The Scarecrow King: A Romantic Retelling of the King Thrushbeard Fairy Tale

by Jill Myles

  “Princess,” she began, worry creeping into her tone.

  “Call me Rinda,” I said, giving her an exasperated smile. “At least in private. In public, do call me Princess. I have a plan, you see. A plan that should make us both a great deal of money.”

  Wariness crossed her face. “What sort of plan?”

  I grinned down at her. “We’re going to let people pay for the Balinore princess to magic their things. Is there a market near here?”

  “There is,” she said dubiously.

  Excellent. I tried to contain my excitement. “We can go and you can act as my serving maid. We’ll fix my hair and I’ll sneer at everyone, and they’ll know that I’m what I claim to be. We’ll do a couple of examples for free, and then let the customers come to us. And whatever money we get from this, we can split between the two of us.”

  “I don’t know,” Annja said thoughtfully. “These are turbulent times in Lioncourt. Everyone’s frightened of the usurper king and what he’ll do.”

  I shook my head. “He won’t be in the marketplace. And if there’s a sign of danger, we’ll run. No one will think a princess is staying in a house like this,” I said, gesturing at my small home. “My servants had richer quarters than this back at the castle.”

  Annja blushed. “You must be used to so much better.” She sounded embarrassed.

  Oops. I patted her shoulder. “I only meant that it’s an ideal hiding spot. I’ll borrow Alek's cloak to cover my dress and we can blend in with everyone else. We can try it and see how much money we make, Annja. If it turns out to be nothing, then we won’t do it again. But think of what we can buy if we use my magic to do us good.”

  She looked torn. Her hand went to her stomach, clearly thinking of the baby. She gave me a hesitant look. “Does Aleksandr know?”

  “No, and I don’t plan on telling him unless it’s necessary. He wants me to stay inside this house all day and wait for him to come home. I’m to try and make this a home.”

  Annja hesitated.

  I bent to my knees and clasped my hands in front of her like a supplicant. “Please, Annja. I’m not good at cleaning. Or cooking. Or anything domestic. What I am good at is being a princess. But I need your help. Can you please help me?”

  She bit her lip, and then sighed. “All right, but you have to promise not to kneel in the dirt in that lovely skirt anymore. It’s hurting my heart just to see it.”

  I laughed with delight and reached forward to hug her. “I only wish my hair was blonde like my sister’s. Then they’d know that I’m Balinoran and full of magic.”

  “Goldroot,” said Annja immediately. “It makes a paste that adds a golden wash to everything it touches. Some ladies use it to brighten their hair.”

  “Excellent. Where can we get some?”

  “Back at my house.”

  We headed back to Annja’s small home and ate breakfast as she doctored my hair and discussed our plans. Just like Annja promised, the paste from the goldroot stiffened my hair and made it shine a dull gold, brightening the brown into a waxy, brassy sort of blonde. As she worked my hair, she wove it into an elaborate braided coronet.

  When she was done, she laughed and held her hands out in front of her. “You see? It’s quite messy but the noble ladies in the South Country quite like it, I hear.”

  My return smile died at the sight of her hands. I had seen that before – on my own hands when I’d cleaned Alek's hair for him. Why was my husband lightening his hair with goldroot? I made a mental note to ask him later.

  As Annja wiped her hands clean, I stood and straightened my skirts, then smiled at her. “How do I look?”

  “Like a princess,” she said in a soft, admiring voice.

  Perfect.

  ~~ * ~~

  Armed with cloaks despite the sunny warmth of the day, Annja and I swaddled ourselves and left the house, making our way toward the market. The streets were wide and populated, and everyone seemed to be smiling and happy despite the fact that there were troubles with the throne. I wondered how much the royalty really mattered to the common people. It was a sobering thought.

  I could hear the sounds of the marketplace before I could see it, and by the time we made our way to the cross streets into the open plaza of the market, the lively chatter of thousands of voices had turned into a dull roar of sound. People strode everywhere, hawking wares from baskets and holding them aloft. Brightly colored tents were set up along the streets for merchants to lay out their goods, and myriad shoppers wove in between people as they walked, haggling and bartering for everything down to the smallest purchase. I smiled as I watched them interact, though my smile dimmed at the sight of the soldiers in uniforms standing near the front of the marketplace. They watched the participants with cold eyes, and I realized they supported the new king.

  Annja took my hand and dragged me through the maze of stalls. I obediently followed her lead. Earlier we had discussed the best place to show my talents, and we had decided upon the cobbler. Annja led the way and I did my best to keep the haughty look on my face. Some passer-by would catch a glimpse of my emerald green skirts and give us a second look, but no one stopped us.

  We ended up at a small, brightly colored tent in the center of the marketplace. Stripes of red and yellow covered the outside, a pennant flapping in the breeze perched atop the tent itself.

  Annja gestured that I should remove my cloak and I did so, glancing around as I shrugged it off. There were no soldiers to be seen, which made me a little easier. She gave me a curtsy and a wink, and said loudly, “I will return in a brief moment, Your Highness.”

  I gave her my haughtiest nod, trying not to smile. “Very well.”

  I waited outside, conscious of people slowing down to gawk at me with my bright dress. I ignored them, stiff with haughtiness in my gown, the epitome of royalty. People continued to gather, not wanting to miss out on what would be the most interesting aspect of the day. Though I was used to people staring at me, it began to grow uncomfortable. Could they see that my shoes were patched and worn through and covered with dried mud? Would they notice the goldroot in my hair?

  After a long (almost too long) moment, Annja emerged and waved me in. My posture stiff and regal, I picked up my skirts and entered the small tent.

  Inside, the tent was filled with racks and racks of shoes. Every inch of free space inside the tent was covered with all kinds of colorful shoes in every style imaginable. Women’s shoes, men’s shoes, children’s shoes – some ornate and some very plain. I stared enviously at one with a large, hourglass shaped heel and forced myself to not want. That shoe would pay for a month’s worth of meals for myself and Alek.

  A small man was seated amidst the wealth, pieces of cut leather shavings scattered about him as he fitted a bright red shoe onto a leather-shaping tool. A pair of wire spectacles perched on his bulbous nose, and he frowned at Annja and myself. “So this is your princess? All I see is a woman in a fancy gown.”

  “The Princess Rinda can do magic,” Annja stated again. “She can magic your shoes so the wearer will never trip. They will never step into a puddle and the buttons will never snap off by accident. They will be lucky.”

  He snorted in disbelief again. “Rubbish.”

  I stared down my nose at him. “Are you not aware of the stories of the people of Balinore, sir?”

  “That they’re all wizards and enchanters? I’ve heard the stories.” He peered at me through the spectacles and gave them a nudge as they were in danger of sliding off their perch. “But any girl can put on a fancy dress and make her hair yellow. Why don’t you magic something and prove it to me, then? Make these shoes dance.” He gestured at them with the leather tool.

  “That’s not how my Birthright works,” I answered in a self-assured fashion, though inside the old, cloying embarrassment was threatening to erupt. He thought my magic was stupid and small, just like the others. What if Alek was the only one that thought it was important and I was just deluding myself? “My mag
ic is to enchant inanimate objects to be lucky.”

  “She can fix them before they ever break. I have seen it myself. Do you have a tool that is working poorly?” Annja asked. “A shoe on the verge of breaking?”

  “Of course not,” he said, shoving the spectacles up his nose again as they slid down. “This is a high-end shop. We don’t deal in broken, run down things.”

  I extended my hand. “Give me your spectacles.”

  He glared at me. “Why should I?”

  “So I can use my Birthright to get them to stay on your nose and prove to you that I am who I say I am.” I remained calm and cool, though inside I was nervous. If he didn’t believe me, we’d look like fools.

  To my relief, he gave me another grudging look, then pulled the spectacles off his nose and placed them in my hand. “Mind the lenses. They smear easily.”

  I pulled out my needle, lightly pricked my finger, and then nudged a miniscule drop of blood on the rim of one of the lenses, and blew on it to dry it. The tickle in the air was palpable, and I saw both Annja and the cobbler shiver out of the corner of my eye. “There,” I said. “Try them now.”

  He took them back warily, and placed them on the edge of his nose. “They’re the same as they always were.”

  I gave him an enigmatic smile and waited.

  The cobbler turned his head from side to side in a violent motion, then back and forth. The glasses remained in place. He leaned forward, trying to get them to slide. They remained in place.

  He scowled at me. “Did you bend the frames?”

  “Of course not,” I said evenly. “If you drop them on the floor, they will not shatter, either.”

  As if on cue, Annja reached forward, snatched the glasses from his face and threw them to the floor. The cobbler gave a cry of protest. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for a tell-tale tinkle of glass that would make me a liar.

  But there was nothing.

  The cobbler glared at the two of us and moved across the room to grab the glasses and put them back on his nose. Again, they stayed in place. With a strange look, he moved toward me, eyeing my gown and my hair, carefully woven in a coronet braid to suggest royalty without the crown. “You…you’re the Balinore princess?”

  “I am.”

  He dropped to his knee in front of me. “Your Highness. You honor my shop with your presence.”

  I extended my hand so he could press his forehead to it. “Thank you for your kind words. However, I am a visitor in this land, and my party was robbed by brigands. I am looking to do business. My magic in exchange for good, solid coin.”

  His gaze became shrewd. “Five copper for every pair of shoes you magic.”

  I had no idea if that was good or not. Luckily, Annja was there to rescue me. “Five silver for every pair, and you let the princess receive visitors here today, if she wishes. She will take any and all commissions provided the price is right.”

  He nodded and pressed his face to my hand again. “Of course, Your Highness.”

  Annja beamed at me.

  It seemed that I had a job.

  ~~ * ~~

  Word spread quickly through the marketplace of the unusual goings-on in the cobbler’s tent that day. By the end of the evening, I had magicked all kinds of things – from bowls to baskets to clothing that would not hang quite right. My finger throbbed with how many times I had pricked it, and my hands felt dirty from all the foreheads that had pressed to it in gratitude. I had held court amongst the Lioncourt peasantry, all awed to see me. Some had nothing to magic – they simply wanted to see a princess. And I demurred and avoided all questions as to why I was in a market in Lioncourt City.

  By the end of the day, the cobbler’s booth had sold dozens upon dozens of pairs of shoes, Annja’s purse jingled with coins, and we had to shoo the rest of the onlookers away to make our way home. I slipped my cloak back on over my dress and Annja and I snuck out the back of the cobbler’s tent with the promise to return the next day and repeat our business.

  We hurried through the streets, and I glanced backward to see the crowd still waiting at the front of the tent, craning their heads to get a look at the Balinore princess. I felt a twinge of guilt that they wouldn’t see me, but I didn’t want them to follow me home.

  Once we’d made it several streets away, we paused to catch our breath, clutching at each other. Annja gave me a wild grin. “Did you see how much money we made?”

  “No,” I breathed, excitement burning in my chest. “Did we make a lot?”

  “At least three hundred silver,” she said with a laugh of happiness.

  “Is that a lot?” I asked her. “What will that buy?”

  “Lots of things,” she said, and we sat on the back step of a house to try and count out our money. I had insisted that we split it halfway – Annja had worked hard all day, lining up people and chasing away those that just wanted to gawk. She deserved just as much of the money as I did, and I was happy to share it with her. A few minutes later, we had jingling purses and the sun was going down.

  I tucked my bag of coins into my dress. “You can’t tell Alek what we did today,” I said. “He wants me to stay at home and hide out until things die down with the new king.”

  She looked troubled at the thought. “He’s right, you know. These are troubling times–”

  “I know he’s right,” I interrupted, giving her a smile to take the sting out of my words. “But we are also broke and need to make money. We’ll only do this for a brief time, I promise. As soon as it gets dangerous, we’ll stop.”

  Annja looked dubious, so I reached out and jingled her coin bag, reminding her of what we had to gain.

  A wicked smile curved her face at that. “If we’re going to fool our husbands, we need to buy dinner before they come home.”

  Giggling like schoolgirls, we purchased cold meat pies from a vendor at the edge of the market and then scrambled home. I waved to her as she dashed off, and bolted the front door behind me. My eyes scanned the inside of my small house for an ideal hiding spot, and I eventually hid my coins under the straw tick mattress. Then, I changed into my working dress and knelt by the fireplace to start a fire. I’d barely gotten the kindling caught when there came a knock.

  “Rinda? It’s me.”

  At the sound of Aleksandr's voice, I opened the door and smiled to welcome him in. Sweaty and sun-browned from a day of work, he leaned in and gave me a hearty kiss.

  “Your hair looks lighter.”

  My hand went to my hair in alarm. “I…oh. Annja and I were playing with goldroot.”

  He chuckled and kissed me again. “Your hair is beautiful as it is. You don’t need to be blonde.” He touched my cheek with a rueful smile. “Did you have a good day? I’m sorry I was gone so long. We were helping in the mines and time got away from me.”

  I eyed his sunburned cheeks with skepticism. “In the mines all day, you say? And Talis? Did he help you in the mines?”

  “Oh. Uh, yes.”

  Well, there was one thing in Alek's favor – he was a terrible liar. I studied him and tried not to frown. If I had to guess, he and Talis had more likely spent the day looking for news on the missing soldiers and the king’s party. He was lying to me about where he’d been.

  “Be careful,” was all I said.

  “Always careful, dear lady,” he said with a grin. “How about you? Were you bored today?”

  “I wasn’t bored,” I told him, moving back to the fire and placing a log on it before my fledgling fire could go out. “Annja came by and we cooked and did some mending. I fell asleep and woke up just now.” The lies came easily to me, and I felt a bit ashamed for spinning them so easily. Here we were, both lying to each other. A fine start to a new marriage. “The fire died while I was asleep.”

  “That’s all right,” he said, grasping my hand and moving in to kiss me again. “I’m used to being in the dark with you.”

  I blushed again, thinking of last night. “Did you petition the palace? About our final
vows?”

  “Tomorrow,” he promised. “We’ll go at sunset.”

  “I can hardly wait,” I said shyly.

  He pulled me close, a grin lighting his face and highlighting his own blush. “Who says anything about waiting?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The next morning, Alek kissed me goodbye and left for the day again. “I’m going back to the mines,” he murmured. “Some of the men are meeting early.”

  “Be safe,” I whispered to him.

  As soon as he was gone, I dashed from the bed and dressed in my green brocade gown again. Within minutes, I met Annja at the door and we grinned at each other, sharing a secret.

  “Ready to go?”

  I nodded and threw the long cloak over my dress. “Did Talis ask you about anything?”

  She shook her head. “I pretended to be tired because of the baby and he spent the evening rubbing my shoulders. What about you?”

  I bit my lip, glancing back at my tiny hovel as we walked away from it. “I don’t think Alek suspected anything…but I don’t think he was entirely truthful with me.” My worried hands fixed the cloak around my neck as we walked through the maze of streets of Lioncourt. “He said that he and Talis were helping out at the mines. What did Talis tell you?”

  A worried look wrinkled her brow. “He told me they were assisting at the stables. What do you think they’re doing?”

  “He’s been very worried about the new king,” I admitted. “I worry that he’s going to do something rash and help with an insurgency.”

  Annja stopped walking, and her face whitened, completely losing all color. She swallowed visibly. “Insurgency? Why would you think that?”

  Oh dear. Annja looked extremely upset, and guilty to boot. It was odd. “Why wouldn’t I think that? He hates the new king and was friends with the old guard. Why wouldn’t they be trying to overthrow him?”

  My friend paled even more. “You must not talk so loud,” she whispered, clutching her stomach. She looked terrified.