by Lea Doué
Not since the Dragon Wars had a sorcerer worn a crown. They couldn’t go back to those days.
In the commotion that followed, Prince Tharius was forced out of the gazebo and Lily’s feet got stepped on at least five times. Finally, she joined him and whistled long and loud.
The girls stilled. Not for the first time, she was glad Riva had taught them a great many things Mother didn’t approve of.
“Sit.” Mother had taught them how to give orders. At least Ivy was off the floor, cradled in Hazel’s lap.
Lily joined them in the gazebo, standing as Prince Tharius had, against one of the pillars, more for support than as a casual pose. “I have no intention of marrying anyone without Father’s approval.”
The girls hummed murmurs of relief and agreement.
Prince Tharius cleared his throat, staying outside the gazebo, so that Lily had to turn around.
“Yes?”
“Before you formulate a speech for your father, I’m afraid I must remind you again of the sorcerer’s deviousness.” He spoke softly.
She waited for him to continue, tired of feeling stupid regarding this sorcery.
“I am not strong enough to overcome his curse. Some semblance of freedom is possible for you. Perhaps, someday, you will offer more to me. For now, all I ask in return is that you dance with me, talk with me, let me feel human for a few hours each night.”
His eyes were so dark. Truly black, not like Runson’s deep blue.
Or Eben’s brown. Had Eben found the mirror, yet?
“I’m afraid your freedom will be a silent one,” Prince Tharius said.
Silent? Oh. Heat drained from her face and everywhere else. How could anything hold heat in this place? She leaned harder against the pillar, until Gwen came and put an arm around her.
“Speak plainly, please, sir,” Gwen said. “You may be unaccustomed to company, but we are unaccustomed to sorcery and illusions. We are all out of our element here.”
Prince Tharius flinched at Gwen’s bluntness. “Forgive me. I am . . . unaccustomed to company, as you say. I will be as clear as I can.” He stepped up next to the pillar opposite Lily and addressed all of them. “During your hours above ground, you cannot speak of anything below. And you cannot speak of the curse, at all, even here. Nothing.”
That’s what Lily had thought.
“And you, Your Highness, because you are the one most closely linked to my own curse, the one who holds the key to my freedom as well as your own, you should not speak at all.”
That’s what she’d thought, too. She wouldn’t be able to speak to Father, to brainstorm ideas with Eben, to seek help from Yarrow. She was on her own. She sagged, and Gwen guided her to the bench, where she dropped down next to Hazel. Ivy squeezed her hand hard. Lily hung on tightly, the little fingers grounding her to what mattered most in all of this.
Melantha took a breath to speak, a challenging gleam in her eye.
Prince Tharius addressed her first. “No words at all.”
Melantha slumped on the bench and crossed her arms.
“What if we forget?” Azure asked.
Prince Tharius tapped his throat. “Your pendants will remind you. But, your sister carries the heavier burden.”
She didn’t want to ask.
Azure did. “How?”
“The rest of you cannot speak of the undergarden, but your sister should not.”
Gwen cleared her throat and glared pointedly at him.
“Yes. More plainly.” He addressed Lily. “You hold the power to end this curse. Say you will marry me, anywhere at any time, and it ends. Say anything else, and my help is nullified. You and your sisters must return to me, and stay until you choose the right words.”
“This is rot!” Melantha jumped up. “How do we know anything you’re saying is true? This place is full of illusions and lies. You could be the biggest one of all.”
“Mel,” Lily said, her tone a warning. They didn’t need to anger a sorcerer. The man had just spun silver and diamonds from spiderwebs and dew, and he conjured eleven more from nothing. If he considered that to be power of no consequence, she feared the power that had placed the curse on him, that she had exposed the girls to. That he could go up against such power at all frightened her. She couldn’t let a sorcerer onto the throne of Ituria, even one such as Prince Tharius.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I have never known a life without sorcery. This must seem as strange to you as the sun and moon would be to me.”
“I want to go home,” Ivy whispered.
Lily squeezed her hand.
“One more dance,” Prince Tharius said.
She stood, holding onto Ivy. “I want to get my sisters home.”
“Perhaps you would prefer a stroll through the gardens, or a tour of the castle.” He gestured to the icy black structure just visible through a cluster of laurels.
“You don’t want us to go,” Melantha said. “If we’re free, then what’s stopping us from walking out of here right now?”
“Of course I don’t want you to go. I’ve been trapped here all my life with my father’s aging followers and imaginary people who look right through me.” His voice grew louder. “Do you think I’m looking forward to seeing all of you disappear through the archway that I cannot pass? I could have kept you here with me, forced your sister’s hand, and marched out of this dungeon tonight.”
Melantha huffed. She’d seen the pendant appear around her neck, but she still didn’t respect the power behind it. “Then why didn’t you?”
“My reasons are my own.” He held out his arm to Lily. “The pendants will allow you to leave when your time here is up.”
Lily let him guide her to the dance floor. “One more dance.”
Except for Hazel and Ivy, the other girls joined them, the candles blazing like the noon sun after the dimness of the gazebo. Despite his plea for conversation, Prince Tharius contented himself with studying her face and toying with her loose hair. Weary, footsore and heartsick, she made no attempt to draw him out.
The dance ended, and he led them on a gently curving path back to the archway. Standing on the cool stones with Prince Tharius by her side, she watched the girls’ gowns transform back into their own clothes.
“You will be careful not to let anyone else become entangled in this curse, will you not? Keep them safe from this place.”
“Of course.”
“You will return tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
“The time doesn’t matter, as long as it’s before midnight.”
“Okay.”
He kissed her fingers and let her go.
She joined her sisters. Several bounced on their feet and tugged at her in their eagerness to get home. She studied the archway and the prince on the other side. “How will we get back without causing suspicion?” she wondered aloud.
Prince Tharius grinned. “I suggest you to return the way you came.” He turned and disappeared into the gloom.
That didn’t help.
Chapter Seven
Lily and the girls trudged up the stairs behind Melantha, holding hands again, an illusion of safety in the gloom. She was grateful for the time it took to reach the maze. Time to adjust to the silence.
The mirror had vanished, along with the moon, when they emerged into the clear air, but this darkness was not oppressive. After the muted and distorted colors below ground, the palace gardens gleamed in the starlight. The girls separated into twos and threes, hurrying along the lamp-lit paths. On such a fair night, there might be a few people lingering in the intimacy of the shadows.
Rustling sounded moments before a guard appeared around a hedge. Riva.
“I’ve found them!”
Two more guards joined her.
“Ladies,” she said with a pointed look. “We’re to escort you to the king’s study.”
Of course they were. This wasn’t going to be easy, no matter what. Lily wished she’d had time to think of a plan. And then what?
She had no way to tell the girls if she came up with any ideas. Which she hadn’t.
Another guard rounded the corner. Eben. He sagged in relief and counted the girls visually before locking his eyes on her.
Lily squeezed Gwen’s arm.
“Riva,” Gwen said. “Please inform Mother that we’re headed to our room. I’m sure whatever it is can wait until morning.”
“With respect,” Riva said, arms folded now, “It’s near midnight, which is near morning, and Her Majesty sent for you two hours ago.”
They’d been gone that long?
Lily squared her shoulders and led the girls past Riva and the guards.
Eben rubbed his jaw, his brows drawn low. He had good reason to be confused. She and the girls had never gone missing, not all at once. She ran her fingers along the back of her neck, the sting from the chain almost gone. If only she could make everything else disappear so easily.
The guards fell into step behind them. She saw no one else on the way.
Mother greeted them with silence, her back straight as she watched the sleeping city. After a few minutes of silence, she turned puffy eyes on her daughters. Lily tugged at her pendant, regretting her words from earlier. She wished she could apologize right now.
Mother spoke to Lily in a flat tone. “Would you care to explain yourself?”
The girls answered for her immediately.
“We were taking a walk.”
“Exploring the gardens.”
“Lord Runson wouldn’t leave Lily alone,” Ruby elaborated, “so, we hid from him in the maze.”
Mother studied each girl’s face in turn, searching for lies in their words. She wouldn’t find any. They’d told the truth, even if they had omitted part of the story.
Mother approached as far as Father’s desk, searching for truth in their appearance. Lily’s hair tumbled in a knotted mess down her back, and Neylan had flowers from the undergarden tucked into her braids—the feather had disappeared. Nothing outlandish, but a sign of some sort of adventure.
Surprisingly, Mother made no comment about the most obvious evidence: tattered slippers peeking from beneath their dresses.
“Lord Runson approached me over two hours ago.” She addressed Lily. “He was concerned that you didn’t meet him in the gardens after supper as you had planned.”
Lily huffed loudly. Runson had a lot of nerve to lie to his queen.
“Meet him!” Melantha scoffed. “Why would she do that?”
Coral choked back a laugh.
Mother frowned and rubbed her temples. “You did not arrange to meet Lord Runson in the gardens?”
Lily shook her head, and tears stung her eyes. All she wanted right now was her bed, with Gwen curled up in a ball at her back. Ivy’s small hand slid into hers.
“Then, where have you been?”
She shrugged.
Mother closed her eyes, a sign she was near the end of her patience.
“It’s been a long day,” Gwen said. “We’re tired. Please, may we talk more tomorrow?”
Mother didn’t answer right away, no doubt drawing conclusions about their evasiveness. When she opened her eyes, she pinned Lily with her gaze. “You have acted selfishly today instead of facing Lord Runson and telling him plainly how you feel.”
Lily studied the carpet. Black-and-gold wool from Sotan pillowed her poor feet. Father had good taste in carpets. And Mother was right. She didn’t want to face Runson.
“Convincing your sisters to join in on your game is childish. If you have issues with me, with Lord Runson, or with anyone else, your father and I expect you to face them head on.”
If only she could.
“And what are these necklaces you’re all wearing? You didn’t have them at supper.”
The girls exchanged sideways glances until Coral spoke up. “They’re from an admirer.”
“An admirer.” Gifts from admirers always peaked Mother’s interest. “Who?”
Coral shrugged, as if she didn’t know. “We can’t say. They’re pretty, and it’s nice to have something matching.” She fingered the glittering jewel and tried to get a glimpse of it as Melantha had earlier, but she had no luck. She dropped it, shrugged again, and smiled.
Mother looked disappointed, but let it go and addressed Lily one last time. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
Lily shook her head. Whatever she did now, Mother would consider it disrespectful.
“Mother,” Junia spoke up. “Lily had a fall in the maze.”
Mother’s gaze sharpened. “I thought as much this afternoon. Have you seen a healer?”
If Mother would stop addressing her, this would be easier. How could she keep silent if people kept talking to her?
“No need for that,” Junia said. “I’ll give her some powders in our room.”
Mother looked like she could use some powders, too. “Goodnight, then. I expect you to be on your best behavior tomorrow.” She held out the bowl of peppermints. “And stay away from the maze, until further notice.”
The girls accepted the offering, exiting in a chorus of, “Yes, Mother,” and “Goodnight, Mother.” Lily took a peppermint, wishing she could erase Mother’s sadness and take back her unkind words from earlier.
Eben waited in the hall, a dozen questions in his eyes. She didn’t strictly need an escort with the girls present, but he fell into step with her and Gwen as they set a brisk pace to the safety of their tower.
“What happened back there?”
She tried and failed to keep her eyes straight ahead. Her shoulders drooped. How could she do this? She didn’t want to hurt him, and he was the last person she wanted to push away.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded and put her hand to her head, hoping he would understand that she had a headache.
His brows drew down, and his jaw tensed.
She took a deep breath and let it out, avoiding his gaze. Slowing, she let the girls catch up with her. They enveloped her in their midst and swept her down the hall.
Eben’s step faltered. He glanced at her over Wren’s small shoulders, turned, and walked away. His back was straight, his stride purposeful. A royal guard. A confused friend.
*
Lily awoke to walls blushed in the morning sun. How dare they look so cheerful. Azure sat on the floor, unlacing her boots after her run at the training field. Lily kicked Gwen awake, payback for last night, and made her way to their ground-floor bathing room.
She counted the stairs on the climb back. Twenty-five to the sitting room. Twenty-three to the bedroom. Far fewer than in the tunnel. She crossed into the dressing room, the other half of the top floor. Three wardrobes along the dividing wall, three dressing tables against curved stone, three benches scattered across the floor. Even three windows.
The middle offered the best view of the gardens in the distance and the green lawn down below. So far down. Melantha had dropped a bucket of water on Eben once from the window, but he’d dodged it easily. Prince Tharius’s realm was buried even farther down under the ground.
“Breakfast.” Junia brought in a tray laden with pastries and fruit, followed by Coral carrying tea. The other girls trickled into the room.
“Food in the dressing room?” Hazel shook out her gown from yesterday. The maids hadn’t needed to tidy it up.
“We don’t want to keep Mother waiting.” Azure bit into a flaky, cherry pastry, making a show of scattering crumbs generously on her dressing gown.
Mara dusted her off. “Don’t be a slob.”
Azure grinned, cherry staining her teeth, and skipped around the room.
Lily sat on one of the padded benches and motioned Mara over to do her hair. Ivy sat next to her and took her hand.
“Something simple, I think.” Mara grabbed a brush and worked at the tangles.
Elaborate styles never stayed put in her fine hair, especially when she ran around in mazes and danced in underground kingdoms with intriguing sorcerer-princes.
&n
bsp; The other girls crowded around two of the three dressing tables positioned between the windows, accustomed to making do with their limited furniture. Except for Azure, who continued to skip, and Melantha, who lay across Lily’s feet studying her map of the Weaver’s Maze. Lily found their nearness comforting, and she suspected the other girls felt the same way.
Gwen cleared her throat, interrupting the girls’ quiet chatter. “We need to discuss . . . things.”
“How?” Wren asked. “We’re not supposed to talk about . . . things.”
“We can figure out what to do with Lily.”
Hazel finished a complicated twist in her own hair and turned around. “What to do with her?”
“She needs to get out of the castle.”
“No, she needs to stay in our rooms,” Hazel said.
“She’s not sick. Mother would get suspicious.”
Melantha snorted, and Gwen glared in her direction, unable to see her past the girls on the bench.
“The fewer people she’s around, the better,” Gwen said, and most of the girls muttered their support.
Lily nodded, and the brush snagged, earning her a tap on the head from Mara.
“It should be a long-term plan.” Neylan sat at the edge of the bench working on Ivy’s hair. “We don’t know how long it will take to break the—” She coughed. The room stilled as she took a breath and finished her thought slowly, testing each word. “—you . . . know . . . what.”
No one spoke for two minutes, at least, after this small show of the pendants’ power.
Coral finally asked, “What do you mean break it? Lily would have to—”
Neylan interrupted before Coral said something she shouldn’t. “Mother would never allow any of us to marry a sorcerer, even if he had ten brothers. And neither would Father.”
Lily wouldn’t allow it, either.
“That’s what I was going to say,” Coral said with a huff. “We’re stuck.”
“Not necessarily.” Neylan said. Thankfully, she didn’t have Prince Tharius’s flair for dramatic pauses. “These things are tricky, but there’s always a way out. I’ve just never heard of getting tangled up in someone else’s . . . you know.”
Prince Tharius’s curse. What did Neylan, or any of them, know of curses?