – all those pretty gowns!” He tugged playfully at Coralina’s sleeve.
Coralina tried to stitch her shredded thoughts back together. Muckwit Kerrick! Nothing could be done while he bobbed over her like a moth beyond reach of swatting. “I am giving a play at the castle, two weeks from tomorrow,” she said to Gord. “I need you to construct a prop for me - a tower. Fifteen feet tall, with a staircase that winds around the outer walls. You’ll be well paid, of course.”
Gord nodded without looking up from his carving.
“Is it a bear?” Pipsy asked.
Gord smiled. “No. Keep trying.”
Coralina felt a prickle of curiosity. “May I see?” She held out her hand.
Gord passed her the carving which fit snugly in her palm. It was roughly egg-shaped, with two points on top and what looked like the beginnings of a nose… or beak.
“An owl?” Coralina guessed.
Gord grinned. “Yes! Well done.”
“I knew it was an owl!” said Pipsy. Gord laughed and Coralina was surprised at how the sound pleased her. A strong laugh, richly textured, yet somehow full of tenderness.
She handed the owl back to Gord. “May I buy this from you when it’s finished?” She wasn’t trying to flatter him. She liked owls. Beautiful, bold, and deadly.
Gord gave a polite smile. “It’s for Pipsy.”
“Oh. Naturally.” Coralina hid her annoyance. “I’ll go, then.” She turned to leave but Kerrick caught her arm. “Not yet, Coco! Walk in the forest with me.”
Coralina wrenched out of his grasp and stalked back into the house.
Chapter 8
When Coralina reached The Old Ogre Inn, she found Jaedis there already, but not Heidel.
Only two or three tables held guests taking supper. Behind the long counter that spanned the room, Roke the Innkeeper quietly counted his coins. Each table offered a stubby candle, but most light came from the cavernous fireplace that arched across one wall.
“I ordered our food!” Jaedis waved a hand at three small pies on the rickety table. Coralina flopped into a chair and cast a doubtful eye on the unsavory pastry before her. “What is this?”
“Nut Muddle Pie,” Jaedis said cheerfully.
Coralina looked horrified “What’s the ‘muddle’?”
“Hmm. I think it’s basically a nut pie with other… uncertain ingredients.”
“And you’re eating it?” Coralina cried. Jaedis was halfway through, spooning the lumpy brownish glop into her mouth as if it were plum pudding.
“It’s – well, it’s not terrible,” said Jaedis. “I don’t want to offend the innkeeper.”
Coralina, who had no such scruples, pushed her pie to the middle of the table. She dug through her satchel and withdrew a rolled bundle of papers. After shuffling through them, she hung over one page, reading under her breath.
“The play?” Jaedis asked through a mouthful of muddle.
Coralina nodded. “I’m struggling with the final scene. I rewrote it yesterday but whenever I read it, I’m not satisfied.”
“What’s the title?” Jaedis asked.
Before she could answer, Heidel rushed through the doorway in a flutter of excitement. “Look! Look what I bought!” She slid into her chair and set a small, velvet bag on the table. She pushed down the wrappings to expose a single piece of fruit, larger than a peach, but smooth and crimson, like a cherry.
Jaedis dropped her spoon. “Is that Lumen fruit?”
“Large, ripe, flawless,” said Heidel. “I couldn’t believe it.” She gazed at the fruit as though she had dug up a chest full of diamonds.
“How much?” Jaedis asked in a reverent whisper. Heidel blew the air out of her cheeks. “Thirty silvers. Which I haggled down from forty-five.”
A new ball gown cost thirty silvers. All for one piece of fruit. Though Coralina wasn’t scandalized. Lumen fruit came from massive trees that grew only in Runa, most of them spread across the hill below the castle. Their colossal trunks, hard as marble, smooth as ice, could not be climbed or chopped, and so the succulent fruit that grew in their canopies could not be harvested. Either animals ravaged the crop each year, or it dropped hundreds of feet and burst into mush.
“Did you ask the seller how he got it?” said Coralina.
“Oh, he won’t tell.” Jaedis intercepted the reply. “Occasionally I hear rumors that someone – or perhaps a few someones – found a way to gather the fruit. But if it’s true, they’ll guard their secret. Wouldn’t you? For thirty silvers apiece?”
“What will you do with it?” Coralina asked. Heidel grinned and shook her head. “Not sure yet. Something special.” She slipped the fruit in the velvet bag and tightened the drawstring. Then she noticed her Nut Muddle Pie. After blinking with restrained revulsion, she pushed it to the table’s center to keep company with Coralina’s.
“Oh!” Jaedis fretted. “Roke’ll be hurt. I can’t eat them all myself!”
“Good,” said Heidel. “You don’t deserve a death that cruel.”
Coralina returned to her papers. “The Terrible Tower.”
“What?” said Heidel.
“Jaedis asked for the title of my next play. The Terrible Tower.”
“Ooh! What’s it about?” Jaedis asked.
Coralina smiled, pleased with her interest. “It's about a maiden, very poor but very beautiful, and three men in the kingdom are in love with her.”
“
Three?” Heidel glared. “Coco, why is one man never enough?”
Coralina waved a hand to shush her. "A gypsy tells the maiden that while all three men appear to love her, only one is true of heart.”
Heidel rested her head on one hand and pretended to snore.
“No, stop!” Jaedis flapped her hands. “I want to hear what happens!”
Coralina laughed. “So. The maiden pretends to be trapped at the top of an enchanted tower. A staircase winds around the outer wall, leading past several windows. Hanging out of each window is a terrible monster. To prove their love, the men will have to climb the staircase and battle the monsters to reach the maiden at the top. Only one, of course, will succeed.”
“What happens to the other men?” Heidel asked.
“Oh, they get eaten by the monsters.”
Heidel snorted. “Heartless little wench, isn't she?”
Jaedis’ pearly skin faded a shade whiter. “Coco,” she asked weakly. “Who do you intend to play the monsters?”
Coralina winked and Jaedis showed a rare fit of temper. “No! I can’t do it!” She thumped her fists on the table. “Why must I always smother inside a costume? Last time it was the two-headed dragon; me in one neck, Shulay in the other. No air. Before that I was inside the back end of a unicorn. No air. I’m sorry, Coco, but I’m rather fond of breathing!”
“Holy Shoulders, you won’t die!” Coralina laughed. “I’ll try to give you a more… breathable costume this time. All right?”
Jaedis sighed mistrustfully and scraped the last few globs out of her pie. “What happens at the end?”
Coralina scowled. “That's what I'm struggling with. Two of the men die from the monsters. The third defeats them, rescues the maiden, and declares his everlasting love for her. Which is lovely, but somehow it all seems....”
“Predictable,” said Heidel. Coralina glared. “Well, the audience will like it.”
Heidel picked up a spoon and poked at her pie, as though it were some kind of dead animal she was testing for signs of life. “Who will play the men?”
“Kerrick will be one,” said Coralina. “And I’m going to ask Willow the messenger.” She shook her head. “And Luxley might have joined us if he hadn’t been clobbered. I tried to speak with him before he left, but he snubbed me.”
Heidel flicked away her spoon. “And I suppose Kerrick will play the gallant hero who wins your heart in the end? He usually does.”
Coralina folded her arms on the table. “Oh no, no, no.” She grinned. “Shall I tell you who will be my hero this time? And declare his everlasting love for me?”
Her sisters waited quietly, though only Jaedis looked interested.
“Gord,” said Coralina. “But he doesn’t know that.”
Chapter 9
Daylight was quietly sliding into dusk when they emerged from the inn. Shulay stood in the carriage yard, feeding handfuls of oats to the horses and rubbing their noses. The team had dappled gray hides and milky manes, impeccably matched to the silver-and-white carriage they pulled.
Heidel tugged open the carriage door. But as she lifted her foot to step inside, sounds of shrieking turned her around.
A young woman tore into the street, coming out from an alley past The Old Ogre Inn. She ran hunched over, her sobs coming in squeaky gasps, and clutched both sides of her head. Just before she was swarmed by villagers, Coralina saw the reason for her screaming. All of the girl’s dark hair had been cut, leaving nothing but rough, choppy locks around her head, shorter even than a boy would wear.
“It’s Aisley!” Jaedis dashed into the crowd, pushing her way to the center. In the rift she created, Coralina saw the girl again, collapsed on her knees, still clasping her shorn head. Jaedis dropped down beside her and wrapped the girl in her arms.
The crowd thickened as more villagers poured into the street. Most were struggling for a glimpse of the girl or shouting questions. Who did this? Where was she attacked? Which way did the bandits go? But from what Coralina could hear, the girl was sobbing too hard to give shape to her words.
Heidel and Shulay had dissolved into the crowd, but Coralina slipped back to the carriage. She climbed inside and shut the door, pulling the curtains across the windows. On the white velvet seat she huddled, knees drawn up to her chest. Her black curls hung over her shoulders and she clutched them with trembling hands. Though she’d seen the girl for but a few seconds, the small waves suggested her hair had been curly. And probably very long.
Chapter 10
Once inside the castle again, Coralina sought her eldest sister, Maelyn. She wasn’t in the library, her usual sanctum. She wasn’t lingering over supper in the dining hall. She wasn’t in her chamber, bedding down for the night. Growling with frustration, Coralina decided to check the throne room. Though she knew Maelyn never received visitors after dark.
And there she found her, sitting on the throne and speaking with Willow the messenger. He must have arrived only moments before. Maelyn was still fastening the ivory cloak around her shoulders, the one their mother had always worn. Willow stood below on the marble floor, a tall, fair man with thoughtful blue eyes. Coralina had always found him pleasing to look at.
“We know why the bandits are stealing hair,” said Willow.
Coralina had taken an unlit side corridor in her search for Maelyn, peaking into the throne room from an archway on the right. Neither Maelyn nor Willow noticed her in the hall, but that didn’t matter. She’d come to ask that very question.
“Have they been caught?” Maelyn asked.
Willow shook his head. “A young woman in Creaklee was their victim tonight. A girl called Aisley, daughter of a weaver. She was hysterical, poor thing, but eventually she spoke about the bandits. She said a handsome man, dressed as a noble, had been visiting her father’s shop, supposedly to buy cloth. But he came so frequently, Aisley began to think he had feelings for her, and that she had a chance of catching a wealthy husband. Tonight he asked her to walk with him in the forest, saying he had something ‘very special’ to ask of her.” Willow’s words tightened with anger. “Once they were out of sight, the man forced her to the ground. And then a second man appeared and cut off her hair.”
Maelyn covered her mouth with both hands, as did Coralina.
“Aisley had brown hair, very long and wavy,” said Willow. “She heard the men speak of the ‘fine price’ it would fetch for them in Kurzha.”
“Kurzha?” Maelyn’s mouth fell open. “Holy Elbows - the Twin Queens!”
“You think they’re behind this?” Willow asked. Maelyn shook her head. “Not behind it. But the cause of it. I had a visit from the queens last month. They both wore elaborate braids, nearly reaching their ankles. They boasted of the frenzy it created it their kingdom, how the noblewomen are desperate for false hair to lengthen their own. Many peasant girls are selling the hair off their heads because of the enormous price the noblewomen will pay for it.”
“That’s horrible,” said Willow, and Coralina agreed. No prize beneath the heavens could ever persuade her to sell her beautiful hair.
“So the bandits are stealing hair and then selling it in Kurzha,” said Maelyn. “We’re probably not the only kingdom that’s been attacked.”
“The Twin Queens should be told,” said Willow. Maelyn made a disgusted sound. “They won’t care. ‘My, my, Maelyn’ they’ll say. ‘Your little kingdom has so many problems!’ It will all be my fault, they’re too stubborn and arrogant to blame themselves. It’s like a kingdom run by two Coralinas!”
Willow laughed and Coralina smoldered in the corridor. Wait until her next play. She’d put Maelyn inside the most airless costume she had.
Maelyn shook her head. “Any other messages?” she asked, somewhat absently.
Willow smiled. “Oh, I might have another. But you’ll have to come down here for it.”
Maelyn grinned ear to ear. She flung off her ivory cloak and hurried down the four steps from her throne. Willow stepped forward and caught he
r in his arms, kissing her forehead, her nose, and then settling onto her lips.
Coralina nearly fell over. She backed against the far wall of the corridor, though there was little danger of being seen. Forcibly, she swallowed the urge to laugh out loud.
Maelyn had a lover. Maelyn had a lover! The uppity princess, who warned her younger sisters never to be “entangled” by men of lower caste. Who lectured them on the importance of marrying princes and nobles, as their mother had wished. Yet there she was, kissing the messenger without the slightest show of reluctance.
Coralina slipped off her shoes, dangled them from her fingers, and ran up the corridor on tiptoes. She scurried up three flights of stairs, arriving breathless at Jaedis’ chamber door. Jaedis answered the frantic thumping, looking puzzled and sleepy.
Coralina laughed through heavy panting. “You will not – believe – what I just saw!”
Chapter 11
She woke suddenly, snapped out of a dream. Heavy night still soaked through her chamber. A sound had woken her – or was that part of the dream? Coralina squirmed, groping for the slippery thoughts before they melted away.
It had centered around Joc, their former cook. He was in the kitchen, preparing supper at his worktable as he had every night in Coralina’s memory. She sat on a stool watching him, and oddly, her feet dangled above the floor. She had been much younger in the dream.
Coralina rolled to her side, twisting the blankets around her. Though it hadn’t been unpleasant, the dream distressed her. She missed Joc. Possibly more than she missed her father. The king’s attention had always been divided by his kingdom, his queen, and his eight other daughters. But Joc always had time for her. And usually a candy bird.
Nine months now since the servants had abandoned them. They fled just after the king’s death and Joc had gone with them. No one in Runa had seen them since. Even Kerrick, Joc’s only son, did not know what became of his father. And Maelyn, too wounded to hire new servants, had worked out a system in which the princesses cared for themselves. Coralina became the Festivity Princess, responsible for banquets, balls, and theater.