Tasting Gretel

by Lidiya Foxglove

  The Revels were across the river. I could see the glow of lights, hear the music.

  From this perspective, they seemed like a theater, and I had been transformed from player to audience, no longer allowed backstage. Paths had always been tricky in this world, and the path had changed for me. I had to cross the river now, whereas once my path led me right to the dance. I should have known.

  I stripped off my clothes and bundled them, holding them on the top of my head so they would stay dry. It was a shallow enough river that I could keep my feet on the ground, but the currents were fast in places. I was breathing hard by the time I battled my way across, but I brushed off my exhaustion, drew my clothes back on, and forged onward.

  The music was louder now. I turned toward the forest rather than entering the Revels directly. I wanted simply to observe, not to be seen. I knew these woods as well as anyone in all the world, including every little spot for a rendezvous. It was easy for me to avoid the clearing where I heard a couple whispering to each other, and the tree where a man pinned a laughing faery lady against the bark. I made my way up to the highest point, where a gentle hill swelled up behind the musicians, and crouched beneath the brush.

  From here, I could see the entire dance laid out before me. The first thing I noticed were the long tables of food. The food was similar to what Gretel and I ate every day, but with much more variety. The Wicked Revels had several chefs. Vegetables, bread and meat were in abundance. Pears were stacked in towers. A roasted goose still had one half of its breast uncarved. The food was meant to last all night.

  The sweets were completely wiped out already. Some of the trays were even on the ground like the table had been violently ransacked. Yes, my magic was working on the people. They snapped up every last bit of sugar and spice, chocolate and cream. I could not help a surge of pride in that. I had been working alone, never getting to see for myself how my labors were appreciated.

  The dance was as frenzied and wild as ever. When I was the king, I never came up to the hill to watch. From this vantage point it was a kaleidoscope of twirling couples and swirling skirts and cloaks.

  The vision blurred for a moment and I saw the court of my homeland, like a faraway dream. My father and mother, aunts and uncles and distant cousins, all dressed in elaborate clothing, hair towered high into sculptures and hats sporting plumes and gold ornaments. Every step of the dance was prescribed. It was bad etiquette if one lady’s skirt brushed another. My father was the king, the shining sun. My mother was beside him. She was never permitted to wear the dress of Ellurine, but wore the foreign robes of the Queen Who Bowed, as all queens had since the first. My mother was certainly not the only one whose character was set for her. My uncle was given the role of the faithful servant to the crown, honored with the symbol of the stag, while my father’s cousin the Duchess of Arshain was the leading courtesan who didn’t have to pledge herself to a single man and wore the symbol of the many-colored bird. Each role was marked by its own costumes, colors, sigils and mannerisms. The other children and I used to watch them from a high balcony, forbidden from the evening balls until we were initiated into the dance.

  The Revels was the opposite of those balls of my memories. From the first moment I saw this dance, it was all I had ever wanted.

  In the Revels, you could be anyone you wanted to be. You could dance how you liked, and dress how you liked. You could be shy one day and bold the next.

  The music was loud, the drums pounding with the vigor of an impending battle while the fiddles danced with the joy of a holiday. Two fiddles now? There hadn’t been two fiddlers when I was the king. Will had added a few musicians.

  I had to admit, the music was good. Were the dancers as numerous? Did they have the same abandon and wild lust as they did before? They seemed to wear more clothes than they did before. Not a bare breast in sight. I scoffed. Modesty rules would be very human indeed. And it was strange to see the girls without masks. I knew that policy had to end, but it had added some mystery.

  Will was sitting on the royal dais in the throne that had once been mine. He stretched his bad leg and I narrowed my eyes. He probably doesn’t dance much. What a shame for the King of the Revels to be a cripple.

  Look at him there, just watching. Probably thinking of what else of mine he can change.

  I sought the queen next. She was dancing with their firstborn, a boy who was an eternal baby in my mind but was now doing a clumsy jig with his small hands caught in his mother’s. Children at the Revels? I looked around. I saw a few babes but none older. At least there didn't seem to be any children old enough to understand.

  Still.

  As one song ended, Will called out something, and everyone cheered. Queen Evaline shouted to him and the crowd laughed. The band kicked in with a new rhythm and Will sang in a voice as clear and perfect as any singer I’d ever engaged.

  I went to war a country boy and to my love I said goodbye

  I came back brave as any man but missing me an eye

  Yes, missing me an eye

  I went to war a strapping lad fat on pork and eggs

  I came back lean and sharp and strong but missing me a leg

  Yes, missing me a leg

  She said she’d love me evermore, dropped kisses on my scars

  My lady pledged her love to me beneath the moon and stars

  I went to war a hearty gent and said goodbye to Brigit

  Came back the hero of my realm but missing me a digit

  Yes, missing me a digit

  She looked me up, she looked me down, she asked me what I meant

  I said th’ shrapnel got the most of it and what is left is bent

  Yes, what is left is bent

  My love she backed away from me with tears across her face

  If I can’t fuck you now, she said, someone else can take your place

  The revelers were clapping and laughing heartily at this bawdy humor while Queen Evaline jumped up beside her husband, kissed his cheek, said, “In no way an accurate reflection, mind you!” to more laughter, and they danced a bit despite Will’s stiff leg to the instrumental break, the fiddles each taking a turn at ever faster reels.

  Humor? I picked up a pinecone and pitched it into the crowd before I hurried back down the slope. The Revels weren’t supposed to be funny. Leave it to a human to make a mockery of the whole thing, and what traitors they were to laugh!

  I heard him singing a ballad now in the distance, his voice undeniably pure. No matter how much I hated Will, I could not deny his talent. I could deny the merriment of the dance, the singing of those twin fiddles.

  As I crossed the river again, I realized how reckless I had been tonight. If I had been caught, I might have blown the whole plan to ambush the Samhain festivities and Gretel would be found out and sent away.

  I stormed home, my mind racing over what I had seen. Impostors taking over my Revels, changing everything without any regard for ritual. Humans. Humans who seemed stupidly in love, bringing their children to the dance. I had once held the Princess Evaline in my arms. She had almost been mine.

  What am I thinking? Jealous of Will for marrying Evaline? I never loved her.

  As I crossed the threshold, my temper rushed out of me. Everything here reminded me of my Gretel. Even when she was safe and sound, sleeping in her bed, I could feel her presence. I could see her moving from room to room, imagine her intense little face when she was working and her pleading eyes when I teased her.

  I climbed the stairs. Gretel slept in the moonlight, so exquisite that I could hardly breathe. Her hand was draped across the pillow and her fingers twitched like she was working on something, even in her dreams.

  I would never have been happy like this with Evaline. She was too timid. Too placid. Too much a princess.

  Gretel was always the one.

  It struck me not just how much I wanted to make her happy, but how happy we already were.

  When I thought of Will sitting on my throne, I wanted to stri
ke him.

  Those were my people who had been laughing along with him, as boisterous as ever. Some of them had turned against me to put Will on the throne in the first place. I had always struggled to believe it, but now I saw with my own eyes how the new king was accepted, whether I liked it or not. He looked strong while I was weak and forgotten. I would be dead right now if not for Aramy. He had brought me back to reclaim my throne, not to bake cakes, but I wondered what would happen when we ambushed the Revels.

  I cursed softly.

  Maybe Gretel was right. I wasn’t taking back the Revels to make us happy. I was doing it out of pride, just to prove that I could.

  Gretel rolled onto her back, giving me a dreamy smile. “Mmm…why are you awake?”

  “I went to the Revels tonight.”

  She sat up. “Why?”

  “No one saw me. I went to think.”

  “And did you think?”

  “Yes.”

  Her brow furrowed. “It sounds like you were up to some mischief. I thought you were forbidden from going there?”

  “I didn’t really…enter the Revels. I just watched from afar. Facing some of the darker places of my soul.” I unbuttoned my shirt.

  She lifted her hand to brush the fabric of my shirt, lightly, with her fingertips. She seemed only half aware of the waking world, and I cringed back, afraid she would burn my skin. But her hand dropped. “This is where you belong,” she said. “Here with me.”

  “I wish it were that simple.”

  “It is that simple,” she whispered. “You’re the one who’s too complicated.”

  I ran my hand through my hair. Her words came as if from a dream. And who had ever known me as well as this girl? Who had looked into my eyes again and again as we shared our deepest desire with each other? I even talked to her about Ellurine, and I never talked of home to anyone. I had a dread of becoming of my father, of having a wife like my mother.

  I didn’t want to be lord and master of my realm like Father was. I didn’t want a wife who submitted to me in all things. Gretel saw me better than I saw myself, and she told me so.

  She yawned. “I’m very tired, Magus.”

  “I gave you a bit of sleeping draught tonight. I knew that otherwise you’d feel me leaving the bed. I needed to do this alone.”

  “And what did you do? What did you see?” she asked. “Is it as bad as you thought?”

  I couldn’t quite bring myself to say the words. My people are happy with Will. And I am happy here with you. It was true, perhaps, but it was also poison on my tongue. King Will.

  I shook my head. It was too late to back out on my plan with Aramy. He had made a deal with the Trickster Mage, gathered my nephew and other faery clans to aid me in my claim to the throne. It would be selfish of me to change my mind. Even Marte didn’t want a human to be king. The Revels had been the domain of faeries as long as anyone could remember.

  “No matter what we become,” I told her, “we won’t forget our time here. We will continue to make things together. Beautiful things.”

  She let out the smallest sigh. I knew she was hoping for something else. I wished I could make her understand how things had to be. I couldn’t just surrender to the man who had driven a knife into me.

  I peeled back the covers and settled beside her, but sleep would not come. I watched her for a little while, and imagined what might happen if Will and his family were killed because of me. It would be the end of his song, the end of his young child, and my people would take sides even more than they already did.

  Aramy came by just before Samhain. “All is in place,” he said. “The Revelers will enter the human world after sunset to play their tricks on the human townsfolk, as they always do, and when they are vulnerable, we’ll strike.”

  On the night of Samhain, the veil between the human world and the Revels vanished. It was a long held tradition for the Revelers to venture out and pound on the doors of the local humans. If the humans offered food to the faeries, the Revelers gave them a blessing. If they were ignored, they would receive a small curse, hex, or act of petty vandalism. No one was ever hurt, but legend suggested that if we didn’t menace the humans, they would enter our world instead.

  “I am sure Will and Evaline have no idea what’s about to befall them,” Aramy said. “They’ll be weakened away from the forest. We’ll scatter them and force Will and Evaline to give the Revels back to you. They can stay in the human world, and we can go home.”

  “Whatever happens, they must leave safely. An assassination is not possible.”

  “Yes, yes, you told me last time,” Aramy said. “You are certainly concerned for their welfare, aren’t you? It’s that girl, isn’t it? She’s encouraging you to be gentle to fellow humans.”

  “You may have saved my life, but you still have no right to speak to me that way. All my life, I have wanted nothing more than to be King of the Revels. But last night, I snuck in to the forest and saw the people dancing to Will’s song. Trust me, if we kill that man, it will be far worse for us.”

  “He killed you.”

  “I am well aware. But I was under the addictive influence of magic and not quite myself. Perhaps I deserved it. Don’t get me wrong, Aramy. I want the throne back, but if you disobey my command, my first act as king will be holding your trial.”

  Aramy flushed with anger he couldn’t hide, but he held onto his composure and quickly bowed. “As you say, my lord. You know more about these matters than a humble baker. All I wish is for you and Gretel to be happy until the end of your days.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Gretel

  The day of Samhain was here. All the yearning that had consumed me for the past few months would be fulfilled, if all went well—but it would also be the day we left the bakery and the Magus became king again. As dusk fell, the Magus came downstairs in his costume. He was dressed in a black mask made with sharp, reptilian lines and small horns at the edges, like the face of a dragon, and he wore a cloak of fabric cut like wings that shimmered like dragon scales. His vest fit him closely and it was made of tiny leather scales.

  “You look very menacing, Sir Dragon,” I said. “And verrry handsome.”

  He tried not to look too pleased. “Take off your clothes, Gretel. All of them. Tonight, if all goes well, you will be mine.”

  I shivered with anticipation and a little bit of anxiety. “Do you have a costume for me?”

  “Put on the dress you have embroidered so beautifully with the horses on the skirt,” he said.

  I hesitated. If he wanted me to put on the dress first, that meant no blouse.

  “What’s stopping you?” he said.

  “I—I don’t want anyone to see my breasts,” I said. “Except you. I don’t like other people to look at me the way you do.”

  “A request I am happy to oblige,” he said. “No, that was never my plan. I never meant for anyone to see you. I like to have these sacred parts of you all to myself. But first things first.”

  By now I was so accustomed to constant stimulation and a feeling of fullness inside me that I felt empty, almost bereft, as I stripped off all my clothes. My pussy yearned to be touched and teased. But soon I would not have to wait any longer. I put on the dress and let him lace the bodice as he always did. I liked that I could feel his touch by the way the ribbons tugged around me, hugging my breasts and offering them up to him. I watched the serious set of his mouth as he tied the bow and I imagined him taking my nipples between his teeth.

  I chewed my lip furiously.

  “Here is your cloak, my Gretel, very modest as you can see.” He gave me a short hooded cloak that fell to my elbows. It went over my head and did conceal my breasts…but how easy it would be for his hand to find them. The little hood had a fringe of fur in back a little like a horse’s mane.

  “You get to be a dragon and I’m just a horse?” I asked.

  “No, you are a unicorn, my dear.” He gave me a pearl-edged white mask with a horn made of crystal t
o sprout from my forehead. “A much more appropriate pairing.”

  White stockings and little heeled black shoes completed the ensemble. Before we set out, we looked in the small mirror by the door and although I was not much for giggling, I may have let out some sort of embarrassing squeak of glee. He was all in black and adorably grumpy looking which I knew was covering up his nerves, while I was fair and more than a little bit aroused. By now, nothing needed to stimulate me for me to feel a thrill of anticipation.

  I was nervous, too, when I considered what this night meant. If we failed, the Magus would die. If he succeeded, I would be his queen. My mind could not fully accept either of these things. Somehow I felt that we would come home to this cottage, and I clung to that thought. It was better to enjoy the moment than worry about what the night would bring.

  We walked together down the path to the Revels, and at one point I almost forgot myself and grabbed his hand.

  I could hear the music from quite a distance. It rumbled under our feet. It was soon clear to me that the Wicked Revels had more musicians than I had ever heard, and certainly of more skill. My ears felt like they belonged to a wealthy woman; we never heard music of such quality in a poor town like Aupenburg. Up ahead, our path crossed another and I saw other faeries dancing along. The musicians were on the move with them in a procession, and everyone was dressed in costumes.