He set off up the road, a new spring in his step for the first time. For deep in his heart, Vasco felt the stirrings of hope.
Eight
Bianca settled into a new routine quickly. She woke with the dawn, while her sisters slept on until well past noon. After breaking her fast, she rode or walked to Kun's cottage. On her return, she would walk beside the lake. Some days it was mirror calm, reflecting the sky and birds above as though there were a second world below, if she but had the courage to pierce the surface. On other days, the beach vanished beneath an onslaught of waves blown up by the slightest breeze, and the lake licked at the very foundations of the Summer Palace.
She grew more skilled at making things invisible. She'd managed to vanish most things in Kun's cottage, before making them visible again. Today, Kun had insisted she bespell the cottage roof. Except she was not to make it vanish entirely – oh, no. Kun asked her to vanish patches of it so that there appeared to be holes in the roof, yet anyone looking through those holes would see nothing of what went on within her house.
The strange twist on her invisibility spell had made Bianca work harder at her magic than ever before. She'd felt worn out by the time she'd accomplished it, only to find Kun demanding proof that the spell had worked. That meant climbing on the cottage roof and peering in.
Bianca had protested at first – after all, princesses did not climb on roofs. Her mother would be horrified at the very thought – but Kun was adamant that one of them must, and the old woman was hardly spry enough to make the climb.
Bianca managed to hoist herself onto the water butt and scramble onto the roof without too much trouble, but climbing down had been her undoing. She'd hit the lid of the water butt on the way down wrong so that it tilted, and instead of landing firmly on it with both feet, she'd slid into the cold water. The butt was easily as deep as she was tall – Bianca might have drowned had Kun not witnessed her fall. As it was, the woman had reached in, seized her collar and dragged the spluttering princess to the surface where she could breathe again.
While Bianca's clothes dried in the sun, she sat in her shift before the fire with a scalding cup of tea in her hands to ward off the chill from her immersion. Kun didn't ask her to perform any more magic, so Bianca decided it was her turn to do the asking today.
"What is this mystery in the palace everyone keeps talking about?" Bianca said, blowing on her tea to cool it.
"Do you mean the shoes?" Kun asked as she poured herself some tea.
The shoes were no mystery, Bianca was sure of it. The other girls piled them up to keep adventurers out of their sleeping chamber, for she'd counted at least half a dozen different men who'd come and gone. They shared the princesses' table and slept on a pallet outside their door for three nights, before they disappeared, never to return.
More than once, Bianca had wondered whether the men were some sort of illusion she'd conjured to keep her hopes alive of finding a husband and a way out of exile, but she knew the men were real. The first adventurer, who'd dropped his sword beneath the table on her first night in the Summer Palace, had neglected to retrieve it. Bianca had found the sword, scabbard and belt several days after his departure, half-hidden under the bench where he'd sat. She'd carried it all to her bedchamber and concealed the items under her bed. The sharp steel was real enough, so the sword's bearer must have been real, too. As were all the adventurers who claimed to be able to solve the mystery. A mystery so mysterious even Bianca didn't know what it was.
"I don't know. The mystery that draws men to the palace like flies to honey," Bianca said finally. "I know men are fools when faced with a beautiful woman – we learned that with our first breath in my father's harem – but they seem taken…nay, obsessed with the notion that they can solve some mystery and claim one of us as a wife. It's not just them, either. The servants say the same. Whoever solves the mystery will become master of the Summer Palace and marry one of us. If I have to make myself invisible to avoid it, I swear his bride will not be me."
She meant it, too, Bianca realised. She would not trade her freedom in exile for marriage to some lusty brute she barely knew.
"The choice may not be up to you," Kun chided. "If the king offers a man a princess for a bride, he might also offer the man his choice of his daughters."
Bianca shuddered. To be given away as a prize, instead of a marriage alliance…as though she were a possession instead of a person…it chilled her. Her father was many things, both bad and good, but he was fiercely protective of his family. "What would make my father offer his own flesh and blood as a prize to any man?"
Kun grinned gummily. "Have you noticed anything unusual about the shoes?"
"They are worn out," Bianca replied. "My sisters pile up their worn-out dancing shoes on the threshold to our sleeping chamber, to trip the unwary adventurer if he seeks to enter without our permission." Permission that would never be granted, she was certain of it.
"So they do, and every morning, a maid comes to tidy away the broken shoes. She throws them on the refuse heap, and brings new shoes for each princess. Yet the next morning, there are more broken shoes." Kun drank deeply from her teacup. "How do you explain this?"
It was on the tip of Bianca's tongue to say that her sisters must have quite a store of broken shoes, or they retrieved them every night from the refuse heap. But that could not be. None of them would soil themselves by setting foot anywhere near the refuse heap, especially not to claim some old shoes. Instead, she said, "I can't."
"And nor can the king, or any of the adventurers who hear of this mystery. That is why the king has offered the Summer Palace and the hand of a princess in marriage to any man who can solve the mystery for him." Kun set her empty cup on the table.
Bianca still didn't understand. "All that because of some shoes?"
Kun shook her head slowly. "Not just some shoes. A dozen pairs of dancing shoes every night. Fine shoes suitable for a princess. Why, it would take a dozen craftsmen more than a day to make such shoes. And all the silk and leather that must be used to make them…why, you and your sisters will bankrupt the treasury if this keeps on much longer. What else can your father do but offer a reward to anyone who can find him a solution before you and your sisters run his treasury dry?"
"I have not had a single pair of new shoes since I arrived," Bianca objected. "Nor have I worn any out. My father cannot blame me for whatever it is my sisters do. I will not be punished for their carelessness!" She rose and stormed outside to where her clothes were almost dry. She dressed quickly, ignoring the way the still-damp cloth clung to her. It would surely dry on the ride home.
With a curt farewell to Kun, Bianca spurred her horse toward the Summer Palace.
"Not all women see marriage as a punishment," Kun called softly after her. "If you marry a good man, what feels like duty at first can be a pleasure, in time."
The horse snorted, echoing Bianca's sentiments. She might have lived a sheltered life, but she'd lived in a harem. A harem full of wives who spoke little of the pleasures of marriage. If a woman wanted pleasure of any kind, she must make it for herself. The pleasure of a refreshing ride, or a brisk walk by the lake. Such were the pleasures available to her now, and Bianca found very little enjoyment in Kun's company if the old woman intended to harp on about duty.
Instead, she would ask her sisters to let her know their secret, and protect it so fiercely no man would pry it from her. For if no man solved the mystery, no man could marry one of them. It was the perfect solution.
Nine
After an hour's journey up the road, with no signs of the palace or even a break in the woods, Vasco was ready to curse the shoemaker into oblivion for his poor directions. But, he reasoned, his steps were slower than most, what with his limp and all, so perhaps the shoemaker's directions were for a fitter man than he. Or the palace was as well hidden as the village. Neither would have surprised him, so he trudged wearily on.
This time, when he saw a cottage, he paused to scan th
e woods for the rest of the village. However, this cottage truly did stand alone. From its falling down state, he doubted anyone lived there now. But an empty cottage that no one lived in was a place he could happily spend the night. Nevertheless, the door to this cottage stood shut, so he knocked tentatively on it instead of barging inside.
To his surprise, a querulous elderly voice said, "Who is it?"
Vasco wet his lips, suddenly nervous. "My name is Vasco," he said. "I am a wounded soldier, recently returned from war. I seek a meal, and perhaps a bed for the night, and, in exchange, I offer my services." He eyed the holes in the roof. "For instance, I could fix your roof so that the next time it rains, it no longer leaks."
The door creaked open and a wrinkled face peered out. "Fixing my roof is no small job," she said. "You would need a place to sleep for more than one night, and you'd more than earn your meals between."
Vasco smiled at the old woman. "Honoured grandmother, we have a deal."
She eyed him suspiciously. "I'm not your grandmother, boy. I'd remember a strapping soldier like you. You can call me Kun." She gave him another hard look before she added, "And you can sleep in the barn with the goats." She cackled. "For I've no use for a handsome soldier in my bed. Not at my age."
Vasco smiled wistfully, for now, she reminded him of his own grandmother. She had not lived to see her village slaughtered. "You must have few visitors, if you think me handsome. And I have better luck with goats than women, so the barn is a good place for me." After all, three goats had survived the massacre of his village. Three goats and one man, but no women. Goats' milk had kept him alive long enough to join the army, when he traded them for the price of his weapons and armour. None of them had been his family's goats, but he had reasoned that the spirits of the slain would have happily handed over their last livestock in order to exact vengeance from their murderers. Perhaps it would help their spirits rest. For Vasco knew it would be a long time before he would know a good night's rest.
"Come in, then," Kun said, stepping back and holding the door wide open. "There is soup in the pot, and fresh straw in the barn. It will be dark soon, and repairs can wait until morning."
Gratefully, Vasco stepped into the dark cottage, his stomach rumbling so loudly at the first whiff of soup that he hardly heard the door slam shut behind him.
Ten
It was not to be, Bianca found when she reached home. Her sisters were already in the dining hall, studiously ignoring a new adventurer whose eye-watering pink robe fit so badly Bianca wondered whether Efe was trying to blind them.
The new man was well into his cups when his eyes fixed on her. "Well, aren't you a pretty one?" he slurred. "Mayhap I'll take you to wife, so I can see if you're as pale under that robe as you are above it."
Bianca was too tired to be courteous to this buffoon. "I assure you, I am not. Beneath this robe, I'm covered in thick fur like one of the bears from the mountains. I must shave my face every morning to stop the fur from growing. And cut my claws, lest I disembowel someone by mistake." She curled her fingers into claws and bared her teeth.
Hazel choked on her soup. Aruna had to pound her on the back as a coughing fit engulfed her, effectively ending the conversation for several minutes.
When she thought no one was looking, Brenna set her dog on the table, who scampered straight for the man's goblet. Bianca had to smother a laugh, for this wasn't the first time she'd seen Brenna set the dog on their unwanted dinner guests. She was certain her sister had trained the animal to only drink from a man's cup. Or perhaps he only drank wine, for all her sisters' cups contained water tonight.
"Cursed creature!" With a backhand blow, he sent the little, yelping dog flying off the table to hit the wall. It slid to the floor, looking stunned, before it crawled under the table to hide from the horrible man.
"I shall fetch you some fresh wine," Bianca said through gritted teeth, wishing she could slip poison into the cup. No man who hurt a helpless animal so deserved to live, let alone marry. What if he treated his wife that way?
She swept out of the room before he could say anything more. Bianca considered heading to her bedchamber for the sword beneath her bed, but she dismissed the idea almost as soon as she'd thought of it. She'd never handled a sword, and with his greater strength, he would easily beat her in a fight. Women didn't wield swords, anyway. They fetched wine and waited for the fool to fall asleep.
The jug she carried back was so full a little slopped over the brim at every step, but grim determination drove her. Bianca would do her best to get the man to drink himself to death before he could do the dog further injury.
She filled his cup, and filled it again, until the jug was empty. To her chagrin, he seemed no closer to succumbing to sleep than he had earlier. Yet her own eyes felt heavy, what with all the climbing and spell-casting she'd done at Kun's today.
Bianca rose unsteadily to her feet. "More wine," she muttered, stumbling a little as she headed for the door.
Hazel appeared at her elbow. "Let me help you, sister," she said, prying the jug from Bianca's fingers.
Bianca gratefully accepted the other girl's arm. "I went for a long ride today. Too long, I think. So….tired," she yawned.
Hazel glanced back at the dining hall. "His boasting is enough to put anyone to sleep. Retire early. I'll fetch the wine and make your excuses." She gave Bianca a push in the direction of their sleeping chamber.
Bianca nodded and did as she was bidden. It wasn't until she was tucked in her bed that she remembered wanting to ask her sisters about the mystery. Ah, it would wait until morning. It wasn't like the mystery was going anywhere. They'd want a huge pile of shoes to guard against tonight's buffoon.
She drifted off into dreamless sleep.
Eleven
As Vasco slid from the roof, he tried to think of a way to tell Kun that she was lucky her house hadn't fallen down around her ears. Yet. But he was a soldier, not a diplomat.
"Well?" Kun demanded, her hands on her hips.
Vasco blew out a breath. "You were right," he said heavily. "The roof doesn't need repairing as much as it needs replacing completely. I think some of the beams are rotten, too. I noticed last night that one of the barn walls has a definite lean to it, though the roof is in better repair. If it rains, my bed with the goats might be drier than yours here in the house."
Her eyes were shrewd as she regarded him. "So how long do you propose to squash my straw and eat my larder bare, soldier boy?"
Vasco looked her in the eye. "As long as you have work you wish me to do, ma'am." He coughed. "But the repairs to your roof and the barn will likely take a week or two, depending on how long it takes me to find good timber."
Kun waved at the woods around. "There are trees aplenty, boy. Take your pick."
He nodded. "A week, then."
"A week's work for just room and board? Surely you will ask for more than that," she said.
Vasco spread his arms wide. "It is all I ask," he said carefully. "But if you choose to gift me with something more, I will not refuse."
She nodded slowly. "Very well. A bed, board, and a gift to match how good a job you do. We have a deal, though you are a fool to accept it."
He shrugged. "We are all foolish at some point in our lives. But no more foolish than necessary. Which is why I think I shall spend the morning chopping firewood for you before I take your axe into the woods, for a hard worker deserves a hot meal at the end of the day. That soup you made last night was the best I've ever tasted."
"Flatterer," Kun scoffed. "I'll wager your mother makes better."
"Alas, my mother roams the spirit world now. She has no need for soup, not that she ever did. My father hated the stuff, so she never made it." Vasco bowed his head briefly before turning away and making his way toward the chopping block. If his eyes seemed watery, and he had to blink back what felt suspiciously like tears, no one would see.
He swung the axe a little harder than necessary, but he told himself that Kun n
eeded kindling as much as big logs to burn the night through. He could no longer cut down his enemies, but a few trees would fall to his frustration before the day was out.
The skin of his back crawled, as if someone was watching him, but Vasco ignored it. It was probably only Kun, not some enemy who would attack him. Right now his only enemy was wood, and he was more than a match for it.
Twelve
When day dawned, Bianca stepped over the pile of shoes without a second thought. She tiptoed past the snoring adventurer and made her way to the dining hall, where she knew breakfast would be served for her. While she ate, the kitchen staff prepared a basket of provisions for her to take on her ride. Usually she gave most of it to Kun in thanks for the woman's time training her, for there was far too much for one person, but Bianca wondered what the staff would say if she returned with a basket that wasn't empty.
They might send less food with her on the morrow, she decided, which would not do. She had no other way of repaying Kun.
So, though it was the last place she wanted to go after Kun's comments yesterday, she guided her horse along the road to the old woman's house.
The sound of an axe biting into wood stopped her before she reached the cottage. Tethering her horse to a tree, out of sight of the road, Bianca paused for only a moment to render herself invisible before she continued on foot.
It was probably some villager, looking for some healing herbs or a good luck charm from Kun. It wasn't the first time Bianca had arrived when Kun had a customer, so she was content to wait until the man was gone. A princess shouldn't speak to the villagers, especially not the men. For the adventurers Efe set at their table were coarse enough, under the thin veneer of good manners they assumed, but a peasant who had no need to pretend to be polite might do anything.
Revel: Twelve Dancing Princesses Retold (Romance a Medieval Fairytale Book 4) Page 3