by J. Conrad
Seren’s warning still haunted me. I could see her as a snarling black Rai, hulking over me baring her sharp fangs. Trystan couldn’t linger here. Until I was presented to him by Lysidia herself, I was to keep my distance. I had no way to prove my identity to any of them.
“Trystan, I’ll be attending the royal ball tomorrow. Perhaps you should go now with your companions, and we can see each other then?”
“You?” the dark-haired man said, his face puckering like he’d just smelled something foul.
My stomach knotted. “Yes. The proclamation said that every eligible maiden is to attend.”
Still ignoring Heffon, Trystan shook his head, the anger in his eyes fading to something more like pain. “Elin, it doesn’t matter if you attend or not. I’m not allowed to choose anymore. Any choice I had ended when I resigned myself to my mother’s plan.”
But the words that came into my mind were, When you left me in the woods. When I thought I would never see you again.
“If only you had died, girl, then all this foolishness would be behind us,” Heffon said. “I suppose there’s still time. I’m not above arranging it.”
Trystan stiffened, turning and punching the man across the face. His knuckles cracked against the man’s jaw, making him sway to get his footing. The other two men came closer still, slightly bent as if ready to pounce, but even now they didn’t lay a hand on Trystan—Prince Tarian. It struck me that they were afraid of him.
I knew I wasn’t supposed to say too much. But there was no reason I couldn’t think it, at least some of it. As the left side of Heffon’s face turned poppy red, I put a hand on Trystan’s arm. I focused, remembering how the Draugosero had kept some of their thoughts from me around the campfire. I needed only Trystan to receive my thought-speak.
Trystan. I am the girl. I’m the Fae girl you’re supposed to marry—to join our lines.
Trystan pulled his gaze from his entourage, his expression softening as he looked down at me. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but I shook my head.
“What the hell is she doing?” one of the previously silent men asked.
“Bewitching him,” Heffon said through gritted teeth, but Trystan held up a hand to silence him.
Trystan, please forgive me for leaving you. I’ve learned so much since we parted. The royal ball is our chance to be together. Trust me.
What are you saying, Elin? he asked.
We were right: I learned that my maternal grandmother is pure Fae. I’ve also spoken with your mother, the Wolf Queen. I know everything—well, almost everything. My bloodline was kept secret from me my whole life. But my grandmother, Eiriana, said that I’m to attend the ball—that she will bring us together, I told him.
“Elin,” Trystan said aloud, his face working in various portrayals of disbelief. Then in thought-speak he asked, So, you’re saying that your Fae grandmother implied you’re the chosen Fae girl?
She didn’t imply. She stated precisely. She said it must be me, because there is no one else of the proper line, I replied. Thinking of the disjointed conversation with the grey squirrel, my jaw twitched.
“Your Highness, please,” Heffon said.
“In a moment,” Trystan said. Elin, what are you not telling me?
I asked my grandmother who the prince was—and the nature of his lineage. She wouldn’t say. It was your mother, Seren, who finally revealed that you had been chosen to be prince—Prince Tarian. A Draugosero with royal blood of both wolf and human, to join with a Fae-human girl. This joining will unite our races, giving us the strength to overcome the Calek.
The flash in his eyes mirrored the conviction of my words. He answered, No matter how much I may want what you say to be true, my presence at the ball determines my fate for good. If you’re mistaken, I will be given another woman tomorrow—and I must marry her. Until now, I thought I would never see you again. And now you’re here, looking so ill cared for and unwell—here on the eve of all that will transpire if I go through with this. The chosen Fae girl would not appear so. It is… nearly unthinkable. If you are she, you would’ve been groomed for this from birth. I don’t know what to believe anymore.
I nodded. I don’t blame you for doubting. But listen to my thoughts. Look into my mind. Am I lying? I asked. Trystan reached out and put his gloved hand to my cheek as he studied my face. He shook his head.
Had he secretly been planning not to attend the ball tomorrow, to slip away and leave his duty behind? From what he had just told me, I wasn’t sure. It sounded much like his talk when we lived in the woods together.
“Your Highness,” Heffon said.
Trystan withdrew his hand and backed away. His gaze, which had been affectionate and gentle before, now seemed darker and withdrawn. The handsome face hardened with a different emotion. He stared at me coldly, answering his companion. “Yes. I’m coming.”
Trystan? What’s happening? I asked, my bottom lip feeling numb as it hung there.
I’ve been played like a harp for so long that I have almost grown used to it, he replied. But I never expected to be treated thus by you.
I shook my head, wishing I could shake him out of whatever was the matter with him. No, no. There must be some misunderstanding. You know I’m telling the truth. I know you do. I really am she—I’m the Fae girl.
Trystan gathered his horse’s reins and pulled himself up in the saddle. While his mount sidled, awaiting a command, the prince’s eyes lingered on me as his companions remounted. He knew I wasn’t lying; he could see my mind, but a storm was brewing behind those wild, canine eyes.
His thoughts came into my mind again, but his mental voice had changed. It was frigid, oddly removed. The question is, how do I know you didn’t find out who I am and have since sought to make a better life for yourself? How will I ever know, Elin? The words stung like vinegar in an infected wound. Well, he didn’t know. Just as I hadn’t known his true feelings when he had wanted me.
“Wait!” I called out, but he had already kicked his horse into a canter. He didn’t turn to look at me.
My mind as blank as the chalky winter sky, I stood there silently. I was a wet and shivering servant girl, watching Prince Tarian and his hunting party depart. The tears of irony felt warm as they trickled down my cheeks. It was the only warmth I felt at all. I watched the horses’ tails swish to the beat of their canter, their hooves kicking up sod as they faded into the woods. In all my pleading and assurances of bloodlines and parentage, I hadn’t mentioned that I loved him.
I had no more strength left to wrestle with the wet rug in the freezing weather. Maybe tomorrow morning I would be able to summon the will for it. As I started toward the kitchen door near the wood pile, I heard a dog barking somewhere around the front of the house.
“Jack?” I called. “Jack?” I pushed my stiff body into a jog, following the dirt road from the stables. I saw a brown dog coming down the gentle hill after the lane, barking and wagging his tail. I would know that loping run anywhere. Our faithful hound had returned, with two ravens circling above him letting out the occasional “caw.” I guess they had decided to follow him until the end.
I met up with him and dived down to wrap him in my arms. He licked my face, so much so that I couldn’t ask him anything, but only laugh. But internally, my stomach flurried like moths inside a jar. I’m so glad you returned safely, Jack. Come to the barn and I’ll feed you, and you can tell me everything. Reflexively, I reached for the leather pouch I’d affixed to his collar.
Whimpering, Jack replied, Elin, I found Talies, but I feel I have failed you.
My heart skipped a beat. For a moment I couldn’t breathe, then I gulped in the chilly air. Failed me? Why? Was he—was he—
He was alive, Jack confided, and I let out a long, shaky breath.
Then what? I asked. Was he unwell or injured?
He seemed to become angry while he was looking at the message you sent. He put some of his own marks on it. Perhaps they’ll tell us what was the matter?
Elin,
All is well, but for my dismay when I received your letter. Your stepmother and I exchanged messages only a week ago and she assured me that the household was in good order. I know my remarriage has been hard on you. But to tell such a lie to compel my return is more than I believed you capable. Please find it in your heart to assume your place in our new family. I expect to be home in late spring, and we will put things to rights.
Your Father
I tried to stand, but a head rush made me lose my balance. An ache formed behind my eyes as I shook my head. What lie had I told? I couldn’t believe that Gwyneth, as devious as she was, would tell her husband that we had money and food when we in fact did not. I knew that Father wasn’t here to see things for himself. But knowing this helped little and I swallowed to keep from bursting into tears.
If he thought I was lying about our financial situation, imagine if I told him that Mother was alive and trapped in the Fae Realm. I snorted, smiling wanly at nothing. Seeing nothing. My faithful dog’s brown silhouette blurred before my eyes.
Elin? Jack asked.
But Father was alive. That was great news. Surely, I was happy he was alive, even though he was upset with me. And of course, I was—I was glad he was alive, as any daughter would be. Yet somehow the injustice which suffocated me beneath the bleak, winter clouds muted my relief. My hand which held the letter fell limp at my side.
Jack whined softly, nuzzling his cold, wet nose into the side of cheek. What does it say, Elin?
In a hollow voice, I replied out loud, “He says I’m a liar.”
Chapter 20
Imade it through the serving of dinner in a hypnotic trance. Since I had prepared the vegetables and meat earlier, all I had to do was cook them. I watched my hands go through the motions, plating the food and setting it on the table. I ate my own portion in the kitchen alone, barely chewing or tasting it. When my plate was clean, the fork fell from my limp fingers and clattered onto the table. I didn’t bother to wait around for the others’ dirty dishes. I retreated to my room to work on the gown.
I lit a lantern and placed it on the hardwood floor. With Mother’s golden dress spread out on the rug, I sat next to my sewing box and contemplated the task. My vision blurred as I thought of Father’s message, so vivid in my mind and yet so unreal somehow. Why had Gwyneth told me he was dead? She had sent the help away, so maybe she had been misinformed, but how? Unless the whole thing was a ploy to break me, but the no-help situation was hard on her too. I was so confused I couldn’t think about it anymore. I wiped away a tear before it fell and took a deep breath, trying to focus on the gown.
I needed to add another layer, and should probably change the lace at the neckline, sleeves, and hem. All the materials I had gathered lay on the bed, within arms’ reach, but as I fumbled for the proper size needle, my shaking fingers seemed to remember only how to stab themselves.
I leaned against the bed, allowing my sore arms to go slack at my sides. I closed my eyes. What if I did all of this—Gwyneth’s extra tasks heaped onto my already unfair workload, and now staying up late to sew—and Trystan wasn’t even present at the ball tomorrow? Or what if he was and he rejected me? He had essentially done as much today. I should have kept my mouth shut, but how could staying quiet have yielded a better result? There seemed to be no choice I could make which was the right one. Too tired to do any more, I felt myself drifting off sitting up.
Tap, tap, tap.
My eyes fluttered open for an instant. Maybe it had started to rain. The sun had set, and I couldn’t see anything outside the window. I stretched my arms, feeling sore muscles in every part of me. If I was going to hang the rug and wash the draperies tomorrow, I needed to get some real sleep. The gold dress really wasn’t appropriate for a ball gown in its present state, but there was only so much work one person could do.
Tap, tap… Tap. Tap, tap, tap.
Pushing myself to my feet, I realized that someone, or something, was tapping on the window. Rubbing the sleep from my swollen eyes, I picked up the lantern and slowly walked toward the sound. In the golden glow I could see my visitor—a black raven on the ledge outside. Especially large, the bird was rapping its beak against the glass.
“Ren, you came back to me,” I whispered. I placed the lantern on my dressing table and with trembling arms, heaved open the squeaky window. The glossy, black bird tilted her head and looked up at me. “I didn’t know ravens could fly at night.”
Ren strutted inside my room on the interior sill, blinking up at me with her beady, black eyes. The hour is late for me, but you asked for my help.
I smiled and felt some of the tautness come out of my face. The raven was different than I remembered. Her thoughts seemed more sophisticated than the bird who liked buttons. And she had flown here in darkness. How could she see?
Was it your conspiracy who removed all the food while I was away?
Yes, it was I, and many others. Did it help, Elin? she asked.
I nodded. Oh, yes. Very much.
Good. For I’ve found more help for you still. They’ve come at my bidding to do this next task for you.
This task? What task do you mean? I couldn’t believe she meant the obvious.
Your gown of course.
To Ren’s left and right, I now noticed small, furry animals scurrying toward to the window, squeaking and raising up their little noses at me. Rats of grey, black, and tan gathered there. They placed their paws on the sill as they peered inside, blinking at the lantern light.
Wonders never ceased. I laughed softly, putting my hand to my heart and gaping at the raven. I stepped aside and bowed, extending my hand toward the gown spread out on the floor. By all means! I’m truly grateful.
A blast of cold air accompanied the mischief of rats which poured in from the wintry night. I sat on my dressing stool, speechless as I watched them, over a dozen of them, dashing about near my sewing box and fabric sections. With Ren inside on the sill, I closed the window to keep out the draft.
Command them, Ren thought to me. Tell them what they’re to do.
With my arms wrapped around my stomach in disbelief, I telepathically explained my ideas for the alterations to the gown in the simplest terms I could muster. The raven croaked, and she fluttered to the bed, overseeing our guests as they set about the job. At first, their efforts made them appear like scavengers in the flickering lantern light: frantic, bumbling, and uncoordinated. Gradually, the rats organized themselves, developing a rhythm of which I hadn’t known they were capable. Some climbed on the bed, passing down the lace to their kin on the floor, while others arranged themselves on the rug, tugging at the gown with their paws. Others set about threading needles and stitching the new layer in place.
I stayed on my seat, watching mutely as the rats prepared my ball gown by nothing more than lantern light—rats who came to aid me, who had scaled the grey, brick wall of Blaenwood under cover of darkness. An hour later and the task was done. My ball gown hung on a hanger on an outer wardrobe knob for my inspection. I touched the satiny, gold fabric, examining the new, fuller layer, the new lace trim, and some extra sequins the rats had added to the bodice.
“It’s unbelievable—magical,” I said out loud, forgetting for a moment that I shouldn’t be speaking in case Gwyneth was nearby. Thank you, I thought, turning to look at the many furry rodents crouched in various places throughout my chamber. How can I ever repay this kindness?
Ren, who had been standing on the rug, flew up to the vanity top. Only proceed with your plan. If you succeed, that is payment enough. Animals too are affected by the evil the Calek wreak in this world.
You know that much. What has changed in you, Ren? I asked.
I’ve flown far, and I learned much beyond the ferns. I see differently now, as do many others of my kind. She croaked, tur
ning her head to the closed window. Now, descendant of Lysidia, if you’re satisfied with their handiwork, I ask that we may take your leave. It’s late, and it’s unnatural for me to fly in such darkness.
She had been to the Fae Realm and had even spoken with my grandmother? I didn’t ask, but nodded as I pushed open the window, which creaked from the temperature. The chill it let in was such a small price to pay for the miracle that Ren and her guests had bestowed upon me. Yes, the dress is beautiful. You have my lifelong gratitude. Thank you, Ren. And thank you—all of you.
Ren hopped back to the sill. The rats began to stir, their paws pattering across the floor as they scampered to the cove molding beneath the window. I could see that the wall was too smooth for them to scale. One by one, I picked up the warm, furry rodents and set them on the sill, where they nosed onto the ledge outside. With a throaty caw, Ren flapped her wings and flew off into the frigid air. I watched her disappear into the inky, black sky.
Chapter 21
The next morning, I awoke before dawn, as usual. I stretched under the blankets, my arms and back screaming in protest from sore muscles. Shifting my legs and trying to find the will to get up, the first thing that came to my mind was the message Jack delivered from my father. “...to tell such a lie... is more than I believed you capable.” His daughter the liar; that was who I was to him. Then I saw Trystan backing away, his face hard with distrust. I had said too much, and yet not enough—not the three little words that might have mattered.
I thought of the rug outside, which was probably frozen solid by now, on the courtyard patio. Not to mention the animals who needed feeding, breakfast, and the damn draperies on top of my other chores. I shivered, pulling the covers over my head and wishing it would all just go away.
Like the black pearl glowing in the Fae Realm, an image of the golden ball gown flashed into my mind. Ren and the rats! I cast off the blankets, looking to see if the dress was still hanging on my wardrobe knob as I remembered it from last night. It was there. It wasn’t a dream—my ball gown was finished, and soon there would be enough light for me to try it on.