Sleeping Beauty's Daughters
Page 12
“Is that Mama?” I whispered.
Emmeline looked up, and her face fell. “Oh, darling, I’m sorry!” she exclaimed. “I’d quite forgotten that was here. I just . . . well, I like to remember my favorite people and stories, and I . . . shall I move the bath? Or remove the painting?”
Luna stared at the ceiling. “Remove the painting?” she repeated. “Wouldn’t that be a lot of work?”
“It’s beautiful,” I said. “But she looks like Luna, not like me.” I had to turn my eyes away, for suddenly I missed Mama—and Papa too, and Castle Armelle—with an almost painful longing.
“She had your lovely hair when she was young,” Emmeline said, “but she had Luna’s smile, and Luna’s fearless spirit.”
“Our mother?” I said, disbelieving. I thought of Mama’s delicacy, her pale face, her fainting spells. Luna’s spirit?
“Ah, that was long, long ago,” Emmeline said. “Before her troubles began.”
The door to the room opened then, and—I don’t know how else to describe it—a jug full of steaming water came in. No one carried it; it seemed to float in midair all on its own. It emptied itself into the tub as Luna and I watched, openmouthed. Behind it came another jug, and another and another, and they poured themselves until the tub was full.
Emmeline laughed at our expressions. “It is much harder to produce the actual servants,” she said. “All I really need is the service, which I can create easily. So my servants do not truly exist, but their work gets done.”
In the warm bath, Sleep again threatened to overwhelm me, and I pinched the inside of my arm hard to rouse myself. The tub was big enough for us both, and Luna washed my hair and I scrubbed her short curls as Emmeline explained how she knew Prince Leander. Some of what she told us echoed what we’d learned from Mama and Papa, but some of it was new.
“We met at your mother’s christening,” she said. “But Manon believed he was hers.”
I remembered Mama describing this. “She was in love with him.”
“Desperately,” Emmeline said. “She loved him, and she wanted to be his forever.”
“But she’s horrible!” Luna said. “Of course he could never love her.”
“Manon is younger than I, you know,” Emmeline pointed out. “She was not so horrible then. In fact, she was quite beautiful—though it was a beauty with a dangerous edge. She and Leander had known each other for quite a while. They had spent some time together, and she had convinced herself that her feelings for him were returned. But then he saw me, and I saw him. . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“And then?” Luna prompted.
“Manon could not contain her fury. I believe she went a little mad. She pronounced her curse on your mother, and I modified it, to the best of my ability. And then we fled, Leander and I.
“He took me away, and we spent some time on a lovely tropical isle before Manon discovered us. She imprisoned him and kept him captive for years.”
I thought of the story Symon had told about the lutin trapped in a cave. So it was true, and it had been my uncle! How would such a fate change a man? I wondered. To be alone so long, to lose one’s family . . .
Emmeline went on. “I looked everywhere, followed every hint or rumor I heard. Then when I came to him at last, I could not set him free—I did not have the power. But I learned that I could turn him into a lutin and give him the power to free himself.
“Finally we found this little sandbar in the sea. It has been our hiding place. I made it as much like that other isle as I could—the plants, the birds, the warmth. Ah, but I loved it there!”
Her face was open and dreamy, and it was clear that what she really loved in those memories was Leander.
“Now,” Emmeline said as we dried ourselves with towels that floated across the room to us, “what would you like to wear? Luna, do you want leggings and a tunic or a dress?”
“I suppose I could wear a dress,” Luna mused, to my surprise. “Do you have one that’s green? Leaf green?”
“No peacock blue?” I teased, and she made a face at me and then laughed.
“I think we can manage leaf green,” Emmeline assured her. “And for you, Aurora—lilac, I think.” She threw open the doors of a large wardrobe that stood against the wall and pulled out two dresses, flowing gowns with simple lines. There were no tight bodices to pinch us, no ruffles, no heavy embroidery or jewels. They were like wearing air, as unlike the dresses we wore at home as could be, and they fit us perfectly. Emmeline placed a circlet of emeralds around Luna’s curls and one of amethysts on my head, and gave us soft slippers dyed to match.
“Now you look like princesses again!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands with pleasure.
“But there’s no mirror,” I complained.
“No, I do not keep mirrors,” Emmeline said. “A mirror would reflect me as I truly am—wrinkles, warts, and all. I much prefer the image you see.” It was impossible to imagine a version of Emmeline that was old and wrinkled and warty, as beautiful as she seemed.
We went down to dinner, descending the stairs to the admiring gazes of Prince Leander and Symon, who waited for us below. Symon too was clean and well-dressed in clothes that looked elegant but comfortable. He was very handsome with his hair brushed and his face washed; very handsome indeed.
When Prince Leander raised my hand and kissed it, I curtsied, but I had to hold back a smile at Symon’s red-faced stammer and awkward bow as he approached me.
“I’m just your deckhand, the same as ever,” I whispered. Startled, he laughed and looked himself again.
We sat at a long table inlaid with a mosaic of shells. Above us, in the flickering candlelight from a pink coral chandelier, a ceiling fresco showed ancient gods and goddesses feasting. Our dinner came to us as our bathwater had: first the soup tureen appeared, then a platter of meats, and finally a sweet, all moving to the table as if carried by invisible hands. We served ourselves, for as Emmeline explained, “The dishes are only aloft because I concentrate on them. If I took my attention from the bowl for even an instant, the soup would be in your lap!”
The meal was delicious and merry, though waves of drowsiness hit me between each course. The very last of the devil’s shrub had worn off completely. I knew I couldn’t stay awake much longer. I tried to memorize everything: the taste of the food, the feel of the soft fabric of my dress, my sister’s dear face. I didn’t want to lose it all, and I fought as hard as I could. I wet my napkin with water and dabbed my face; I pinched my arms and legs. Luna saw my distress and kicked me gently under the table now and then, rousing me. Her expression was troubled, and I was grateful for her concern.
When the table had cleared itself, Emmeline and Leander left us to walk briefly in the garden. “We shan’t be gone long,” my great-great-great-godmother said. “I want to practice my spells one last time.” One last time. The words made me shiver.
Luna noticed and said, “Sister, it’s better that we face Manon than that we keep running from her.”
“Is it?” I asked hopelessly.
“I think so.” She sounded very unhappy, and I reached out and hugged her. She clung to me.
“Yes, you’re right,” I said. “I’m almost as tired of being afraid as I am just plain tired.”
Luna let me go then and staggered upstairs to sleep, her first real chance at rest in days. Symon, however, refused to leave me. “I’ll stay awake with you,” he insisted.
I looked at him and saw the blue shadows under his eyes. “You must rest,” I told him. “You may need your strength later. I’ll be all right. I don’t think lutins and fairies sleep—I’ll go out to the garden with them.”
He hesitated, but then he gave such an enormous yawn that he had to laugh and agree. Lingering for a few minutes, he asked, “Your godmother and your uncle—they’re a strange couple, aren’t they?”
“Actually, I think they’re very well-suited. They are both—well, both a little . . .” I trailed off, not sure what I meant. Odd? Rem
arkable?
“Aye, I see what you mean,” Symon said, grinning. “They are well-matched. As you and I are, don’t you think?”
I thought he was teasing, but I wasn’t certain. “We’re far too young to think of such things,” I said hesitantly. “Besides, I am a princess, and you are . . .”
“A smelly fisherman?” he finished for me, raising an eyebrow.
“No, no! That wasn’t what I meant at all!” I exclaimed. I thought of all that Symon had done with us and for us over the past days. “You’ve been so brave—so wonderful. We would never have gotten this far without you. I’m so very grateful. . . .”
“It’s been an adventure,” Symon allowed. “And I’m grateful too.”
“For what?” I was baffled. “Your boat is destroyed, and we’re stuck here on an island with no way to return. And even if we do find our way back—”
“I’m grateful you gave me the chance to go,” Symon said seriously. “My whole life was just fishing before—trying to catch enough to get through each winter, so that the next summer I could catch enough again. I love the sea, and now that I’ve seen beyond Vittray and my little strand, I want to see more. Oh, Aurora, I want to see everything!” He grasped my hand in his excitement at the thought.
“I hope you will,” I said softly. “I hope we get back.”
“We will,” he said with great confidence. “And when we do, I plan to visit you sometimes, though you are a princess, and I just a fisherman.”
My face grew warm. “If Papa allows it,” I said.
“Well,” Symon said, “you could tell him to allow it. You will be queen someday, after all.”
I was starting to feel quite flustered. “What I meant was, Papa probably has some prince or other in mind to court me.”
“I don’t recall mentioning courting you,” Symon said with a wicked smile. “And I may never be a prince, but I don’t think I will always be a fisherman.”
By now I was completely confounded. Before I could stop myself, I spoke, so rudely that I was shocked at my own words. “No? Have you plans to go into business and raise a great fortune and acquire a title and come calling on me when we are both grown?”
He was not the least bit insulted, but only laughed. “That’s a very interesting idea,” he remarked, moving closer to me. He bent his head, and without thinking I raised my face, and he kissed me. His lips were soft and sweet. Their touch made me dizzy with happiness.
He went off to bed then with many backward glances, and I watched him go, feeling the heat in my cheeks and the pounding of my heart. The memory of that kiss would help keep me awake for hours, I was sure.
As the moon rose I wandered through the grounds, looking for Emmeline and Prince Leander. Strange and exotic plants surrounded a pool at the very center of the garden, and I drew closer to splash some water on my face and rouse myself. I sat on the edge and looked in. My own reflection looked back, a pale girl with a dreamy smile and tired, dark-circled eyes.
Then, oddly, as I stared into the pool, I began to see other places in the water. I could make out the beach where we had met Emmeline, and the hallway of her house. I saw Emmeline herself walking in the meadow under the moonlight, hand in hand with Prince Leander as they talked intently. So this was how she had watched us, as we sailed over the seas in search of her!
The visions faded, and I saw my reflection again. But as I looked, my face in the water seemed to change. My mirrored eyes closed, though my real eyes were still open. And then I saw Luna in the reflection and spun around to see if she was behind me. She was not. I turned back. In the pool’s image she stood in a room I didn’t recognize. Her face appeared older and sadder, and I saw that she held a babe in her arms. As I watched, the babe lengthened and grew, and then it stood by her side and she held a second child.
I saw my parents in another room, the conservatory of our castle. Their forlorn faces changed and aged under my gaze, wrinkles and creases appearing and spreading. At last their own eyes closed, and their cheeks grew as pale as marble. I realized I was looking at their deaths. The reflected Luna aged too as I watched. Her eyes closed and her skin took on the translucence of death. I felt hot tears on my cheeks. It was heartbreaking, and I pulled away, crying, “No!”
“Aurora!” I heard Emmeline call as she ran toward me. “Do not look in the pool!” But it was too late.
I stood, trembling and weeping, and my godmother took me in her arms, stroking my hair. “They are all dead!” I sobbed.
“No, no,” Emmeline murmured. “When the pool shows the future, it only reveals what might happen, not what will happen.”
“But . . . what was I seeing? When might that happen?” I managed.
“If you fell asleep,” Emmeline said gently, voicing what I already knew. “If you slept for a hundred years.”
I had seen my parents’ sad lives, Luna’s sorrowful motherhood, all occurring without me. I nodded, wiping my eyes with my hand. “I won’t fall asleep,” I vowed. “It will not happen.”
And then a sound shattered the quiet of the night, a peal of noise that made us both jump in fright. Again it sounded, and yet again. It was the frantic tolling of a bell, the signal that I dreaded: Manon had arrived.
16
Of Sorcery and Sudden Sleep
The bell rang and rang, and I stood in shock, unable to move. A wave of airless cold blew across my face as Emmeline led me back through the garden to the house. “It will be all right,” she said to me. But I didn’t believe her, for I felt that she didn’t quite believe herself.
Luna and Symon clattered down the stairs a few moments later, bleary-eyed. Luna was dressed in her tunic and leggings again. “She’s here!” my sister exclaimed, and I nodded. She took my icy hands in hers.
“I can feel her,” I whispered. “I felt her in the forest, and in Vittray, and even on the sea. She pulls at me, she and her servant Sleep.”
“I won’t let you go,” Luna said fiercely. “I’ll pinch you and prod you and yank your hair to keep you awake. She will never have you!” I laughed shakily and squeezed her hand, knowing that she meant every word.
“We will go down to the shore to meet her,” Emmeline instructed, her voice calm. “I cannot face her and keep all this intact as well.” She motioned to the house around us, and I wondered how much of it was really there and how much only imagined. The table and chairs had felt real, and the food had tasted good. It all looked very solid and true.
But there was no time for such thoughts. We walked quickly down the path and through the moonlit meadow. Emmeline led with Prince Leander, then Symon and Luna and I walked together.
As we neared the beach, we could make out the tall mast and limp black sail of Manon’s boat, which rested on the sand. Somehow the vessel had survived the whirlpool intact. There was no crew that I could see. Only one figure stood on the strand, her dark cape billowing in the breeze.
Then we lined up, the five of us facing her. Symon was on one side of me, and Luna was on the other. Manon threw back her hood, and my eyes widened in surprise as I saw her closely. She didn’t look at all like the crone we’d seen on the pier at Vittray. Her face was young and beautiful, her skin white as the whitest sand, her eyes and brows and hair sable black. But in her malicious eyes and the cruel slash of her mouth, I could make out traces of the old woman I’d watched as we sailed away, and I knew it was truly she who stood before us.
“At last we meet again,” Manon said. Her voice was deep and throaty. She was gazing at Emmeline and Prince Leander, not at me.
Leander bowed. “You look very well, Manon,” he said, his tone serene. But his jaunty smile was gone.
Manon scowled. “I would look far better if I had spent the last century as I should have—with you. The two of us, joyful together. Instead, I have been shaped by great sorrow and loss.”
“You are shaped by cruelty and revenge,” Emmeline countered, stepping forward. “You could not have kept him, you know. He loved only me.”
“My magic?” Emmeline repeated. “Am I so very good at magic? Then we have nothing to fear from you.” She laughed, as if to show her unconcern, but she sounded strained. I exchanged an anxious glance with Symon.
“You are less than nothing,” Manon said harshly to Emmeline. “You are as a splinter in my finger. I will pull you out and toss you away.”
“I am not quite as foolish as I was, nor as weak,” Emmeline retorted. “I have had some years to perfect my skills.”
“Perfect them?” Manon mocked her. “Do you mean this—this illusion?” She swept an arm around in a circle. As her arm moved, the parts of the island that she pointed to wavered and then disappeared. With dread I watched as the meadow, the trees behind, and the land beneath vanished. In a moment, there was nothing left but the strand we stood upon, a narrow beach in a great dark sea.
I could not stop from crying out fearfully, and Manon turned her attention to me.
“So, my dear,” she remarked. “You have managed to resist Sleep all this time! You are very clever, very clever indeed.” Manon’s gaze felt unbearably heavy, and I wobbled and would have fallen to my knees if Symon’s grip had not kept me upright.
“It is harder when I am near, is it not?” Manon went on. “Imagine what would happen if I were just to reach out and touch you! Could you stay awake then, do you think?”
I moaned as Manon’s hand came closer and closer to me. I felt paralyzed. I tried to make my legs move, but they didn’t obey me. Was it fear or magic that held me in place? I couldn’t tell.
But then Emmeline stepped between us. “I will not let you,” she declared.
“Ah, good,” Manon said, sounding pleased. “I have been waiting—come, let us see your power!”
Emmeline hesitated, then spoke a string of words I didn’t recognize. Not Latin, of that I was certain. The force of the incantation pushed Manon backward a few steps, and seawater splashed the hem of her dress.