by Lea Doué
Sweat beaded above her lip.
This wasn’t going to work.
But it did. Satisfied that there was no danger, the guard moved on.
Breathing more heavily than she liked, Lily led the girls down the stairs, through hallways, and into the maze, avoiding three maids, one guard, and a courtier stumbling in late from the festival.
They made it as far as the rose-covered fountain. She stopped and wiped her sweaty hands on her dress. She dreaded the return trip but was thankful there would be one.
Melantha led with the candle, and Junia followed close to be near the light. Lily was content to let them go first. Even with a map, she wouldn’t have trusted herself to find the mirror right now.
Melantha found it easily, nestled among the firethorns, just as it had been yesterday—had it been only yesterday?—and plunged through the imaginary hedge.
Lily fixed her eyes on the yellow flame rather than the cold silver glow in the distance. How could she have mistaken that for moonlight? The hedge gave way to stone, and she counted the stairs again to take her mind off the way the grey walls absorbed the light, rather than reflected it. She’d missed the first fifty or so, so she started there.
By the time they reached the black forest, she’d lost count again. She let go of Junia’s hand, and the other girls broke into two’s and three’s, huddling close.
Melantha stepped off the path and held the candle up to a tree. “Look at this.” The ruby and emerald gashes threw back sharp rainbows, and the obsidian trunk shone with depths of purple, blue, deep gold, and blood red.
“It’s beautiful,” Hazel said. She had nothing in her collection to compare.
“If we’re done playing with shiny trees,” Mara said, “can we get this over with?”
Melantha blew out the candle, and they walked silently to the archway.
Prince Tharius waited on the other side, dressed as he had been the previous night, except he wore no gloves.
Foot poised to step through the arch, Lily remembered that she could speak. She turned to her sisters, mouth open, but had no words. Or, rather, she had so many built up that she couldn’t choose which ones to say.
“It’s okay,” Neylan said.
Lily took a deep breath. She would gather her thoughts and speak with the girls before the night ended. For now, she gathered her courage and hastened into the undergarden. Her new gown hissed as she spun to watch the girls’ transformations. Once through, they each wore unique dresses, different from the previous night, but the dark color scheme hadn’t changed.
The archway had encased her in a gown of shiny black leather, held up by a tight corset and golden straps. The weight of it pressed her feet uncomfortably into the ground.
Ivy came through last, hand-in-hand with Gwen. Lily gasped at Ivy’s dress and then glanced around, half hoping a shawl would appear out of nowhere.
A ripping sound, a shriek from Coral, and Hazel wrapped a length of delicate black lace around Ivy’s shoulders and across her front.
“Did you have to do that?” Coral shook out her gown as if she expected it to repair itself. She could easily spare more lace. Except for transparent sleeves, black lace draped the entire length of her. Even Coral might not realize how stunning she looked in such a dress with her hair flowing soft and loose. She was, by far, one of the most colorful things in the undergarden.
Prince Tharius’s courtiers noticed. They waited, eager to escort the girls onto the dance floor. He waved them over.
After getting Lily’s nod of approval, the girls let themselves be led away, and she followed with Prince Tharius. No detours tonight. They joined the others on the polished earth floor in a frenzied whirl of shadows and candlelight. The music played too fast and too loud, and Lily could only focus on his eyes. She wondered how they didn’t crash into the other couples. Two dances left her gasping in the tight gown. The music softened, and Prince Tharius led her off the floor. He had not said a word.
They walked to the bridge, and she sat stiffly, but gratefully, on the hard stone bench.
He joined her. “I am pleased to see you again.”
His voice—deep and dark, like his home—sent a chill up her spine. She couldn’t say the same, since it meant returning to this place, so she said nothing. She’d already gotten used to that.
He twisted a small ring on his finger.
“May I?” she said.
He did not remove the ring, and so she took the offered hand to get a closer look. His fingers twitched. Twelve stones, as black as the underground sky, were set in gold around an oblong piece of glass. Underneath, flaxen strands had been woven into a simple, tiny braid. More black stones spilled down the sides.
The hair was lighter than Hazel’s. “Your Mother’s?” If so, he must favor his father.
“Yes.”
“What was she like?”
“She was beautiful.” He adjusted the ring. “And kind.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Then you’re the only one, besides me.” He wound his fingers with hers and laid them on her knee. “They blame her, you know.” He tipped his chin towards the white-haired men on the dance floor. “The sorcerer wanted her. He cursed my father and grandfather, hoping she would leave them. She shouldn’t have died in the dark.”
“No one should.”
“No one?”
“Of course not.”
“Then, you have decided?” He leaned close, and the scent of oranges and jasmine wrapped around her.
“Decided?”
“To marry me. To release me from this curse.” When she didn’t answer right away, his voice rose. “To grant me freedom from the tyranny of a man I never met.”
She couldn’t say yes, but she feared what he might do if she said no. “Are you sure there’s no other way out?” He pulled his hands away, and she rushed on. “At least for me and my sisters. If we were free to speak to someone, we might be able to find help.”
“I told you already, my dear, you’re the only help I need.”
“But what about my sisters?”
“You’re avoiding my question.”
Of course she was.
“Or you’ve made up your mind to refuse me.” He stood. “You would trap me here, steal your sisters’ futures. You came to me in my despair, Lily. You are my hope. My light. The one I’ve been waiting for.” He lashed out at a bush, scattering leaves and twigs with a sweep of his arm. “This place killed my mother!” He stomped to the bridge and paced across its length.
Lily stayed on the bench, not trusting her legs to hold her, especially in the heavy leather gown. She gripped the edges of the rough stone on either side of her legs. Everything about this place was rough, or dark, or warped in some way. Even Prince Tharius. He was handsome. Alarmingly handsome, but there was a dangerous spark burning him from within. “Understand your enemies as well as you understand your friends,” Father once said. She wasn’t sure if Prince Tharius was her enemy or her friend, but she didn’t understand him.
“Lily, come dance with me!” Azure bounded up, covered from chin to wrist in deep, iridescent blue and in danger of losing half the peacock feathers on her skirt.
She stood, but hesitated.
Prince Tharius stopped pacing and stood with fists clenched at his sides. “Go then,” he said, and it sounded like a growl.
She went. “Azure, your gown is—”
“I know. It brings out my eyes.” Azure pulled her onto the floor and took the lead.
It had been too long since Lily had danced with her sisters. She wished the circumstances were different.
Azure lowered her voice, mimicking a previous partner. “‘I haven’t seen eyes so fair since our dear princess was alive.’”
Prince Tharius must have gotten all of his dark coloring from his father. She knew so little about him. If she wanted to understand him, she needed to find out more.
“Switch partners with me,” she said.
“What? Why?”
>
“I need to speak to some of his courtiers.”
“They’ll just compliment you until you want to stick a feather in their face.”
Ummm.
“It was an accident.” Azure plucked a feather from her gown and waved it. “Whoever makes these needs to take sewing lessons.”
“Just switch with me.”
“Looks like your fiancé has decided to join us.”
“He’s not my—” Oh, dear. He kind of was.
He and Hazel spun among the dancers, both real and shadow. While Coral added color to the undergarden, Hazel added light. Prince Tharius paid no heed to either. He watched only Lily.
Azure guided them near Mara and her partner, who eagerly took Lily into his arms. He said little, content to hold her too close and ogle. He stumbled a few times on her skirt, but he kept on, even when the music picked up speed.
“Your sisters are charming,” he said, wheezing. She could barely hear him over the invisible orchestra. “Good dancers.”
“Yes.” She’d better try to get something useful out of him before he fell outright or stepped on her feet. They were sore enough already. “His Highness is quite a good dancer, too. I suppose he learned from his mother.”
“Some.”
“It must have been difficult for her to raise a child in such an environment.”
“Didn’t do much raising. Dead and all that.” His foot caught in her skirt, but he hopped a little step and kept going.
“I saw his ring. He said she was very beautiful and kind, but I suppose he would think so.”
“She was beautiful. He’s much like her. Except his coloring.” He smirked, but quickly turned it into an over-polite baring of teeth and stopped dancing. He passed her off to Prince Tharius without uttering a word.
Prince Tharius studied her face as they danced, his thumb tracing across the leather at her waist. The music slowed, and he kept close as the girls drifted in and out of the shadows. She would have no chance to talk to them tonight. She had wasted her time with Azure, and she knew no more about the prince.
She lost count of the dances. If her feet could talk, they would tell her the exact number.
“You’ll want to leave soon.” His voice rumbled.
She said nothing.
“I hope you can overlook my outburst. I grow weary of my captivity.” He led her out of the candlelight and onto the path towards the archway.
In a few moments, the girls followed, but they kept their distance.
“I don’t know if you can understand what it’s like to have what I want so close and not be able to grasp it.”
She understood.
Prince Tharius took her hand off his arm and held it in his own, lacing their fingers together as they walked. It felt too intimate, and she wanted to pull away, but they had almost reached the broken gate.
“Don’t take too much time deciding you want what’s meant to be,” he said.
The girls passed them, wasting no time going through the archway. Prince Tharius let her go reluctantly, stretching his arm out to touch her as long as possible. When she reached the bend in the path, she looked back. He was gone.
She didn’t know much about sorcery, and she suspected he knew more than he let on, but she was determined to find a way out of this that didn’t require putting a sorcerer on the throne of Ituria.
Chapter Ten
The next morning, Lily donned the plainest dress she’d ever worn. Blue cotton, one layer, with wooden buttons up the front. She wore her own shift and boots and felt lighter and more comfortable than she had in weeks. She nibbled toast while Ruby braided her hair, but she refused the orange Coral offered.
“Here.” Gwen handed her a canvas satchel, grey with age. “Lunch.”
Lily adjusted the bag over her shoulder crosswise. Wren lifted the flap and tucked something in, and they descended to the sitting room.
“Take this.” Melantha passed over her belt and dagger.
“Why does she need that?” Hazel asked, picking up apple cores from their late-night snack. “Eben’s going with her.”
“In case she wants goose for lunch.” Melantha buckled the belt around Lily’s waist. “Can’t be too careful.”
It was for dragons, of course. They weren’t a particular threat around the city, but where helpless animals gathered, an isolated attack was always possible—not that a single dagger would help.
Neylan hugged her. “You can do this,” she whispered. She plucked a daisy from her hair and tucked it behind Lily’s ear before wandering out the door. Eben waited in the hallway.
Melantha brushed past her, shared a look with Eben that Lily couldn’t interpret, and then ran down the hall. “See you this evening!”
Eben met her gaze in silence. No greeting, no smile, but he looked a little less confused and hurt than he had yesterday. That was a good sign.
The kitchens provided the easiest route out of the palace. Few courtiers frequented that wing, and it was close to the guards’ gate. Some of the people they met offered hasty acknowledgments when they realized the plainly dressed girl was the crown princess, and some passed right by without a glance.
Runson appeared around a corner near the kitchens. She cringed. He was getting good at these accidental meetings.
“Lily!” He stopped short, his mouth hanging open.
Maybe some of the meetings really were accidental.
“What are you doing here?” He looked her up and down, frowning at her simple clothes. He wrinkled his nose at Eben, who was out of uniform but wearing a sword.
She didn’t answer, of course.
“On another date?”
“Her Highness’s business is her own.” Eben’s hands clenched at his sides, but his tone remained calm.
Her skin warmed. Eben rarely spoke to Runson, and never when on duty, although Runson didn’t know Eben was on duty at the moment.
Runson eyed Eben up and down, this time. He smirked. “No matter. I will see you later, Lily. I have—”
She walked away, not caring in the least what he had to say. He probably would see her later, but only because he wouldn’t keep his distance. She was thankful Eben had spoken up, another good sign that he wasn’t mad at her. Or maybe he was just doing his job. Could she ever be sure?
*
Lily and Eben wove through the streets of Eltekon, which celebrated under banners of emerald and clover, jade and pine, and all shades of green. Vendors opened their stalls, and Travelers rolled up the sides of their brightly-covered wagons in anticipation of the crowds. Already, the scent of lemon-poppy-seed rolls wafted on the breeze, and Lily’s mouth watered. She should be out here with Gwen or Neylan, sharing a bag of roasted almonds with cinnamon and buying silver hair combs they didn’t need. Last year, they had convinced Eben to join them on his day off. She still had the ring he’d given her, a piece of tin wire he’d found lying around and had wound and unwound around his finger all day. It was the only thing he’d ever given her, besides a book on her birthday each year.
He walked beside her now, strengthening her disguise. Strange, how she could hide among her own people simply by appearing in an unexpected way. The few guards they passed didn’t acknowledge Eben, and she was grateful. At the moment, she almost envied the soldiers and the citizens, wishing the choices she had to make were as normal as theirs.
The dirt road leading to the village bustled with revelers, but she couldn’t talk to anyone, couldn’t interact with them, or be a part of their lives, even for the few seconds it took to say hello. Already, she envied Prince Orin’s freedom. He would be eccentric, no doubt—a prince from a far-off kingdom tending geese for some other king.
By the time they reached the signpost for Three Mole Tree, the novelty of being anonymous had worn off, and Lily just felt lonely. She stopped and stared at the sign. She’d been to the village but had never had any reason to visit the goose sheds. Unsure which path to take, she shrugged, and a smile tugged at her mouth at the abs
urdity of the situation.
Eben responded with a small twitch of his lips. “This way.”
She resisted the urge to press her hands over her stomach, and instead forced them to swing comfortably at her sides. She wished she’d eaten either more, or nothing at all. Hopefully, this eccentric prince wouldn’t think her silence too odd. She could only imagine the tales he might tell the King of Gritton when he got home, and how it might reflect on Father. And herself.
A tall young man holding a white goose relaxed against the low wall surrounding the sheds. His trousers stopped inches above his ankles, his tunic sagged around his thin frame, and his straw-colored hair needed a wash. The bird’s keen eyes studied them, but it kept quiet. She didn’t know geese could be well-mannered, but she’d only met the ones who lived in the kitchen garden.
“Orin.” Eben nodded in greeting.
Oh. Apparently, princes could hide in plain sight, too.
“Eben.” The young man pushed off from the wall and placed the goose carefully on the ground. It plucked at the frayed hem of his tunic, grumbling in its throat.
Eben didn’t usually need to introduce her to people, but he spoke with confidence, as if he’d done it a hundred times. “May I present, Her Royal Highness Princess Lily, First Daughter and Crown Princess of Ituria.”
Orin approached with a smile, his teeth as white as his goose, and shook her offered hand, rather than kissing it or bowing over it. She liked him already. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.” He grabbed a bow and quiver from the wall, slung them over his back, and picked up his staff from the ground. Melantha needn’t have worried about dragons.
He picked up his goose last, and it quieted. “This one’s True. She’s got a bad foot, can’t walk all the way.” Whistling and waving the staff along the ground, he shooed the other geese out from the walled enclosure and led them down a narrow dirt lane. “It’s not far.”
They passed well-tended fields of lavender and an apple orchard. Orin waved to a goatherd grazing his animals at the side of the road. Farther on, they came across a scene much like her favorite tableau in the topiary garden. The shepherdess milked one of her sheep, while the black woolly who had adopted the flock perched on another, waiting eagerly for the treat, wings twitching. Lily inhaled the green scents and relaxed. She might get through this day okay, after all, and she might even figure out what to do about her impossible predicament.