The Spinner and the Slipper

by Camryn Lockhart

  “Play!” King Hendry roared at the musicians in their gallery. They gulped and gasped and launched into a tune, hitting several sour notes until they found their stride. Prince Ellis, his eyes huge but his mouth unsmiling, began moving in the intricate paces of a dance Eliana did not know. She followed as best she could, and felt again how her crystal slippers kept her, for the most part, in rhythm with her partner.

  It was nevertheless the most miserable dance she’d ever experienced.

  “I have not met you at court before, have I?” the prince said, speaking with cool politeness.

  Eliana glanced up at him through her sunburst mask. Did he not know her origins? Or was he simply testing her, trying to see how honest she would be? “I am a miller’s daughter,” she said, speaking with difficulty as she struggled to maintain the pace of the dance. “I have never been invited to court before.”

  She saw his eyelids flutter through the holes of his panther mask. Was it possible that she glimpsed kindness there? Could it be that Prince Ellis was as good and generous as Martha claimed he was, a man who did not scorn to speak with courtesy to housemaids or peasants?

  Or was he simply embarrassed? Deeply, painfully embarrassed . . .

  A sudden movement on the edge of the crowd caught Eliana’s eye. She turned her head, almost against her will, and saw three figures pushing their way through the lords and ladies, three figures she knew too well! Mistress Carlyn, followed closely by Bridin and Innis. They were dressed in silks and gems but somehow managed to look drab and out of place. Where they had come by their finery, Eliana could not guess, though she suspected Mistress Carlyn had gone into deep debt with various merchants, claiming kinship with Lady Gold-Spinner and her riches.

  They stared and pointed, and Mistress Carlyn waved and called out, “Yoohoo! Eliana dearest!”

  Eliana wished she could bury herself underground and never come out again. Prince Ellis, still moving in time to the dance, looked over her head and saw the three women, saw Mistress Carlyn’s rude behavior with her exaggerated gestures and smiles. “Friends of yours?” he asked, sounding as though he did not wish to hear the answer.

  “My stepfamily,” Eliana breathed, more ashamed than she had ever before felt in her life. By some magic she had managed to avoid even a glimpse of Mistress Carlyn and her daughters these last two nights—but apparently whatever lucky charm she had enjoyed while in the company of her oak-leaf man was now truly broken.

  The song came to an end. Prince Ellis, though still holding Eliana by the hand, looked this way and that as though searching for some means of escape. Before he could settle on a course of action, Mistress Carlyn rushed out onto the floor, her two daughters trailing behind her, shamefaced with eyes downcast. There was no shame in Mistress Carlyn’s face, however, as she grabbed Eliana by the arm.

  “Sweetest girl!” she exclaimed, her eyes bright and cold behind her feathery mask despite the warmth of her words. “You simply must introduce us to this handsome young man!”

  Eliana wanted to die. Her stepmother knew perfectly well with whom Eliana danced, and she knew perfectly well how indescribably rude it was to foist herself upon the attention of the prince himself, especially in so public a setting. There could be no excuse for this display of ill-breeding. Eliana did not even have to look at the prince to feel the enormous discomfort and irritation radiating from the very marrow of his spirit.

  Though Eliana did not speak a word, Mistress Carlyn extended her hand to the prince, simpering delicately when he, after some hesitation, took it and offered the smallest bow possible. “I am Lady Gold-Spinner’s mother!” she declared, then ushered her two daughters forward. “And these are her sisters, my sweet cherubs, Miss Bridin and Miss Innis.” Clutching the prince’s hand as though she would never let go, she swept her gaze about the watching crowd of guests and declared in a loud voice, “They are both excellent catches for any nobly born man, these sisters of Lady Gold-Spinner!” She addressed herself to the prince again, a secret, knowing smile creasing her painted face. “Especially now that she has caught the eye of the prince himself!”

  Eliana dared cast Prince Ellis only the briefest glimpse. But in that instant she saw, even behind his mask, the deep flush of red creeping over his skin. If before he had felt only vague discomfort and disinterest in the bride his father had chosen for him, he must surely hate her now!

  Ellis turned to Eliana, opening his mouth to speak words she could not begin to guess. But before he’d uttered so much as a single syllable, King Hendry’s voice boomed across the way:

  “Bring your lady here, my boy!”

  Prince Ellis heaved a sigh but spoke no protest. He tucked Eliana’s hand into the crook of his elbow and led her away from her stepfamily, back to the grand staircase. Eliana could not say which emotion dominated in that moment—relief at leaving Mistress Carlyn behind or dread at facing the king once more.

  King Hendry, with his smiling queen behind him, scowled down at the prince and the girl as they bowed and curtsied at his feet. “So you’ve met and you’ve danced,” the king said, arms folded over his brilliantly embroidered jacket. “And what do you make of our Lady Gold-Spinnner, boy?”

  Ellis coughed and hesitated. Just speak the truth, Eliana silently urged him, though she could not bring herself to so much as look his way. Tell him you do not like me. It would be better for both of us!

  But when Prince Ellis found his voice he said, however reluctantly, “My kingly father, I have just now met the fairest maiden in all the land.”

  Not an ounce of truth graced his words. He said only what he knew his father wanted to hear. Eliana tried to pull her hand from his elbow, but his other hand latched down on top of hers, holding her in place.

  A broad smile split Hendry’s face nearly in two, almost as beaming as the smile his wife already wore. “Excellent!” he declared. “In that case, the betrothal is set.”

  “No!”

  A united gasp rushed through the crowd of noble onlookers. King Hendry’s smile froze, and his eyes hardened behind their mask.

  And Eliana, standing with her hand trapped in Prince Ellis’s grasp, realized that it was she herself who had spoken.

  Her breath caught in her throat . . . but she did not take back her refusal. Instead, she drew herself up as straight as she could, meeting the king’s gaze through her own mask of sunbeams.

  “What did you say?” the king asked, the words hissing through his mustache like snakes.

  Eliana felt the delicate weight of her mother’s necklace resting on her bosom. She felt the warmth of the gold ring on her finger. She gathered herself, summoning a store of courage she had not hitherto realized she possessed, and spoke in a quiet but clear voice.

  “I cannot marry your son, Your Majesty,” she said, “though I am grateful for the honor of his kind words. But I cannot marry him because, you see, I love another.”

  Another shared gasp shook the assembly like the gusting winds of a gathering storm. Someone—Eliana was quite certain it was Mistress Carlyn’s voice she heard—called out in a near-hysterical voice, “Don’t be a little fool!”

  King Hendry stood as though transfixed before Eliana’s bold words. Then he stomped down the stairs, closing the distance between himself and her, and though the mask he wore was bright and cheerful, she saw murder in his eyes.

  “You have but one alternative, peasant,” he whispered. His eyes promised: I have not yet ordered my servants to tear down the gallows!

  “Come now, Father,” murmured Prince Ellis reasonably. “If she loves someone else, doesn’t that make for—”

  “Hssssssst!” Hendry put up one warning hand, his gaze never breaking with Eliana’s. “It’s your choice,” he snarled. “Your fate, your future, is entirely in your hands. So answer me now, once and for all . . . will you marry my son or won’t you?”

  “I will not marry him,” Eliana replied.

  Purple rage swept over the king’s ruddy face. With a violent moveme
nt of one arm he dashed his mask from his face, then flung it to the ground and stomped it beneath his feet. “Guards!” he bellowed. “Guards!”

  Eliana paled, seeing the same men-at-arms who had escorted her to and from her chamber the last three nights appear at the top of the stairs.

  “Arrest this girl!” King Hendry cried, oblivious to the horrified exclamations of his queen, his son, and his many guests. “She is an imposter! She seeks to ingratiate her way into the royal household under false pretenses! She is not and never will be Lady Gold-Spinner!”

  Eliana realized suddenly that Prince Ellis had dropped her arm and backed away. She stood alone in that empty space before the stairs, and the men-at-arms, looking fierce in their armor and helmets, descended upon her as if she were some dangerous enemy of the crown, not a small slip of a maiden dressed in too much gold. She retreated, her glass slippers clicking on the floor beneath her.

  Then she wasn’t alone anymore. Someone stood between her and the guards. Someone wearing a mask of bronzed oak leaves.

  The men-at-arms paused as they reached the bottom steps, blinking hard against disbelief. Could it be true? Was it possible that this strange, tall man could manifest out of thin air right before their eyes?

  “Not another step!” the oak-leaf man declared, drawing a sword from his belt, a blade which had been hidden by magic until that moment.

  The guards hesitated. Then, as though coming to a joint decision, they charged, their lances aimed at the stranger’s heart. But in a single smooth motion the oak-leaf man whirled, and the heads of all those lances, cut clean away, fell in a clatter upon the floor. The men-at-arms stood holding nothing more than shortened poles. One guard tried to use his as a club, but his foe kicked him hard in the stomach, sending him sprawling to his back.

  The oak-leaf man turned then to Eliana and swept the mask from his face. She gazed into those brilliant green eyes and . . . and . . .

  Something amazing took place!

  Her mother’s love, contained in physical form both in the necklace and the ring, burned bright, filling her up from the inside out. But another love blazed even brighter.

  The combined tears of a mortal maid and a faerie man, mingled together in perfect purity. The tears she had shed in heartbreak—the tears he had shed in his need to mend her broken heart.

  The eyes of Eliana and the nameless faerie met across that little distance between them. And each saw home in the other’s gaze.

  Eliana tossed her own mask aside and gathered up her golden skirts. Oblivious to all else—to the roaring of the king, to the screams of her stepmother, to the amazed voices of all the gathered crowd—she sprang forward and caught the nameless faerie by both hands. Tears fell from her eyes and from his eyes as well, and as she put her face close to his, those tears mingled and shone like the most brilliant of crystals, but full of life.

  King Oberon’s enchantment broke. She knew who he was.

  “Dienw,” she said, laughing through her tears. She reached up to cup his cheek in her palm. “I name you Dienw, for you were nameless, but now you are no longer. Thus I name you, my love, and I claim you . . . forever!”

  He caught her in his arms, pressing her to his heart. Even as he did so, a powerful whirlwind spiraled down from the high ceiling above, dowsing all the candles and plunging the room into darkness. The assembled guests screamed, and many covered their faces, while others stared into the center of that maelstrom, where they saw the golden girl and her true love, holding each other close, caught up into the air itself, their hair and garments streaming.

  “Seize her! Seize her!” King Hendry shouted. But it was much too late for that.

  When the wind died away into no more than a whisper, the whole ballroom was as dark as a cave but for one pinpoint of brilliant light. A halo of white surrounded the perfect form of one small, gleaming glass slipper.

  But Eliana and Dienw were gone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Home

  At first Eliana was aware of nothing beyond the roaring rush in her ears and the spinning, spiraling sensation of an upward fall—a weird experience unlike anything she had ever imagined. But as frightful moments passed, she became conscious of her true love’s arms around her, holding her through this tumultuous journey. She felt his heartbeat against her cheek, felt the pressure of his hands on her back. She even thought she heard his voice murmuring into the top of her head, “Hold on, Eliana. We are almost there . . .”

  Then suddenly the whirlwind ceased and Eliana’s feet planted on solid ground, one foot still clad in the glass slipper, one bare, so that she stood at an awkward angle.

  She stood on the toes of her bare foot the next second, however, as her true love—her Dienw—caught her up and kissed her. And such a kiss it was! Full of purity and passion combined like their tears, a kiss that quite took away her breath. When he released her, she laughed then caught his face between her hands and gave him a sweet kiss of her own.

  “Well, I think that will be enough of that,” a thunderous voice boomed.

  A spike of dread shot through Eliana’s spine, and she pulled back from Dienw, whirling to face that voice, which she recognized at once. She had heard it once before, after all, back in the mortal world. Memory crashed down upon her, memory of a warlike figure bowed over her, mighty hands clutching her face. Memory of that same dreadful voice uttering a powerful faerie curse . . .

  Dienw’s hands caught Eliana by the upper arms and drew her against him. She took courage from his presence at her back. “My king,” the faerie captain said, “this is my beloved Eliana. She has named and claimed me as her own, even as I hoped.”

  Eliana’s blinking eyes took in her surroundings. She saw a court much grander, much larger, than any of the sights she had glimpsed at Craigbarr. And so much stranger! Chandeliers of pure crystal hung from the high ceilings, lit not by candles but by the gleaming crystals themselves. The floor at her feet was of polished marble inlaid with countless precious stones in patterns of the Hunt and the Dance and all the mad games best enjoyed by Oberon’s court.

  But more awful and beautiful than the surroundings themselves were the people—hundreds of strange, staring eyes in the faces of the most glorious assembly ever conceived. Some sprouted antlers from their foreheads, some antenna. Some blinked at her with faceted eyes like gemstones. They did not wear the gaudy finery Eliana had witnessed in the mortal world, for why should they ever want to? Their own beautifully proportioned limbs and exquisite faces were adornment enough, so they wore very simple robes of starlight and moonlight and moss and leaves. Eliana’s shining gold gown—spun though it was by faerie magic—seemed somehow tawdry in this setting.

  She wished she could turn and hide her face in Dienw’s chest. And yet . . . and yet another small part of her—a part growing stronger by the minute—did not fear these people, bizarre though they may at first seem. For a secret piece of her heart responded to the sight with a faint little whisper, saying These are your people, Eliana . . .

  More beautiful than all his subjects was the king himself on his high throne of antlers. He stood up now and descended the broad dais steps, his robes flowing behind him like billowing clouds. Eliana wanted to shut her eyes at the dread of his approach; but she bravely faced him, drawing strength from Dienw at her back.

  “So you have won her heart,” said Oberon, smiling grimly, a glint in his eye. “Well done, my captain. And I have fulfilled my part of our bargain as well and brought her here to my court.”

  “We shall be married at once,” Dienw said. Eliana felt her heart swell with joy at the confidence of his voice.

  But Oberon’s smile grew and his eye glinted still more brightly. “Ah, but are you not forgetting something? Will you so easily dismiss my sacred law?”

  Dienw’s fingers tightened on Eliana’s arms. She felt the fear that rippled through his spirit, and her own soul trembled in response, though she did not know why.

  “No mortal may set foot
in the Court of the Faerie King and live!” Oberon declared, flinging up his arm and pointing a long finger directly at Eliana’s heart. “The penalty for such a breach is death. So this girl—this infiltrator of my world—must forfeit her life!”

  Out of the shadows, dark figures moved. Figures in strange armor, holding strange weapons, closed in upon the two standing in the center of the court hall. Eliana drew a sharp breath, her heart stopping with a jarring thud against her breastbone. Dienw, quicker than thought, moved her around behind him and drew his sword once more. But he was only one against so many! Eliana had seen him fight mortals with ease, but could he fight off all of his own kind?

  “No, you mustn’t!” she exclaimed, catching hold of his shoulder. “I don’t want you to die as well!”

  Dienw shot a glance down at her, his whole heart shining in his face. “Do you think I want to live without you now?”

  Before Eliana could answer, the whole of the hall rang with bright, bell-like laughter. That laughter echoed against the walls and pillars, dancing down from the ceiling itself. At first Eliana thought that the whole court had erupted into mirth at the prospect of her looming fate. But then she realized that this laugh belonged to one person only.

  A great golden woman as tall as the king himself shouldered her way through the dark, warlike figures, dismissing them with little waves of her hand. “Oh, be off with you! Be off at once!” she cried merrily. “Go find some goblins to stick with those long lances!”

  King Oberon folded his arms, scowling at the golden lady. “What now, woman?” he snarled. “I’ve honored my part of the bargain. But it’s not my fault if you and my captain forgot the law in the midst of all your scheming!”

  “Sweetest love,” Titania cried, approaching her husband and clasping her hands theatrically over her heart. “Do you really think me such a simpleton as that? Take a moment and look at the girl properly. Look at her face! And if that is not enough to remind you, look at the necklace she wears and the ring on her finger. Look at them, husband of mine! Look at them closely!”