by Anna Sheehan
When Will knocked on the door of her mother’s chambers she heard her in heated discussion with someone with a kitchen accent. ‘Enter!’ Amaranth called as she continued her discussion.
‘I tell you, I bain’t stayin’ here one more night!’ said the current head chef. She had once been assistant to the third underchef, but the kitchen staff had been among the first to succumb. No one was sure why.
‘You may of course return to the city, if you refuse to work for us, and to forego your annuity once you retire,’ Amaranth said. The chef squeaked indignantly at that, as if the very idea hadn’t occurred to her. ‘However, you should know that the city itself is under quarantine.’
‘Quarantine!’ shouted the chef. That she should shout at the queen surprised Will, but she wasn’t trained as an upper servant, and everyone was tense and uneasy these days.
The queen was unperturbed. ‘Yes. We do not know exactly why or how this Sleep spreads, but it would seem prudent to prevent it from touching as much of the kingdom as possible. The walls of the city have been closed, and no one goes in or out.’ This wasn’t strictly speaking true. Will knew about the quarantine, and she also knew that those few Sleeping who succumbed from outside the walls were brought in, though their families were usually not permitted to leave again. If it wasn’t for the fact that the Sleeping needed no food, (at least the magic of the Sleep seemed to be the same as the old Sleep in that regard) there would have been starving people in Lyndaron this winter.
‘So even if I leave this cursed castle, I won’t be gettin’ away from this Sleep?’
‘I’m afraid not, Bethel,’ Amaranth said. ‘However, if the Sleep should take you in the streets of Lyndaron, you may leave a note on your person requesting that you be returned here, to be encouched in the West Wing with the rest of our staff.’
The chef squared her shoulders. ‘I’ll stay, Ma’am,’ she said. ‘But I bain’t be pretendin’ I likes it!’
‘As you will, Bethel,’ Amaranth said. ‘Your feelings are your own.’
As Bethel walked past Will she distinctly heard her mutter, ‘If we just cut out the source of this thing, we could all sleep in our beds without fear.’ She was looking right at Will as she said it. Will knew better than to say anything against the rumour. It would only make her appear more guilty.
Queen Amaranth held her hand to her head in weariness before she looked up at Will. ‘I sent for you four hours ago. Where have you been?’
‘I never received any message,’ Will said. ‘King Lesli thought he saw the messenger asleep an hour past.’
The queen groaned.
‘We just lost both the front entry guards, as well.’
Amaranth threw up her hands. ‘Of course!’
Will frowned. ‘Mother? Why do we not leave the palace? We could request that my marriage to Narvi be performed in Hiedelen. I’m certain King Lesli doesn’t mind where I marry.’
‘He is under quarantine as well,’ Amaranth said wearily. ‘He actually suggested it. He said he feared the Sleep would spread through his kingdom, should he leave.’
‘But this doesn’t seem to be like a plague,’ Will said. ‘You and I and Father haven’t succumbed. Ferdinand has never left Lavender’s side, and he’s still wide awake.’
‘We don’t know how this spreads,’ Amaranth said. ‘I’m taking no chances.’
‘But Mother … the thorns grew a foot last night.’
She looked up at her. ‘An entire foot.’
‘More, actually. The kitchen entrance has entirely closed over.’
‘Is the main entrance in any danger?’ the queen asked.
‘Not so far. But I’ve ordered the road sown with salt.’
‘Is that helping?’
‘It seems to be keeping the main entrance clear,’ Will said. ‘But if we didn’t have a crew of twenty on it every day, it would have closed up already.’
‘I’ll be sure that the clearing crew is assigned priority,’ Amaranth said, making a note on her chart. ‘We’re having trouble keeping up the staff. They fall asleep so fast, and replacements are getting hard to find.’
‘Hire more from the town.’
Amaranth shook her head. ‘They fear the castle. Which is madness. The Sleep hit the market area the hardest.’
‘You haven’t had any luck contacting Mistress Cait?’
She shook her head. ‘No. I spoke again to Junco Winnowinn.’ Junco had been by the day after Lavender fell to Sleep, but he hadn’t been much help.
‘The faerie? He was here? Why didn’t you summon me?’
‘I did. You did not come. There were quite a few things I needed to discuss with Junco Winnowinn, and it would have been better had you been here at the same time. As it is …. Well. Things are getting worse, Willow. The West Wing is full up,’ Amaranth said. ‘We have to abandon the commoners to tend to their own Sleeping. I’ve written down tending procedures to take into the town. Find the victim a warm, dry place, kept from possible rats or vermin, things like that. I’ll need to get it to a herald.’
‘The royal herald fell prey this morning,’ Will told her. ‘I can take it to his apprentice.’
Amaranth sighed, pulling the sheet of parchment from beneath a pile on her desk. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘And I must remember to tell every official to appoint a replacement should they succumb. Remind the apprentice herald to choose a new apprentice and to give him the minimum training immediately.’
‘Yes, Mother.’
Will took the sheet, believing that to be all, but Amaranth called her back. ‘Willow, there’s something else I needed to discuss with you.’
‘What?’
‘I need to tell you that as of this morning I have reinstated the laws against magic.’
Will didn’t understand what she was saying at first. ‘You’ve what?’
‘Reinstated the laws restricting magic,’ she said. ‘There is too much risk associated with such practices, given our circumstances.’
‘What do you mean, too much risk?’ Will asked, too flabbergasted to even be upset.
‘We don’t know what has caused this Sleep,’ Amaranth said, ‘we don’t know what is encouraging the thorns, and have no idea how other spells might interact with this ensorcelled affliction. As a result, at King Lesli’s suggestion, I have reinstated the Hiedelen ban on practising magic.’
‘But Mother … how will we solve this problem if not with magic?’
‘The faeries are, of course, permitted to continue with their practices,’ Amaranth said. ‘But for their own safety I’ve a note recommending that all of the Winnowinn clan remain in the north, for now, preferably in their own fastness. This way there will be no confusion.’
‘But Mother, this is madness!’
‘No,’ the Queen said. ‘This is politics.’ She studied Will’s expression. Will felt about ready to burst into flame, and she probably looked it. ‘As my daughter, and the current presumptive heir, you will be expected to obey these laws as well.’
‘But … what does Father say?’
‘It doesn’t matter. He is not the hereditary ruler of this kingdom. I am. But since you ask, as it happens, he does in fact agree with me.’
Will’s world was crumbling. Her only source of nourishment was now illegal? ‘Why have you done this?’ It came out as a whisper. Will had wanted it to come out a wail.
Amaranth was too harried to be too sympathetic, but her gift of Kindness shone in her face. ‘King Lesli pointed out the possible evils of permitting magic in this uncertain climate,’ she told Will. ‘The people of Lyndaron are already up in arms. They’re frightened, and they are frightened of magic. They’re not used to it. It was illegal for a hundred years. It has only been permitted for less than half a generation. As their queen, I need to reflect the will of the people.’
‘The people don’t know anything about magic,’ Will said. ‘They’ve never learned about it. They don’t know what it can or can’t do, they don’t know whether it’s
dangerous or not!’
‘They believe it to be dangerous,’ Amaranth said. ‘That is all that matters at this stage. If I do not respond to this, they may well retaliate against us in fear.’ She took a deep breath. ‘You realize if such a retaliation should occur, the one most likely to suffer would be yourself.’
Will blinked. ‘Myself.’
‘Surely you aren’t ignorant of the rumours about you.’ She picked up a sheet of paper. ‘I have received a report this very morning citing supposed proof of your black arts, the vindictiveness of your spirit, and how you instigated this sleep by feeding your sister the blood of murdered children.’
‘What?’ Amaranth showed Will the paper. It was barely legible, written in charcoal on brown parcel paper, with hardly a full sentence of complete grammar and more spelling errors than Will could count. ‘This is nonsense!’
‘Of course it is,’ Amaranth said. ‘But that didn’t stop this person from believing it true. If I can assure the people that my daughter has complied with the new regulations against magic, and that she is therefore a lawful and honourable person, it is possible that their distrust of you would thaw.’
‘So I have to abandon my magic,’ Will said. ‘Sell myself into marriage to Narvi. Curb my tongue. All for the sake of you and the people.’
‘You can spit in my face, Willow, if it makes you feel better,’ Amaranth said. ‘I will endure your hatred with dignity. But as far as the people are concerned, yes. You must obey.’
Will was half tempted to follow her advice and spit on her, but the idea made her feel childish. ‘Your will be done,’ she said with a curtsey, ‘Your Majesty.’
She turned to go. As she opened the door she heard Amaranth behind her. ‘I’m very proud of you, Willow. So very, very proud.’
Will was glad to hear it, but she’d rather have had her own life and none of her mother’s pride.
She passed the message off to the apprentice herald, and then headed down toward her chambers, pulling out her keys. She always locked her chamber door, ever since the first threat. She inserted the key into the lock and then backed away in horror.
Upon her door, scrawled in a red liquid she suspected was animal blood, was a new message. ‘Die in flayms Deman Wytch’. Will cried out and snatched her keys back. It was all too much. Between the threats and her marriage and this new injunction against magic, her supposedly strong will was crumbling. She screamed again, mostly in anger this time. She turned back her head and howled a scream of rage at the gilded palace ceiling.
‘Will! I’m coming!’ She turned her head. It was her father, pelting down the corridor with something glittering in his hand. ‘What is it?’ he panted when he caught up to her. ‘What’s happened?’
Will almost sobbed, and pointed silently at her door.
‘Oh,’ he said. He took the keys from her clenched hand. ‘Could one of you fetch some water and clean off this door?’ he called down the corridor.
Will turned. A half a dozen ladies were proceeding carefully down the hallway with something gauzy and beautiful between them. They looked at each other for a moment and then one of them peeled off, carefully handing her section of the gauzy thing to another. Ragi inserted the key into the door and pushed it open, pulling Will inside. ‘It’ll be all right, Will,’ he told her. ‘It means nothing, you know.’
Will was sobbing now, but it was half in laughter. This was all such madness! The fates were conspiring against her, and there was nothing she could do about it. Ragi led her inside and set her on the sofa. ‘Let me get you some water,’ he said. He filled a glass and pushed it into her hand. ‘I take it your mother told you?’
Will nodded.
‘Will ….’
He didn’t know what to say. ‘I’m well, Father,’ Will said. The handful of ladies came gingerly in after him, carrying the gauzy thing. ‘What is that?’ she asked, brushing the tears from her cheeks.
‘Nothing,’ Ragi said. ‘We’ll see to it later,’ he added to the ladies.
‘We haven’t any more time,’ one of them said.
‘That’s my wedding dress, yes?’ Will asked.
They nodded as one.
Will stood up and climbed onto a chair. ‘Thy will be done,’ she muttered to the fates, and let the ladies hang the gown upon her and fit it to her solid frame. The dress was of white and grey, to reflect the mourning the kingdom was in due to her sister. Her jewels were to be jet and deep burgundy rubies. Her veil was heavy, to cover her face completely. Narvi was to be entirely in black. Will wished they’d dress her in black, but white was required due to her virginal status.
A status which was likely to remain intact for some years yet after the marriage. Her arms ached and she was exhausted by the time the ladies were halfway finished with their final fitting. Ragi had waited, presumably to lend moral support, but Will rather wished he’d leave.
As they were fitting her one of the ladies considerately held up a mirror so that she could admire herself. Will’s reflection stared back at her with lifeless eyes. The figure in the mirror was massive and awkward, a giantess in a white dress. The grey trim was the same colour as her eyes, and washed them out of her face, turning them to mere shadows. The faces of the ladies reflected about her waist were tense and frustrated. They kept trying to tighten her thick waist, to match the current fashion of willowy and slender. Princess Willow, the furthest thing in the world from willowy and graceful. Why couldn’t they have named me Cabbage or Pumpkin? Something that is judged by how big and wide it can get. As she stood there the shock of Amaranth’s injunction began to wear off, and she began to feel more like a Thistle or a Nettle. Tighter and tighter they pulled on the stays until she grunted with pain.
She lost her temper with the whole situation. ‘Forget it!’ she said. She threw her arms down and started wrestling off the dress. ‘It fits as well as it fits. You’re never going to be able to make me a bride as beautiful as Lavender, so just give up! Dress me in a flour sack and tie a belt around it, I’ll look fine!’ She pulled the dress over her head, and she heard something tear. She didn’t care. She threw the dress at her father. ‘Or let me wear Father’s clothes!’ she shouted. ‘Give the dress to Narvi, he’d look prettier in it.’
Ragi gently handed the dress to the nearest seamstress. Will stood on the stool in her shift and glared at the figures in the room. ‘I’m marrying the boy, not being put up for sale. If he wants to marry me, he can marry me comfortable, not trussed up like a capon!’ She got down off the stool. ‘I’m done.’
‘I suggest finishing your fittings to the dummy,’ Ragi said quietly to the head seamstress.
‘But it’s not exact,’ the seamstress began.
‘It will suffice,’ Ragi said firmly. ‘Fit it loose.’
The seamstress took one more look at Will. Will’s face must have daunted any further protests, because the seamstress made a clucking noise to her ladies, rather like a mother hen, and like a hen with her chicks the seamstress and her ladies scuttled out of the room, Will’s wedding dress flapping like a hen’s wings.
‘Will,’ Ragi began.
‘I know, I know!’ she hissed.
‘Will … if you don’t want to marry ….’
She looked up at him. That was the last thing she’d expected her father to say. ‘Are you saying I have a choice?’
Ragi looked grave. ‘It is a difficult one … but yes. Neither I nor your mother will force you into anything.’
Will’s anger cooled, though her despair only surged stronger. Being offered the choice only let her see how firmly she was trapped. ‘I know what has to be done, Father,’ she said. She gazed at him. ‘When Lesli told you you had to brave the thorns … was there a choice?’
Ragi blinked. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I could brave the thorns and … basically let myself die, or I could watch my mother disgraced, our estate gutted, our name sullied. There was also a not very subtle threat about the future of ….’ He hesitated and then said frankly, ‘My si
sters would have been enslaved, as well.’
‘I didn’t know you had sisters.’
‘I don’t,’ Ragi said. ‘Not officially. Natiniel … my mother’s … friend … was forced to find a wife after I was born. It would have been suspicious, otherwise. I spent my summers at their farm off the mill.’
Ragi had never admitted that he was illegitimate before. Will was stunned. ‘So … you always knew ….’
‘That my life did not really belong to me. Yes. There are all kinds of choices. Of course you have a choice.’
Will shook her head. ‘You know full well I don’t.’
Ragi nodded. ‘I suppose you’d rather be alone,’ he said. ‘I’m very proud of you, my daughter.’
‘Stop saying that,’ Will said.
‘It’s true, all the same,’ he said. And he left.
He was wrong. Will didn’t want half a dozen ladies buzzing around her like stinging hornets trying to force her body into an impossible shape, but she didn’t want to be alone, either. Her many years of upcoming married bliss with Narvi at college would leave her ample time to be alone. She caught up her skirts and went to see the only other person in the castle whom she knew felt as bereft as she did.
Prince Ferdinand still sat at Lavender’s side, reading aloud from a book of poetry. Lavender was no longer in her chambers, but in the antechamber off the throne room. This was at King Ragi’s suggestion. He had spent nearly twenty hours wandering around the palace peering into this room and that before he’d finally found Amaranth in the highest room in the tallest tower. It may have been an excellent place for the evil faerie to hide the last spinning wheel in Lyndaria, but it was an abysmal place for a would-be rescuer to find and wake the princess. The courtroom antechamber was on the ground floor, and obvious. If someone, eventually, had to penetrate the palace and find the princess in order to end the Sleep, he wanted her somewhere easily found.
Will knew Ferdinand would be there. He barely slept. When he did, he slept on a cot by the fireplace, refusing to leave the antechamber where Lavender lay, twitching in her nightmares. When she cried out he would smooth her forehead and murmur to her. When she shivered he would wrap her in blankets. Will rather thought the shivering had more to do with the nightmares than cold, but she didn’t want to tell Ferdinand that. He was suffering enough. Let him think he could help even a little.