He grazed the side of her cheek with his other hand, his eyes never leaving hers. “You know that we can never be more than what we are right now.”
Autumn closed her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t want to marry someone else. Turning sixteen should be the happiest day of my life, not the worst.”
Stenson wrapped his arms around her. “I know, love, I know.”
The beige ruffles of her dress touched the pond, soaking the delicate lace. Autumn made no attempt to lift it out of the water; instead, she stared at the darkening fabric and kicked her feet back and forth.
“Autumn,” Stenson said, “you’re getting wet.”
“I don’t care about a frilly dress.”
With handmade lace ruffles and an ivory white corset studded with sparkling green buttons, it was more than frilly. A designer from a foreign land, the land of a potential suitor, had sent an assortment of new fashions for the princess to wear: gowns bustled in the back with a patchworked bolero, leather straps with brass buttons on a tiny hat, and corsets in black velvet with stitched birds on the lacing. It was the corsets she hated the most, too much constriction for a girl of her vigor.
With a resented sigh, Autumn stood, grabbing her dress out of the water. Stenson held her elbow with a gentle touch and she leaned against him. She breathed in the leather scent of his shirt and counted the five buttons that trailed up to his collar.
“Let’s run away,” Autumn said. “Tonight.”
“And where would we go?” He pulled her back just enough to see into her eyes. “We would be hunted.”
“I don’t want to marry anyone else,” she said again, repeating the inevitable. “How will we be together?”
Stenson had no answer. It had been a question he pondered almost every day. He had nothing to offer and no land to call his own. The king would never honor such a request from such a lowly fellow, but Stenson loved Autumn Rose with every breath, and he would not lose hope, not yet.
Autumn stood in a gown much too tight with too much lace, covered in an abundance of petal pink silk. “Oh, foo, foo,” she said.
The minstrels quieted behind the grand doors and she heard her name float around the ballroom. Two attendants swept the heavy, golden doors open with a flourish and everyone important now watched her. Autumn put on her best smile and stepped graciously into the swarm of guests. Women in dresses of fine silk and extravagant bustles, and men with the grandest of mustaches and strangest of top hats, curtsied and bowed as she passed. Her parents stood at the far end, gleaming with pride.
As she approached the throne, her father presented her to the various young lords from the nearby lands. Again, she curtsied, and the lavish ball continued. She took her place by her mother’s side. With her hands folded neatly in her lap, she searched the crowd for one she hoped to see.
Her heart leapt when she spotted Stenson strutting through the guests holding a silver tray. She wondered if he had played someone in a game of chance to be able to work in here tonight. Theirs eyes met across the vast distance. She recognized the sign he made across his chest with his finger; I love you.
Thunder, louder than the marching of the king’s army, tore into the ballroom, followed by a storm of black. The guests screamed and scattered toward the end of the ballroom.
A short, thin man with hair redder than a polished ruby appeared out of the cloud of smoke. “Did you forget to invite me, Lady Miller?” He held a white crystal object in his hand and balanced from one foot to the next.
“No, it can’t be,” Lady Miller gasped and her face tinged crimson. “Guards!” On her order, the guards surrounded the mysterious figure, muskets pointed, trapping him in a circle of death.
Lord Miller stood. “What is the meaning of this? State your name!”
“Oh, no, Lord Miller, that I cannot do, but I will explain my reason for being here.” The man’s gray eyes honed in on Autumn. “I have come to take your daughter.”
Autumn’s eyes widened with fear and her mother screamed. “Stay away from her!”
Stenson pushed his way through the mob of guests, trying to reach Autumn’s side.
Lord Miller pointed to the man who threatened his only child. “Guards, throw this man in prison, at once!”
The guards struggled forward, but failed to move even an inch. Everyone was frozen in place, except the uninvited guest. The man floated toward Lord and Lady Miller. “You see, my lord, your wife made a deal with me that cannot be broken. Your daughter is mine.”
Before anyone could protest, Autumn, the black smoke, and the strange man were gone.
“No!” Lady Miller collapsed to her knees, sobbing.
“Find that man!” Lord Miller screamed. His guards rushed out of the room.
Stenson ran to Lady Miller. “Lady Miller!”
Her personal guard slammed Stenson in the chest with the butt of his musket. “Keep your distance!”
Stenson ignored the pain and cried, “Please, you don’t understand, I know that man!”
Immediately, the Lord and Lady looked his way, and Lord Miller waved him through. Stenson calmed his ragged breath and approached the throne.
“How do you know that villain?” Lord Miller glared at Stenson with a crushing glance.
“He is my father.”
Stenson should have known revealing the connection could cause an early death, but he would not abandon Autumn. He sat in an isolated room, waiting for Lord Miller. His hands shook with uncertainty and his stomach rolled with fear.
Lord Miller entered, flanked by two guards. He sat across from Stenson, still dressed in his regal attire. “Tell me, Stenson, is it?”
Stenson nodded, but kept his gaze lowered.
“You have worked in my stables since you were a lad, and yet I know nothing about your father. I thought he was dead.”
“I did too, your grace, but when my mother passed last spring, I saw him visiting her grave. You don’t forget a face like that.”
Lord Miller’s forehead scrunched together, his eyebrows narrowed. “What makes you sure this man is your father?”
Stenson looked puzzled. Surely Lord Miller could see the resemblance; it was undeniable. No one else in the kingdom had fire-colored hair like him.
“I think I may be able to find him,” Stenson said. “I have a relative, my mother’s sister, who lives in the Kingdom of Rain. She may know something. Please, your grace. I know I can find Autumn Rose.”
Lord Miller nodded. “All right, but you will not go alone.” He turned to the guard standing next to him. “Call Ivan and Fox, they will accompany the boy, and get the mechas. It’s time we put those contraptions to the test.”
Stenson stared up at the two figures examining him.
“He’s just a boy.” A woman with broad shoulders and wavy black hair perched a weapon, part battle axe, part gun, on her shoulder and smiled at him. “You up for this journey, little man?”
“I think he’ll do just fine.” A man with too wide a smile and at least seven feet tall patted the top of Stenson’s head like a puppy. A leather goggle covered his right eye and Stenson wondered if the man had lost it.
“Who are you?” Stenson asked while examining the mysterious horse.
“I’m Ivan, and this fiery lady is Fox.”
Fox winked and jumped onto her horse. It was made of iron, but colored in rusty brown. Steam flared out of its nostrils and cogs constructed its back. Large metal sprigs and wheels turned this way and that, creating the advanced mechanical device. Stenson couldn’t tell if the horse was alive or a machine, but it was most certainly a sight to see. There were rumors around the stables about horses running off steam: mechas, faster than real horses without the need to stop and rest. No one thought such a thing possible, until now.
Stenson inspected the duo by his side, partly intrigued and somewhat frightened. Being a stable hand, he knew most people who occupied Lord Miller’s domain. He didn’t recognize Ivan or Fox, but it mattered little. He would need al
l the help in the world to save his beloved.
“So this is the Kingdom of Rain. Kind of rainy isn’t it?” Stenson and Fox glared at Ivan through the thousands of water drops crashing around them. “What?” he said as he opened his mouth to allow the rain to fall in.
“Come on, let’s find this woman and be on our way.” Fox nodded to Stenson and he took the lead.
It had been years since Stenson had been to his family’s kingdom. He never understood why his mother had run away, but after seeing his father in the palace, stealing the one thing that mattered most, he could see her reasoning. Whatever darkness his father was into, he would end it.
The dirt pathway, arched by ancient willows, curved down into the valley where the rain pooled into a river. The village ahead was small compared to most, and the villagers kept to themselves, hiding in their huts. As the trio trotted by, Stenson sensed eyes watching them. He turned left and right, but saw no one.
He remembered his aunt’s house because part of it was carved out of a gigantic tree. “This is it,” he said while stepping off his mecha.
They left the mechas outside, and Stenson wondered if they’d rust.
He approached the door, raised his hand to knock, then lowered it. What if Aunt May didn’t remember him, or what if she didn’t live here anymore?
But Autumn was in danger, nothing else mattered.
He knocked on the rickety wooden door. “Aunt May, it’s Stenson, your nephew.”
A small woman with cautious eyes creaked the door open.
“Stenson?” She glared at him, unsure of his proclamation.
Stenson lowered his hood. “Yes, Aunt May, it’s me, Laurial’s son.”
She opened the door. Her eyes widened, a smile forming on her thin lips. “Oh, my dear boy, it is you! Come, come in.” She ushered the three inside.
For a home half in a tree, it was rather large and cozy. Ivan shook the water off his body like a hound and nearly got his head chopped off by Fox.
Aunt May hugged Stenson with all the muster a woman of her size could. “It is good to see you, my boy. How is my sister?”
He stiffened at the mention of his deceased mother.
“What’s wrong, dear?”
Stenson stepped back and touched her arms gently. “Mother passed last… “ Aunt May clutched her chest. Her eyes filled with tears, and she fell into a nearby chair. “But that’s not why I came. I need your help.” Before Aunt May could fall into sorrow, Stenson grabbed her hands and knelt on one knee. “Do you know anything about my father?”
The stranger with ruby hair put Autumn Rose in a gilded cage. She had a bronze water bowl and a matching tray with a variety of fruit. “Release me this instant!” she ordered while pushing against the bars.
“Oh, no, I cannot. You are mine.”
Autumn Rose folded her arms. “What do you plan on doing with me? I am not an animal!”
The man bounced around his overly decorated room, skipping every other step. His oversized burgundy frock coat had big golden buttons that closed nothing and black suspenders held crimson-stripped trousers which were much too short.
“I haven’t decided yet,” he said. “Maybe you shall scrub the floors, or perhaps bake me a juniper pie or spin me gold from my magical wheel.” He stared at her with wide scarlet eyes and a grin so ridiculous he appeared unwell.
“I will not. My father will come for me and when he does, you will pay for this.” Autumn Rose glared back, not showing fear, even though her hands shook.
“No one will come, and even if they take you, you’ll come back. The magic tied to you, ties to me,” he said in a singsong voice, twirling on the last word.
“LET ME OUT!”
“Be quiet, little girl. You are much too noisy.”
“LET ME OUT!” This time Autumn Rose threw a peach from her food tray through the bars, and it splatted on his head. The little man yelped and turned around with a furious expression.
“You are a nuisance and much too loud.” He wiggled his fingers. “Be silent and bother me no more.”
POOF!
“Hehehee.” He laughed and grabbed his belly, pointing at poor Autumn Rose who was now a bunny. He pointed some more before grabbing a bottle of wine and leaving the room, mumbling about crystals and birds.
Gold and red-leaf wallpaper covered every inch of space on the wall, and a large stone fireplace crackled and spit. The room had nothing but paintings of landscapes shrouded in darkness and sculptures of creatures: bunnies, fat peacocks, and owls with pinchers.
The sculptures depicted angry creatures with misshaped heads and body parts made of machines. Her eyes wandered to the far right wall where she saw three other cages. One held a life-size doll in a white petticoat; the other had a golden bird, a mechanical one like her butterfly. The bird rammed itself against the bars over and over again like it was broken. Autumn wondered what strange creation would fill the third.
Autumn leaned against the bars, wishing for a rescue when she noticed at this size, she could fit through! Once the strange man’s laughter drifted to silence, Autumn squeezed her brown body out of the cage and onto the cold stone floor.
Being a rabbit had its benefits. She scurried, quicker than a mouse, across the room and out the wooden door. From here, she saw a long hallway, every door along the way shut, and a bunny couldn’t possibly open a door.
Far at the end, she saw a flicker of candlelight. Her furry feet flew to the source. A stairwell! One hop at a time, she jumped up the steps and into an attic where her beady eyes watched a peculiar sight.
In front of the fireplace with a glass of wine in each hand, stood her kidnapper. “No one will guess. No will know. On and on my collection grows. Each pretty maiden. One for each day. Because no one can guess my name. For I’m the great Rumpelstiltskin.”
Autumn Rose twitched her nose back and forth, curious about the man who swayed to and fro. A draft from up above caught her attention and she spotted the open window. Careful not to be seen or heard, she leaped along the edge of the wall. One. Two. Three. She leapt up onto the chair, onto the dresser, and onto the beam that would take her outside.
“So, we just find out his name and that’s it?” Ivan scratched his bald head, staring at the manor in front of them.
Fox sighed and rubbed her head. “Did you hear nothing that woman said? No one has discovered the fool’s name.”
Ivan swung his triple-headed flail in an arc. The three heads had metal spikes at least an inch long. “I say we torture him until he talks!”
It was useless. They found the manor May described, but had no plan. Stenson paced, worrying about Autumn Rose.
Fox walked over to him. “We’ll figure something out. We found his home. Come, let’s set up camp and think.”
The three found a spot hidden behind one of the large oaks. They couldn’t set a fire, but they could sleep. Stenson lay down, using his pack as a headrest. His mind wandered through various memories of Autumn Rose: the way she laughed when he tickled her side, the softness of her lips, and the rosy blush on her face every time he said “I love you.” His heart felt disconnected. He knew they could never be, but at least she would have been happy. Now, with her missing…
A bunny hopped in front of him. Stenson was used to animals and shooed the creature away. Instead of fleeing, it stayed, staring at him. “Shoo,” he said again, more forcefully. The bunny hopped closer.
“Ahh, dinner!” Ivan grabbed the bunny by the scuff of its neck. It wriggled around, twitching its whiskers.
Stenson had eaten rabbit once or twice; it wasn’t the best meat, but it filled the stomach. He stared at the creature, feeling a slight tinge of guilt about roasting it.
The bunny made a gesture with its front paw. Ivan closed his hand around its neck, ready to snap it. “No!” Stenson cried, and Ivan stopped.
“You got a problem eating rodents?” Ivan said. His face scrunched in confusion.
Stenson gently took the bunny from Ivan and
set it on the ground. He wasn’t sure if what he saw truly happened or if his mind had gone mad with grief. On a whim, he swiped his finger across the left side of his chest, tracing the letter L.
The bunny copied him.
“It can’t be! Autumn Rose?” He fell on his knees, peering at the creature, hoping it wasn’t true. The bunny hopped up and down. Stenson fell back, his eyes widened.
“Is that what you caught for dinner?” Fox asked and pointed to Autumn Rose.
“He thinks that’s Miss Rose,” Ivan said, scratching his head and looking completely bewildered.
“Why would he think that?” Fox tried to grab Autumn Rose who leapt into Stenson’s lap.
“It is. I know it is. He must have cast a spell on her.” Stenson carefully picked up Autumn. “Did he do this to you?” She jumped and nodded as much as a bunny could. He exhaled. “We can’t undo the spell or the contract unless we know his name. I am so sorry.” He bowed his head afraid to look her in the eye.
Autumn Rose bounced up and down. All three companions looked at one another. “Do you know his name?” She took a giant leap in the air, landing back in his lap. Stenson smiled wildly and stood, holding her in his arms. “She knows!”
“And how do you suppose she is going to tell us?” Fox asked.
Stenson’s excitement faded and he frowned, holding Autumn Rose closer to his chest. “I don’t know.”
Stenson ran down the stone corridor, trying another door. “Locked.” He could hear the commotion upstairs and prayed Ivan and Fox were keeping Mr. What’s-His-Name occupied. Stenson grabbed the handle of the next door and hoped it would turn.
It did.
Inside the paisley room filled with numerous cages of varying sizes sat a desk. With Autumn Rose still clutched to his chest, he searched for ink or anything she could use. They had tried using dirt, but the ground was too muddy.
A small, black bottle stood on the very edge of the table with a blank piece of parchment next to it. Stenson placed Autumn Rose on the desk and carefully painted her paws with the murky liquid. Once he was finished, she scrambled around the page. Stenson squinted at the scratchy writing, trying to decipher it.
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