A Dance of Silver and Shadow: A Retelling of The Twelve Dancing Princesses (Beyond the Four Kingdoms Book 1)

by Melanie Cellier

  I shook my head as the final giggle died away. “I think I needed that.”

  “Are the two of you all right?” asked Millie. “We’ve all been worried.”

  “Some of us more than others,” said Gabe with a significant look at Jon.

  Jon glared at his friend, and I blushed. To my surprise, Sophie refrained from joining the teasing, even in my mind, and rescued me instead with a change of topic. The conversation moved on and didn’t come back up until we returned to the palace.

  Jon and Gabe escorted us back to our suite, and as he said goodbye, Jon leaned in close and whispered, too quietly for the others to hear, “He was right, you know. I was worried. Next time I don’t care what they say, I’m coming in to sit by your bedside.”

  I swallowed. “Let’s hope there isn’t a next time.”

  “Yes. There’d better not be.”

  I couldn’t decide if it was a promise or a threat in his eyes, but it haunted me long after the door had closed. I liked these new friends who had welcomed us into their land. And, if I liked some, or one in particular, more than others, I couldn’t help that. Certainly none of them deserved an untimely, magical end. After our conversation in the garden, I couldn’t help but be afraid. Apparently it wasn’t only the princesses of these kingdoms that needed our rescue. The princes needed rescue from themselves.

  Chapter 14

  That night, we arrived at the ball as late as we dared. Helena had helped lace us into our simplest gowns, and had provided yet another new pair of dancing slippers without comment. She had also summoned a footman to help each of us down to the ballroom, and I had shamelessly leaned on his arm the entire way. I figured I should conserve what strength I could for when no such convenient support would be available.

  As soon as we stepped through the doors, Jon appeared in front of us.

  Almost as if he’s been lurking next to the door all evening waiting for us. Sophie sounded far too smug, so I didn’t deign to reply.

  I shook my head at him. “No dancing tonight.”

  “You have to dance, at least once.” He continued to hold out his hand. “It’s…”

  I groaned. “…tradition, right?”

  He tried to hide his grin. “No spinning, I promise.”

  I sighed and put my hand into his. A surge of energy shot through me at the contact, and when he pulled me into his arms, and we began to sway, I almost enjoyed the sensation. Except my legs still felt a little leaden, and I kept thinking longingly of my soft pillow.

  “I’m sorry about this afternoon.” He sounded sincere. “I just hate feeling so helpless.”

  I softened and smiled at him. I had learned independence and responsibility far too young. I recognized those same qualities in Jon and knew all too well his welling frustration of helplessness. People like us felt it the most.

  I imagined spending every third night waiting on the other side of the door while Sophie and Celine disappeared through, the way that he was forced to watch his sisters, Lilac, Hazel and Marigold. I shivered. However unpleasant it was to be trapped in the Tourney, at least as contestants we were free to help each other.

  And, of course, that didn’t even take into account the curiosity. I wasn’t sure I could have borne it in his shoes. Imagine not knowing where or how we all spent our nights?

  “What is it?” he asked, having felt my shiver.

  “I’m just wondering how you manage it,” I said, wanting to keep the conversation light. “The curiosity, I mean. Don’t misunderstand me—if given the choice, I would have opted out of the Tourney. But I also might have died of curiosity by now.”

  His face darkened for a moment, and I suspected his mind had gone to the impotence of the nights spent waiting, as mine had. But he chose to stay light as well. “I will admit it’s quite difficult. Everyone has a theory, of course, each wilder than the last. Gabe comes up with the most exciting suggestions, but Teddy’s are cleverer.”

  “And yours?”

  He chuckled. “Mine are entirely too practical. Or so I’m told.” The cloud passed over his face again. “Although the state of your slippers—and yourselves—is making it increasingly hard to convince myself of any boring, sensible suggestions.”

  “Sensible doesn’t have to be boring, you know.” I smiled, trying to take his mind off his frustration, and all the questions I couldn’t answer.

  He shook his head. “Maybe not. But it does tend to lead to fewer broken bones. You only have to compare my childhood to Gabe’s to confirm that.”

  “I’d love to hear about your childhood sometime,” I said. “Even if it was disaster-free.” I laughed up at him with my eyes, inviting him to join my lighter mood.

  He looked down at me, and I could see his face softening. “And I would love to hear about yours.”

  “I didn’t break any bones, but I’m afraid there were disasters. I’d hate to shock you,” I said with mock solemnity.

  His eyes crinkled in suppressed laughter. “Don’t worry, Lily.” He somehow kept his voice grave. “I have three sisters, remember. I’m not so easily shocked.”

  A bell chimed through the ballroom, killing my response. Annoyance crossed Jon’s face, and his hands tightened as if he didn’t want to let me go. I wished for a crazy moment that he would ignore the bell and continue to hold me close. I felt more energy with his arms around me than I had since waking up from the fever.

  But he let me go, and I hid my irrational annoyance, pretending I hadn’t noticed his embrace at all. “Goodness, that was quick tonight.” I reminded myself an early start was a good thing. I wasn’t optimistic about how long Sophie and I would last.

  The twelve of us had become efficient at lining up and descending into the mysterious realm belowground, although Pearl and Opal looked unusually pale.

  I hoped they had recovered enough from their own illnesses not to collapse partway through whatever event we faced. I didn’t have the energy to carry either of them—however light they were.

  A knot of tension grew between my shoulder blades as we passed through the diamond-leaved grove. Would the boats return now that the last challenge was complete? I could read the same question in some of the eyes around me, but no one spoke it out loud.

  When the small coracles bobbed toward us across the water, several quiet breaths released. Still no one spoke aloud, however. Minutes later we once again entered the mirror palace and took our places at the heavy oak table. My eyes fastened immediately on the only difference in the room—a small sandglass in the center of the table. I tried to guess how much time it would measure. Five minutes, maybe? Ten?

  My tension had only grown, despite the smooth arrival of the boats. Just walking through the three groves had left me tired, and my eyes kept drooping shut of their own accord.

  Once again Emmeline retrieved the note from the middle of the table and read our instructions aloud. “You will be presented with a series of riddles. You must work together to solve them. Once you have determined the answer, write it on the piece of parchment provided.”

  Tears welled in my eyes from the relief. A non-physical challenge. In fact, this one really didn’t sound so bad at all.

  Except Emmeline hadn’t finished. “Each failure to supply a correct answer before the sand runs out will result in the loss of one of your number. Do not attempt to leave the table until all twelve riddles have been completed.”

  The beginnings of my smile dropped away. The loss of one of our number? What exactly does that mean? I had meant to merely project the thought to Sophie but, in my exhaustion, I spoke the words aloud. The briefest glimpse up the table, however, showed that it didn’t matter. I had only said what everyone was thinking.

  “I don’t like the sound of that, at all.” Celine frowned.

  “We’ll just have to make sure we get them all right, then,” said Sophie. “There are twelve of us, surely we can do it.” She looked up and down the table. “Any keen riddlers present?”

  “Hazel is quite
good at them,” said Lilac. Her younger sister blushed at the praise and tried to look modest.

  “Emmeline and I have some skill,” said Giselle. It still astonished me whenever either of them spoke. I didn’t understand how anyone could be so emotionally disconnected from the ordeal of the Tourney. But, it made sense they would be good at riddles. They seemed to have the necessary objectivity.

  “Oh!” Marigold’s exclamation made me jump slightly in my seat. She was staring down at her golden plate which now contained a folded parchment. She scanned the other plates, but they all remained empty.

  “It looks like you’re supposed to go first, Marigold.” Hazel leaned in from the next seat to peer over her younger sister’s arm.

  Marigold, who sat on the same side of the table as me, but at the opposite end, looked less than excited about the idea. I could hardly blame her. Unfolding it, she read out, “I was not born, and I cannot die. Yet I bring all things low and death inevitably follows in my wake.”

  “Cheery,” muttered Celine.

  “It seems they’ve started with an easy one,” said Emmeline. “Hopefully they will all continue that way.”

  “Yes.” Hazel nodded eagerly. “This one isn’t difficult at all.”

  Ugh! Could they be more smug? Please tell me I’m not the only one who doesn’t see the answer! I projected.

  Sophie sent me a grimace. It feels as if my head is full of cotton balls.

  I forced my brain to focus. It had been years since I had done any riddling, but the others had said this one was easy…

  The answer came to me just as Giselle spoke it aloud, “Time.”

  Marigold glanced around to see if anyone wanted to dispute the solution. Greeted with a row of nodding heads, she wrote the answer on the parchment with the pen that had appeared in front of her.

  We all looked around warily. Nothing happened.

  “Try putting it on the plate,” suggested Lilac.

  As soon as the parchment hit the gold, it crumbled into dust and was somehow absorbed into the plate. After another pause, I forced a smile. “I guess that must have been the right answer, then.”

  As if to prove me right, a second parchment appeared on Hazel’s plate. Apparently we would be taking turns around the table. She picked it up quickly. “I am circle without end, square without corner. Nothing can grasp me.”

  She bit her lip and frowned, her eyes running over the page again. Eventually she looked up. “That’s it.” I could see her disappointment at not immediately seeing the answer. She looked questioningly at Emmeline and Giselle, but they wore the same confused, thoughtful expressions.

  I tried to think. Circle. Square. Corner. What was the rest again? I closed my eyes and had to force them to reopen. I kept thinking of my pillow which interfered with my attempts to find an answer. Wheels are circles…Goose feathers are soft…Books are square—well, not really…I often grasp at the coverlet in my sleep.

  As the seconds of silence lengthened, the discomfort around the table grew. More and more eyes fixed upon the sandglass. Surely we hadn’t all been defeated by the second riddle. I tried to bully my brain into working, but it wasn’t paying attention.

  The glass looked dangerously low. “We should make a guess, at least,” said Sophie. “Any chance, however small, is better than none.”

  No one spoke, but I saw Lilac open her mouth and then close it again.

  “Lilac?” I asked. “Do you have a suggestion?”

  She frowned. “It’s probably not right. I’m sure it’s not.”

  “What is it? Quick!” Hazel gripped the pen tightly in her fingers, her eyes on the final disappearing grains of sand.

  “The stars.”

  Hazel dashed down the words and then dropped the parchment onto her plate, just before the final grains flowed through to the bottom of the glass. For a moment, we all held our breath, waiting for the parchment to dissolve. Only, when it did, a whoosh accompanied it, and both Hazel and her chair disappeared.

  Marigold and Lilac screamed, and Lilac, who sat on Hazel’s other side, dropped down almost out of sight below the table.

  “Hazel!”

  “What happened?”

  “Where is she?”

  Voices all spoke over the top of one another. It had happened almost too fast to register, and several girls made as if to stand to get a better view.

  “No! No one move.” My harsh command caused everyone to drop back into their seats. “Remember what the instructions said. Who knows what disaster will befall us if any of us try to leave our seats before the riddles are finished.” I rushed out the words as quickly as I could, craning in my chair as hard as any of them in my attempt to see past Sophie and Millie, who sat between me and Lilac.

  “Careful! Don’t let go!” Marigold, the only one with a clear view, sounded terrified. She was staring at the empty gap in the table next to her where her sister had been sitting only moments before.

  Millie, who sat on the other side of Lilac, leaned over and appeared to grasp hold of her friend. Whatever assistance she was offering must have worked because, a moment later, Lilac straightened in her chair. As she came back into view, Hazel also appeared, dragged up by her sister.

  Scooting to the side, Lilac made room for them both to sit on her wide seat. Hazel still hadn’t made a sound, but they both trembled violently.

  “What happened?” asked Celine.

  “It…it’s just gone.” Lilac’s voice trembled, as well as her body.

  “What’s gone?”

  Marigold answered for her older sister. “The chair. The floor. Everything. It’s just a gaping hole.” She was still staring at the gap in the table between her lone chair on the end and the chair that now held both of her sisters.

  I swallowed. Hard.

  Lilac tried to speak, stopped, and then tried again. “I was paying extra attention—I guess I was on edge because I had given the answer, and I was sure it was wrong. If I hadn’t been, I never would have caught her arm as she fell…”

  “Well done, Lilac,” said Sophie. “And now we’re prepared.” She looked around at everyone with a forced smile. “When you write your answer, make sure you grip one of the people next to you before you place the parchment on the plate.”

  As she spoke, the next parchment appeared on the plate in front of the chair that now held both Lilac and Hazel. Millie, Lilac’s only remaining neighbor, looked from the parchment to the two girls on the seat and went pale. I couldn’t blame her. We would have to get this one right, at least.

  I scanned the table. I sat on the end of our row, and could rely on Sophie to catch me. But Blanche sat directly across from me, with only the fourteen-year-old Giselle as a neighbor, and Celine sat on the other end, diagonally opposite me, with only Pearl as her neighbor. Which meant there were actually several we would have to get right.

  “Quickly!” I said, proud that my voice didn’t shake. “The sand has started.”

  Lilac read out the riddle in a low mumble.

  “You’ll need to read louder,” said Emmeline.

  Lilac cleared her throat and tried again.

  “Another easy one,” said Giselle, giving the answer.

  “But are you sure?” I pressed, not taking my eyes off the disappearing sand.

  “Emmeline?” Giselle turned to her sister for confirmation.

  “Absolutely. That is the correct answer.” I didn’t like having to trust in the two icy Eldonian princesses when they showed no fear. Did they even understand the gravity of the situation? But I had no choice.

  Lilac took a deep breath, wrote the answer on the parchment, and then held it above her plate.

  “Wait,” said Millie. “Let me get a firm grip.” Both girls clasped each other’s forearm, locking their hands as tightly as possible. Hazel clung to her sister’s other side as Lilac dropped the parchment. It floated down and settled on her plate.

  We all held our breath for a second that seemed to go on and on. I blinked, and a p
ile of dust disappeared into the plate. We all waited another long second before releasing a breath of relief. Millie and Lilac shared a wobbly smile.

  Millie read out her riddle and once again my brain refused to engage. This time because I was too busy considering who stood in the most danger. Sophie sat between Millie and me, but Millie must be as heavy as Sophie, so catching her wouldn’t be an easy feat. I decided to grip Sophie’s other arm, to anchor her in case Millie’s seat fell away.

  But Emmeline managed to puzzle out the correct answer, so Millie was safe. My relief mixed with an unreasonable frustration. It galled me that we were so beholden to someone who seemed entirely disinterested in the process.

  I didn’t even hear Sophie read out her riddle. I knew I should be helping to think of an answer, but my fuzzy brain kept circling back to the dropped chair and the approaching danger to my sister. I gripped Sophie’s arm harder than I had ever done before.

  But a shaken Hazel managed to give the correct answer, and then it was my turn. To my surprise I recognized a favorite riddle from my childhood. “My dress is the envy of maidens,” I read out. “Another simple one.”

  I looked over at Sophie, and we smiled at the same time. I had always loved it because of my name.

  “White calla lily.” Sophie looked around the table. “Because it looks like a wedding dress.”

  No one disputed it, and I quickly wrote the answer on my parchment. I was certain we were right, but…

  “I should hold your arm, anyway,” said Sophie. “Just in case.”

  We gripped forearms as the other girls had done, as I dropped the parchment on my plate and watched it dissolve into dust. I smiled at the others. After four correct answers in a row, my heart rate had slowed down. Until my eyes caught on Blanche.

  Sitting across from me she looked even paler than usual and kept casting surreptitious glances at the smaller Giselle, her only neighbor. My anxiety spiked again.