First Light

by Michele Paige Holmes

  “Lovely,” I murmured but returned her smile. In the orchard last night, I’d been desperate for her to hear them. If she had, it was likely what had saved me.

  “Nadamaris has great powers.” Florence allowed the curtain to fall back into place. “All of them used to destroy.” Her eyes were sad.

  “Even you could not outrun her temper,” Zipporah said.

  “Don’t you mean tempest?” I asked.

  The fairies all shook their heads.

  “'Twas her temper,” Merry Anne explained. “She was in a rare form when she realized it was these orchards that fed so many of Canelia’s starving.”

  I remembered the fierce wind that had nearly swept me away, the bitter cold that had blackened my toes. “How is it that one woman, a human being, can control the wind and clouds and—”

  “She is not entirely human,” Florence reminded me.

  “And she does have command— though 'tis limited still— over the elements.” Merry Anne’s usual jovial manner was absent. “It is what has caused the drought and suffering you’ve seen.”

  “Don’t give up hope,” Florence said. “All is not lost. You are better already, and that—”

  “That will do, Florence,” Merry Anne said, rising to her feet and fixing each of her sisters with a rather serious look. “Adrielle needs sleep. Let us go.”

  “Don’t leave.” I attempted to raise my hand, but it— along with the rest of my body— suddenly felt very heavy. Oh Florence, what have you done?

  “What about my toes? Please don’t cut them off.” Against my will, my eyelids closed. Bewitched again.

  After what I guessed to be about three days in bed— I hadn’t a complete account of the time that had passed, as Florence’s healing tea had caused me to sleep through much of it— I had no intention of resting any longer.

  When I awoke and found not a soul or fairy— that I could see, anyway— in the room, I wasted no time throwing back the quilts to discover whether or not the worst had happened.

  The sight that met me brought tears to my eyes, and I wept with both joy and sorrow as nine of my toes, pink and whole, without a blemish upon them, wiggled happily. They seemed no worse for the ordeal they’d gone through, but the tenth, the littlest toe on my right foot, remained a lifeless, black stub. Summoning courage, I drew my knee up to my chest and touched the offensive appendage, partly to make sure it was still all there, partly to see if I could even feel it.

  I could, though it refused to move at all, even when I concentrated my hardest.

  “Black magic always leaves a mark.” Fairy wings beat softly beside my face, and Zipporah came to rest on my shoulder. “We did the best we could, my sisters and I,” she explained. “You’ll be able to run almost as fast as before. And you can keep that toe as well, though it will always look and feel as it does now.”

  “Oh, thank you,” I cried, wishing I could hug her. I could live with one ugly toe, but I wasn’t sure I would have been able to endure losing them all, losing my ability to run. At that moment, magic seemed the most blessed thing on earth. I vowed never again to doubt, but to throw myself wholeheartedly into supporting the fairies and ending Nadamaris’s curse.

  “I must go and tell the others you’re awake.” Zipporah took flight, disappearing as quickly as she’d arrived.

  Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I took a moment to steady myself and more fully take in the luxuries surrounding me. On the far side of the chamber, a fire crackled in the immense fireplace, bringing both light and warmth. A pink, plush, comfy-looking chair resided next to the fire, and on a round table beside it lay a pretty silver tea set and a tray of cookies.

  Feeling suddenly hungry, I slid carefully from the high bed— I noticed a narrow set of stairs near the foot of the bed after I’d landed quite hard— and helped myself to both a cookie and the chair.

  From here I studied the canopied four-poster bed that rose up in splendor, its lavish curtains swept back to reveal the intricately embroidered quilt and piles of pillows. The curtains at the window matched those of the bed, and a dressing screen on the far side of the room boasted the same fabric. Behind that, I could make out a large wardrobe.

  Though curious about its contents, I felt more eager to explore the rest of the castle, namely the servants’ quarters, where I hoped to find news of my sister. Deciding it best not to take the time to find something to change into— lest the fairies returned— I started out. Wearing only a night shift and wrapper, and with my feet bare, I left the lavish chamber, making my way out into a splendid hall adorned with portraits of generations of Canelian royalty. My feet on the stone were quiet, leaving no need for me to tiptoe, but I did so anyway, still overcome with gratitude that I was in possession of my toes.

  Beneath the portraits, elegant tables lined the corridor, holding vases overflowing with the most exotic and fragrant flowers I’d ever seen.

  Florence has something to do with these, no doubt. I paused and leaned over to press my face into one of the bouquets. The most exquisite sweetness filled my senses, at once clouding my mind and leaving me intoxicated with the heady scent.

  “Don’t do that!” A feminine voice yelled sharply as a hand pulled me away from the flowers— as if I’d been an errant child stealing a sweet.

  My head began to ache and spin, but I shrugged off the hand and faced a dark-haired beauty, the very one I’d seen walking with Cristian the afternoon before the storm.

  Princess Cecilia.

  I thought suddenly of my mother and hoped she could not see this moment, when, in my state of dishevelment and undress, I actually was meeting a real, live princess.

  “I wasn’t going to steal them,” I said, inclining my head toward the flowers. “I only wanted to enjoy their fragrance."

  “Their scent will make you very ill. They’ve a befuddling spell on them.” The princess held her hands out, as if afraid I might fall. “Oh dear, I fear it has worked already. Are you quite well?”

  “Yes,” I said, though I crossed the hall to the other side, where I could lean against the wall.

  “I’m sorry,” the princess continued. “We never intended you to be alone. I thought I’d be up to greet you before you got out of bed. Mother’s only just left your room.”

  “The queen was with me?” This made me feel even more uncomfortable than I did at the moment, standing here in a nightgown, talking to the princess.

  “We’ve all taken a turn,” Princess Cecilia said. “Father, Mother, Cristian, and I.”

  Cristian?

  “Let me help you back to bed.” The princess stepped forward and took my arm. “Florence made the flowers irresistible to anyone who doesn’t know their secret. They’re made to lure strangers in with their beauty, then hold them prisoner with their sweet scent. A person is never able to leave on her own and never able to find my chamber.”

  “I see.” I allowed her to guide me back to the room I’d left. In the space of a heartbeat I’d succumbed to the spell and now suffered for it.

  “I hope you like your chamber.” The princess sounded almost nervous.

  “It’s divine.” I turned to her. “As lovely as you are.” There was no denying her flawless skin, silken hair, and fine features. It pained me to admit it, but the princess was as beautiful as Cristian was handsome.

  She looked away, as if uncomfortable with such praise. I made my way unsteadily over to the chair beside the fire. Princess Cecilia followed, sitting on the matching footstool. My head was starting to clear, and I realized the opportunity before me.

  “Do you know why I was summoned to the castle a few days past?”

  “I suppose it was about the wedding cake.” She did not look at me as she spoke. “But then you didn’t come, and there was that awful storm, so they brought you here to recover. This is the loveliest— and safest— chamber in the castle.”

  “This is your room?” I guessed. On trembling legs, I rose from the chair. Mother may not have been entirely su
ccessful in teaching me proper manners, but I knew it ought to be me on the footstool, or standing, while Cecilia sat in the chair.

  “I’m so glad you like it,” she said, ignoring my surprise and retaining her seat on the stool. “'Tis your chamber now— while you recover,” she added.

  “I couldn’t,” I said, taken aback at such a generous offer. “I feel better already. Perhaps I can sleep in the maids’ quarters.”

  “No. Here it has to be. Merry Anne’s explicit orders,” Cecilia said.

  “But why?” I asked.

  The princess shrugged. “Why not? The other rooms are full to bursting with Cristian’s family. And quite honestly, I shall enjoy the company. Unless, that is, you’d rather be alone?”

  Her eyes shone with a sudden vulnerability, and she bit her lip, as if uncertain of my response.

  “No.” I shook my head. “I do not wish to be alone.” I looked at her more closely, seeing, for the first time, something beyond her beauty and delicate features.

  She sighed. “I’m ever so glad. May we start again? I’d not planned on our first meeting being me ordering you to remove your head from a plant.”

  I couldn’t seem to help my smile. “What had you planned?”

  “This.” Her face grew serious. She slid off the stool and fell down on her knees. “It is an honor to finally meet you, Adrielle. I’ve waited ever so long.”

  “What— what are you doing?” I stepped backward, away from her. “You mustn’t kneel before me.”

  “May I hug you then?” Without waiting for an answer, she stood and rushed forward, circling her arms around me. “I must hug you.”

  I stood awkwardly, conscious of my rough, dry skin; my dull, straight hair, my simple nightgown. And worse than that, the fact I was so undeserving of her kindness. I wished to steal her betrothed.

  “Welcome,” she said, stepping back to look at me, shocking me further by the tears glistening in her eyes— eyes that seemed somehow familiar.

  I stared at them curiously. “Do you know anything of my sister?”

  The princess shook her head.

  “I think,” I began, then stopped, wary of even voicing such an untamed thought. “I think you look very much like I imagined she might. And her name is Cecilia, too.”

  The princess’s lip trembled. “Oh, Adrielle. You are wrong. I’m so sorry. I wish Merry Anne hadn’t led you to believe otherwise, but you’ve no sister here at the castle. No sister anywhere in Tallinyne.”

  “That’s impossible.” I stepped back as if she’d dealt me a physical blow. “We sent her a letter. My parents spoke of her.”

  “Did they?” the princess asked, a pained expression on her face.

  “Yes,” I said. “She is real. I must find her. 'Tis why I’ve come.”

  Princess Cecilia leaned forward and took my hands in hers. “The fairies brought you here for another purpose— which is not mine to say. But I must tell you this. The sister you speak of is gone. The Cecilia your parents loved is no more.”

  I am without home and family— any family. I hadn’t realized how much hope I’d pinned on finding my eldest sister, until the princess’s confession that she was not here. Bitter was my disappointment, and once more I felt adrift, without place or purpose. Though I’d pressed Princess Cecilia to tell me what had happened to my Cecilia— for I realized I thought of her that way now— the princess refused, saying she was forbidden from speaking of it. Merry Anne also dismissed my questions, saying that now was not the time for them. And so I spent the next few hours in a sort of pained, disoriented haze.

  Everyone attributed my condition to smelling the bewitching bouquet. I knew otherwise. This latest loss cut deeply.

  And the day was not done with me yet. When I had been fussed and fretted over all morning, Cecilia informed me that we would be dining with her parents and Cristian. Just hearing his name, and knowing I would be seeing him again, sent my heart to racing.

  I am wretched. The thought occurred to me over and over again as I spent time in the princess’s company.

  “You must call me Cecilia,” she’d insisted. “For though there is no blood between us, I feel you could be my sister.”

  I didn’t feel that way at all. As if my hands, hair, clothing, and manner were not different enough, I soon came to realize the difference in our hearts was even greater. A sense of friendship, caring, and genuine goodness radiated from the princess, whereas I could not help the continuous jealousy that entered my heart when I thought of her marrying Cristian. I might have distracted him for a while, but he would love her. It would be impossible not to. I myself could not help but like her greatly. But that doesn’t change my feelings for Cristian.

  I am wretched. And I’d no doubt the king and queen would soon discover it. And then what shall be my fate? Perhaps they would bake me in the oven instead of having me bake the wedding cake.

  “You look as if you’ve stuck your face in the flowers again,” Cecilia said as we left the hall and descended a grand staircase.

  “Not a bad idea.” I glanced longingly at the vases. Better befuddled than facing the king and queen— and Cristian.

  She laughed and linked her arm through mine. “Nonsense. Everyone will love you.”

  If you only knew.

  We left the staircase and crossed a vast hall, our floor-length gowns swishing against the stone. I’d bathed and had my hair done and wore a new gown Merry Anne had sewn for me. Though it wasn’t nearly as fancy as the princess’s, it was nicer than anything I’d ever worn and suited to my simpler tastes.

  We entered a smaller room, a library, and the king, queen, and Cristian all rose to greet us. It was all I could do to keep my eyes from him and focus on Cecilia’s parents.

  I curtsied before them.

  “Welcome, Adrielle.” The king’s voice was strangely gruff. He stepped forward to greet me.

  “Thank you.” I rose, and he took my hand, kissed the back of it, and held onto it quite a bit longer than I thought was proper. Only Merry Anne, standing beside me and clearing her throat again seemed to remind him to move back and allow the way for the queen’s greeting.

  If I’d thought the king’s salutation strange, it was nothing compared to Queen Ellen’s. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she came forward. She reached out, taking my face in her hands and holding it there, looking at me. Her gaze was probing, as if she was trying to know all about me with that one look. “You’re here.”

  “Yes, yes.” Merry Anne forced her way between us. “Isn’t it grand that Adrielle has come to make the wedding cake. Whatever would we have done without her?”

  “Thank you for your gracious welcome.” I curtsied once more, though I wasn’t sure that was required. “I am quite recovered now and should return to the kitchen. With the wedding but a week away—”

  “Six days,” corrected Cristian. “Nearly five at that.” He glanced out the window at the setting sun.

  I, too, looked out the window, if only to protect myself from meeting another’s gaze and giving away my feelings. “All the more reason I must return and help Maggie. She’ll be beside herself.” I was nearly beside myself, having just caught Cristian gazing at me with the most tender expression.

  The queen looked as if she was about to cry again. “Please stay. We’ve already arranged for Maggie to have extra help preparing for tomorrow night’s ball.”

  There is to be a ball? Before the wedding? This was news to me.

  King Addison cleared his throat. “Rather than wait for the day of the wedding for Nadamaris to strike— for we are certain she will try something— we’ve decided to beat her at her own game by opening the gates a few days early. Every precaution will be taken, everyone will be on high alert. And everyone— he looked meaningfully at Cecilia and Cristian— will be safe while we try to draw Nadamaris, or her son out and stop them before they can surprise us.”

  “I see,” I said, quite surprised at this turn of events and somberly reminded of just how
close Cristian and Cecilia’s wedding really was.

  “Do stay this evening, Adrielle,” Cristian said.

  You are as wretched as I, I thought, glaring at him. Staying here, being this close to him and with Cecilia nearby, was akin to torture.

  “Of course she will. It’s settled, then.” Cecilia linked her arm through mine again, as if to keep me from running off. “Would you care to play a game of chess, Adrielle?”

  “She won’t know how.” Henrie entered the room, looking none too pleased to find me here.

  “She plays quite well, thank you,” I said, lifting my face to meet his eye. If Henrie caught my reminder of his rudeness, he did not bother with an apology.

  “Excellent,” the king said, settling, with the queen, into the chairs nearest the fire.

  I hoped it would be. Months had passed since my last chess game with Father, on the stump in our yard beneath our favorite tree. Father had been an avid player and an exceptional teacher, never once letting me win as he taught me. Only in our last two years of playing together had I become equal to his prowess.

  Patience and planning will get you everywhere in life, Adrielle, whereas acting without thinking things through will lead to your demise every time.

  Silently I vowed to employ my father’s wisdom during the match.

  “Leave us to our game,” Cecilia ordered Henrie. “You partner with Cristian. The winners will face the other afterward.”

  “Then I shall have the pleasure of playing you later, Princess,” Henrie said, inclining his head.

  “Arrogant, that one,” Cecilia whispered when he’d headed across the room to Cristian.

  I silently agreed. How similar are our likes and dislikes. I glanced at Cristian. Too similar, I thought with another pang that was part longing, part guilt.

  We settled at a table by her parents to play with a fine set of marble pieces. They were smooth and cool, and there was no need to worry about splinters, as had often been the case with the crude figures my father had carved. Cecilia was a fine player, and I soon found the game required all my concentration. Indeed, she seemed every bit as formidable an opponent as my father, even employing many of his favorite tactics.