Sophie will know what to do. I slip into my jeans and sweatshirt, which are still lying on the floor and a bit wrinkled from yesterday. The tunnels are relatively quiet this morning. Just knocking on Sophie’s door seems loud and out of place. As soon as I do so, I feel a hand on my arm and turn toward the person I know stands next to me. It’s been a while since I spent much time with the villagers. Today is going to feel very strange after all my time with a man who has visible form.
“Yes?”
“If you’re looking for Sophie, she’s left already, my dear. You’ll find her with the herbs.” It’s an elderly woman whose name I can’t remember. Honestly, I think I’ve only spoken to her the one time when Adele was introducing me to everyone. I take a deep breath and focus all my attention on the present, on this conversation.
“The herbs?”
“Of course, my dear. She’s the apothecary. It’s her duty, poor thing. I know I would never be strong enough for such a job, especially in this place.”
She’s preparing the body. Of course. “Oh yes. Yes, thank you. I’ll go there, then.”
The woman gives my hand a squeeze. “My condolences.”
I nod and walk back down the tunnel and enter the herb room. Just like my first time here, the strong and very peculiar smell fills my head, but this time it’s not just the smell of herbs. I shake my head to clear the smell and the horrible thought. “Sophie?”
“In here, in the back!”
“Can you…can you come out a minute?”
“Oh, yes, of course. Just a moment.” I can hear her feet on the dirt floor as she joins me in front of the counters. “Good morning. You’re up early.”
“I didn’t sleep.”
“And Louna?”
“She slept fairly well, I’d say. Didn’t bother me, at least.”
“Did you have something you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Yes. I did.” It takes me a few minutes to remember. “Right. Um, for the funeral…well, I guess I thought new mourning clothes would magically appear hanging on my chair or in the closet, but there’s nothing there…what are Louna and I meant to wear?”
“Oh yes, dear, just walk on over to the clothing shop. You’ve been in all of them before, yes?”
I nod.
“There should be something for everyone in the village there. Of course, yours will be chosen for you. Just find something that looks about Louna’s size for her.”
“She’s…well, she’s the daughter.” I take a deep breath and press on. “Shouldn’t there be something particular for her?”
“There might be. It’s hard to tell with magic, especially these days.” She goes quiet for a minute and then realizes I’m waiting for her to continue, to explain. “If there’s something meant for Louna, you’ll know.”
“All right then.” I nod and turn toward the door. “Thank you.”
She returns to her work behind the counter and I walk quickly out the door, away from the awful smell. I cross the tunnel and enter the clothing store. The first thing I notice is a beautiful white gown, quite like a wedding dress, which is clearly out of place compared to any other clothing in the tunnel. It’s too delicate and pretty and lace-decorated to be a villager’s, but it’s too plain and simple to be mine. The thought makes me scoff at myself. Too plain and simple? I sound like such a spoiled pig of a princess. Then I notice a smaller black dress, much fancier than the other childrens’ clothes but still very fitting for a funeral. It must be Louna’s.
The shop appears to be crowded. Dresses, shirts, pants—all sorts of black funeral clothes float through or hover in the air. I have to walk slowly, squeezing through people, although the villagers do their best to make way for me. Finally I reach the little black dress and take it down from its hook. Then I glance around. The adult women’s clothing stands to the right of the white dress on display. I inch my way over to the very crowded corner.
“Aren’t you going to take your gown, Princess?” A young voice speaks from beside me. I turn around to face her and see a bundle of children’s clothes hovering, folded like in the crook of an unseen arm. The girl must be out running the errands with her mother.
“I would, but I’m not sure which is mine.”
This time the mother speaks. “Why, the white one, miss.”
I glance at the wedding dress beside me. “But that’s a wedding gown.”
She chuckles just barely, a dry and polite sound. The villagers are used to me being clueless down here, though I think I’ve gotten better with time. “No, miss. It’s a royal mourning dress. Would you like me to bring it down for you?”
I can reach it just as well as she can—probably better, with fewer clothes in tow and no little girl by my legs—but I’ve at least learned to let the people serve me as their princess. I nod and take the dress when it floats toward me. “Thank you.”
I squeeze my way back toward the door as quickly as I can in the circumstances. A few more steps and I’m back in my room, slowly easing the door shut and listening to Louna’s breathing. She’s still asleep. I’m sure she’ll wake soon.
I set her dress on the vanity chair back. Sliding my jeans and sweatshirt off, I step into the white dress, feeling wrong and very bridal. I sit on my chair and stare into my reflection in the mirror. After several minutes, I realize my cheeks are wet with tears. I push away from the vanity table and grab my sweatshirt off the floor, wiping my face and eyes before my tears drip on my dress.
Adele always did my hair.
I force the thought from my mind and jerk open the vanity drawer holding my hairbrush. I snatch it and start attacking my long brown curls. Then I notice the bedsheets moving. I lay the brush back on the vanity tabletop.
“Hey, sweetheart. Good morning.” I sit on my side of the bed and try to smile. “Did you sleep well?”
Louna doesn’t respond, of course. I wonder if the villagers can see each other even when they’re invisible. Could Adele see Louna nod or shake her head to communicate? I keep talking. “I went and picked up our dresses at the shop. Do you like mine?” I slide back off the bed and turn around to let her see the gown, which I don’t think I’ll ever not call a wedding dress. “Here’s yours.” I pick it up off the back of the chair and hold it up. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”
Without responding, she pushes back the blankets and slides to the floor, then pads over and takes the dress. When she holds it and I let go, it begins to quickly fade from my sight. It occurs to me that clothing—especially situation-appropriate clothing—probably wouldn’t be necessary during the day if the villagers were invisible to each other.
While she changes, I turn back to my hairbrush. In the vanity drawer I find several pins and a comb, and I decide to just part my hair and pin back a bit from the front, like I did a lot of the time back home. Once I’ve finished, Louna takes my hand; I guide her to the vanity chair.
“Here, let me do your hair.” After digging through the other drawer and trying a few various pins, twists, and clips, I give up on fancy hairstyles I can’t see and simply braid it down her back. Hopefully it’s not falling apart or crooked.
“How’s that?” I slide my hand down her arm to take her hand and give it a slight squeeze. “Ready?”
She stands, and I open my closet doors to find shoes…which is when I realize I forgot to get any for Louna. “Oh, dear, I forgot shoes for you! Are the ones you wore yesterday still here?” She lets go of my hand to check. Once I’ve pulled on my own old-fashioned Renaissance flats, she returns and pulls me up and toward the door. “Well?”
We leave the room and she heads toward the clothing shop, pulling me along. “I guess that’s a no. I’m so sorry I forgot.”
Once Louna has a pair of shoes on, we leave the clothing store and head toward the church. I don’t say anything else; I don’t know what to say. Words weren’t any use at all the last time I attended a funeral…A pang shoots through my temples. I won’t think abo
ut that. This is Adele and Louna in an enchanted underground village. It’s not the same thing at all. And I won’t cry.
Eleven
I hope the church is full. I would think, with how sweet Adele was and how she knew everyone in the village, that it should be packed. But of course, I can’t see anyone, and the whole ordeal is too solemn for there to be much talking. The heat in the room and the shuffle of clothing gives me some assurance.
The pastor says his part, with Bible verses and condolences. Then it’s my turn. I squeeze Louna’s hand, which hasn’t let go since we first left my room, and head toward the pulpit. After a few shaky breaths, I begin.
“When you consider how long Adele and this village have been around, I didn’t know her long at all. But she was a wonderful friend, and we grew closer than I could ever have expected these past few weeks. I know that for you, the village will never be the same without her sweet voice. But for me, Adele…she goes beyond these dirt walls…” I break down, struggling and failing to catch my breath and slow my sobs. I want to step back, away from the pulpit, away from the people I feel watching me but can’t see. But I’m afraid if I let go of the wood in front of me I’ll collapse onto the floor.
My words don’t make any sense to me. I can’t think through what I’m saying. My breaths are sharp, jagged, loud. I know there are others crying, weeping quietly—they have been throughout the service. But my resolve has broken, and my dry, silent face is now a flood of rage and grief and pain…and anger. I am angry, angry at everything right now—at the griffin, at that witch or fairy or whatever it was that sent Adele here, at Shadow for never explaining anything to me, at Sophie for leaving Louna in my responsibility, at Adele for leaving me, at my dad for letting go of life and of my siblings and I, and at my mother for leaving us all.
My head pounds. I can’t take this anymore. I shove my body away from the pulpit and stumble around the coffin, where Adele’s still, pale, visible body lies with her closed eyes and brushed-out dead hair.
I run. I run as fast as I can, as far as I can. I’m going to run to my room, but that’s not enough for me. It’s stifling in there, with the fancy furniture and the vanity table and the hairbrush. Instead I turn just before my room and run, run, run down the tunnels to my left. I keep running, left and right and back again, until my footsteps echo on marble and I have to slow down to keep from slipping. I run until I collide with the huge wooden doors, a loud thud echoing around me and my breath tearing out of my chest in deep, stabbing gasps.
I stand for a minute, crouched over on my knees, just breathing. I am physically incapable of doing anything more. Soon I slide myself down onto the dirt, brushing away the thought of my lovely white dress. It’s insane to wear a wedding dress to a funeral. Royal mourning, my foot. I lay my head back against the dirt wall and close my eyes, letting the breathing take over my body. The pain still presses against my eyelids, but I’m breathing too hard to cry.
One of the wooden doors creaks open. I don’t open my eyes. “Beila?”
I don’t respond. There’s no point. It’s obviously me, here.
“Are you well?”
I nod. After a moment, I open my eyes.
His cloak hood hangs down behind his head, which surprises me. It’s nice to see his face. My breathing is still deep, but it’s slowed down and not as noisy anymore. I brush my hands against my face, which is sticky, hot, and swollen, but no longer wet.
Shadow shakes his sleeve up and offers his claw, which I take. He pulls me up. “Come in.”
Holding his talons is an odd sensation; I can’t help but notice the rough, cool sharpness. Still, I don’t let go, and he leads me into the room before pulling the door closed behind us. “What is the matter?”
He sits on the floor and I follow suit. “The funeral was today.”
He nods and waits for me to continue.
“I was supposed to speak.” Another nod. “I…I ran out. I just… I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it.” I force my breathing to remain deep and calm and even. I refuse to burst into tears twice in this short a time span.
“Are you better now?”
“Yes.” I drop my head and look into my lap, overflowing with dirt-stained lace. After the first few tears drip and muddle the stains, I give up and look up. “No,” I nearly whine.
The hand not holding mine comes up. His talon curls into itself to cover the claw, and Shadow strokes my cheek and brushes back my hair. It’s sweet and touching, clumsy as his talons are. I’m definitely crying now, although thankfully it’s not the ripping sobs and wails from back at the church.
“Can I help?”
His question surprises me. Of course not. I mean, not any more than he is now, sitting here with me and just listening, being here, comforting. But then a thought occurs to me. A thought I’ve been unsuccessfully repressing all morning. A throb echoes through my skull, but I ignore it. “There is something.”
“What?” He leans forward. The torches’ light reflect off his golden eyes. His entire face—his pale skin, his golden eyes, his tufts of golden hair and feathers—is bright against the dark red dirt and his black velvet cloak.
“I’m not sure it’s right to ask.”
He nods. “I may not be able to answer, but you can still ask all the same.”
I take a deep breath and wipe my face with my free hand. “I just…I’m not sure…I can’t…”
“Just say it.”
I force myself to meet his gaze. “I want to go home.”
His face falls. Immediately I wish I could take the words back. I still want to go home, but I don’t want Shadow to hurt. I don’t understand why, but I have hurt him with my one request.
I think he’s going to question me or say something cryptic or even send me back to my room, but he just looks away and nods. I reach over and touch his chin, bringing his face back up to look at me. The heat that blooms in me at our touch shocks me a little.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be sorry. You have the right to ask.” The pain written on his expression hurts me, touches something deep inside. Again, I wish I never said anything. I wonder if I should say so, try to undo this, but he clears his throat. “Will you do one thing first? For me? I swear I will let you return home, even if you say no. But…the entire village depends on you. Will you try just once…?”
“Try to what?”
“We need you to face the griffin.”
I lean back, putting a some distance between us. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing. Everything in me wants to refuse, to yell at Shadow for even suggesting it. An image of Adele lying still and bloody on her mattress enters my mind…and I shudder and jerk my neck to shake it away. But then a new image takes its place: Adele, real and alive and visible, surrounded by impoverished and cursed villagers wearing their ragged, dull clothes and grim, resigned expressions. Adele telling me that I must save the village.
There’s so much about this curse and me that no one will tell me. I’ve never known how to save the village. Now Shadow is telling me what to do. I don’t understand why, but I have to try.
I nod and open my eyes. “Yes.” It’s barely a whisper. I clear my throat and try again. “Yes, I’ll do it.”
Shadow squeezes my hands gently. The gratitude and hope filling his eyes almost makes my task feel worth the risk. “Thank you.”
He stands and helps me up. I return to my room. The funeral and burial will be over by now. Leaving my dirt-stained, tear-muddied lace heap on the floor, I dress in my jeans, t-shirt, and sweatshirt and climb into the bed. It’s too early for night, and I know I won’t be able to sleep. But a bed is still comforting, for now.
It’s going to be a long night.
Louna comes back in time for bed; I guess she stayed with Sophie after the funeral. She seems to sleep easily for a little girl who’s suffered so much. I wonder how normal this is. How many villagers did there used to be? Has the griffin really done
that much damage? The thought terrifies me.
I focus on watching the shadows dancing on the dirt ceiling. Several sleepless hours pass this way, just like last night. The screeching and roars echoing faintly outside haven’t bothered me in weeks, but tonight they seem louder than a screaming baby. Why did I agree to this? Shadow’s promise to send me home won’t be any good if I’m dead.
I can’t put off my promise forever. With a deep, shaky breath, I slide out of bed and pull my sneakers out of the closet.
I stand in front of my bedroom door for several minutes, trying to work up the tiniest scrap of courage. Finally I admit it’s a lost cause. With another deep breath and a quick turn of my door handle, I’m out in the dark, deserted halls.
The torches burn just enough for me to make out the tunnel walls. Not quite sure where the griffin lives or what to do next, I take the first turn to my right and listen carefully to the echoes. I pass one street, the garden, another street. I’m standing at the end of the path, with the choice to turn left toward more houses or right toward the castle. It’s clear now that the sounds of the griffin come from the right.
As I slowly walk down the path I ran through just this afternoon, I wonder how Adele or anyone else ever ended up near the creature. The only explanation I can come up with is one of different behavior patterns—perhaps the monster comes out some nights and stays back in the castle at others. Maybe it has something to do with its hunt, or the moon cycle, or even just something in the magic here. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter right now.
When I reach the castle, I stop just before the floor turns from dirt to marble. What if the griffin hears me coming? My heart races. My breathing is loud and uncontrollable. Terror and panic grip me. Adrenaline rushes through my body. Is this what professional daredevils seek out, this sensation? They’re nuts.
The griffin’s shrieks and growls alternate, shaking the ground I walk on. With that much noise, it must be huge! Slowly, carefully, I take one step at a time through the marble hall.
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