The Thirteenth Princess

by Nina Clare

  “My legs actually ache, as if I had been dancing all night!” cried Emerald.

  “And the music!” marvelled Amethyst. “So exquisite!”

  “How is it possible we all shared the same dream?” wondered Nel.

  “But, Princess, did you dream it too?” asked Peridot.

  I nodded happily. It was so good to see them all lit up again.

  “I do believe Beryl was in the dream,” said Emerald.

  “Yes, I remember her,” said Opal.

  “She was,” I said. “And so was I, but . . . It was not a dream!”

  They all stared at me. The laughter and joy fell away as though I had just reminded them of what they thought was reality—that their princes were lost to them.

  “Don’t be a silly goose,” said Diamond sadly. “Of course it was a dream. How could it be otherwise?”

  “Beryl told you they are still alive, remember? She said their bodies were never found—it is because they are being held in the very place we went to last night. Do you remember Beryl and me waking you up? Remember the door in the flagstone?”

  They all looked at me with confused faces.

  Almandine shook her head, “It is not possible it could be anything but a dream.” She sighed. “Though it felt so real. I actually woke up happy this morning. Until I remembered.”

  “It was real!” I insisted.

  They shook their heads and turned away from me as the light dwindled from their eyes again.

  “Oh, why can they not remember?” I asked Beryl when I had found her later that morning. She was sitting in one of our favourite spots, on a fallen tree trunk—which made a perfect seat—overlooking the farm meadows. She was watching the swallows darting their acrobatics across the grasses.

  “They will be gone soon,” she said, not answering me. “Soon it will be time to journey on.”

  “Why can they not believe me?” I asked.

  Why was she concerned with swallows at a time like this?

  “They are not awake enough yet,” she said. “It is a kind of dream world the princes are trapped in.”

  “But I can remember it, and so can you.”

  “Your mind is more open to possibilities outside of what is considered rational. Your sisters will awaken little by little, each time they go. It is vital they keep meeting their princes to weaken the enchantment. When they all fully awake, then the curse holding the princes will be broken and they can be brought back into the real world.”

  I sat beside her and puzzled over what she had said. At the same time, I was struggling to stifle yawns.

  “Perhaps you should stay in bed tonight and rest,” Beryl suggested, observing my facial contortions.

  “And miss the magical trees and the boat journey and the music and dancing?”

  Beryl smiled at me, but it was a weary smile. I noticed how tired she looked herself. Beryl was never tired—except when she had to expend her power.

  “Does it take a lot of your power for us to go there?” I asked.

  “It does take power. I have to cloak you all in invisibility, for I am certain he can see in part into what he has made.”

  “How does he see? Are there ancient windows as well as doors?”

  “Something like that.”

  We sat together awhile and watched the swallows.

  “They will be gone soon,” she said again. “They know when their time is drawing to a close and it is time to move on.”

  She said this in such a nostalgic tone that it caught at my heart. I could not say why, but in that moment, with the scent of the end of summer in the air and the flitting swallows who would soon leave our sight for another year, I felt a premonition in her words. It was as though she were trying to prepare me, to forewarn me.

  I returned listlessly to our chambers, feeling burdened by a new sadness that, coupled with the tiredness, made me feel as though I were wearing a cloak of heaviness over my soul. Before I had even fully entered, Cornelia and Amethyst grabbed hold of my hands and pulled me across the room.

  “Come and see!” they urged.

  “See what?”

  “Show her, Em!”

  Emerald held up a pair of slippers.

  “And look at these!” demanded Heliodor, likewise holding up her slippers.

  “And mine!” cried Peridot and Celestine in unison.

  I shook my head, my thoughts still full of autumnal leaves and swallows and the end of things.

  “Look at the soles!” said Diamond, holding up her slippers. The soles of both her slippers had small holes worn in them.

  “You have worn them through,” I said simply.

  “We have all worn our slippers through,” replied Diamond. “But how? They were good as new yesterday!”

  “It was the dancing. I do not know how long we were there last night. It is as though there is no sense of time there, but we danced and danced.”

  Diamond stared at me and then stared at her slippers. All my sisters stared at one another.

  “We must have been dancing in our sleep,” said Sapphire finally.

  “Yes,” replied Almandine slowly. “It is the only logical explanation.”

  “Oh, you and your logical explanations!” I burst out, tired and vexed. I left them and went to my chamber.

  ***

  Beryl woke me, and I was ready. I put my slippers on and followed her to awaken my sisters. The drapes at the window were pulled back. When my sisters stood dazedly in the moonlight, Beryl pressed on the white shell dove. The pale flagstone quivered and moved slowly and silently away. One by one, we stepped into the ancient doorway.

  I danced all night. Round and round the marble floor of the black opal castle I whirled and stepped and spun. The six young boys with blank, glassy eyes served us wine when the music paused. The music played without flaw, and we danced and danced until the music ceased and our feet were released from the spell.

  The princes rowed us back across the still lake. We walked back through the changing lights in the avenues of trees. I was last in the line of walkers, and Celestine was before me.

  As we passed through the avenue of diamond trees she turned to me and smiled dreamily. “Do we not look lovely all covered in rainbows?” she said. She reached out her hand and touched the glass berries that looked so like diamonds.

  “Take one,” I told her, “so you will remember tomorrow.”

  She smiled again and took one, snapping its glass stem, which was as fine as silk thread. She held the berry carefully in her hand as we ran to catch up with the others.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I knew by the slant of light it was late morning again. Rose had awakened me and was arranging my breakfast. Even in my sleepy state, I could tell she was upset. I sat up and rubbed my tired eyes.

  “What is wrong, Rose?”

  She glanced up in surprise, clearly unaware her concern was showing on her face.

  “Oh, Princess, it’s just my worries over Jem,” she said sadly. “I saw him this morning. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since we met in the orchard. He’s worse than ever. He’s so different.” She blinked back tears.

  “You must try not to worry, Rose. Beryl is working hard to break the influence affecting him. When the princes are freed, Uncle will be deposed and Jem will be released too.”

  “I hope it won’t be long, then,” she said, dabbing her eyes with her apron.

  “So do I,” I said wholeheartedly. “Are my sisters awake?”

  “I believe so. Are you sure you are not all unwell? It’s almost midday again.”

  “We are not sleeping much at night, that is all.”

  Rose was preparing my gown, smoothing out the creases. “Oh, Princess!” she exclaimed moments later. “Your slippers!” She held up my grey kid slippers. “The soles are worn through again, and the new pairs haven’t been made up yet.”

  “What a nuisance.”

  “I’ll take them to the shoemaker to be patched and tell them you need ne
w ones straight away.”

  She hurried off, taking my danced-out slippers with her. I breakfasted and then washed from the basin of warm, scented water. I cleaned my teeth with the rosemary-and-anise powder. Then I sat barefoot at my little desk, took up a sheet of paper, and laid it out. I opened the wax seal on a new jar of ink and smoothed the feather of my sharpened goose quill. I dipped it in the ink and began to draw out a map of the land beneath the hidden, ancient door.

  Rose returned with my patched-up slippers as I was depicting the avenue of diamond trees.

  “There was a such a line waiting at the shoemaker’s,” she said.

  “There was?” I said distractedly. I was trying to depict how the branches of the trees arched up in perfectly symmetrical curves. Not at all like real trees, but lovely to look at.

  “All of us ladies’ maids were there.”

  “You were?”

  The leaves lay in ordered rows, each one the thinness of a real leaf.

  “All of your sisters’ slippers needed patching up again as well—for the second time in two days!”

  “Yes, I am not surprised,” I said absently.

  “You’re not? But how has it happened, when they have rarely left their chambers since the princes were . . . lost?”

  I looked up, my quill poised in mid air, “We were . . . dancing.”

  “Dancing?”

  “It is difficult to explain, Rose. Even my sisters do not understand what is happening.” Rose looked as troubled by that statement as she did when words like faery and sorcerer were mentioned, but she asked no more questions.

  When the maids had left, I went to my sisters. They all looked expectantly at me, as though they had been waiting for me.

  “Did you dream the same dream again?” asked Chalcedony.

  “Yes.”

  “How peculiar to have the same dream twice,” said Nel.

  “Do you still think it was more than just a dream?” said Cornelia tentatively.

  “Yes.”

  “It is so strange,” said Opal.

  “I think it is fearfully strange,” said Almandine, with a little shiver. “And yet, it was so wonderful while it lasted—I was dancing with Laz. And my legs do so ache this morning, just as if I had truly been to a ball last night.”

  “But our slippers?” said Amethyst. “They have been worn through again in the night. Are yours worn through, Princess?”

  I nodded.

  “I told you,” said Emerald firmly. “We have been dancing in our sleep again. It is the grief. It makes us wish we were with our betrothed so much that we imagine they are with us as we dream.”

  “But all of us dreaming the same dream together . . .” said Diamond, her voice trailing away.

  “Can you not remember anything else?” I asked them. “Can you remember where we went?”

  They looked thoughtful. Amethyst shook her head. “I cannot remember where we went in the dream, I just remember dancing, and the music—wonderful music!”

  “Yes, I remember dreaming of music too!” said Chalcedony.

  “Anything else?” I urged. I so badly wanted them to remember. Beryl said they must awaken to the dream world to break the dream enchantment. Chalcedony and Amethyst shook their hazel curls.

  “Do you not recall where it was you danced, or how you got there?”

  They looked blankly at one another.

  “I do believe . . .” said Celestine thoughtfully, her large blue eyes gazing into the air as though she were seeing something invisible, “I believe I remember . . . trees.”

  “Yes!” I said. “What kind of trees?”

  She turned her blue eyes to me. “I remember . . . I think I remember . . . rainbows.”

  “Yes!” I cried, clapping my hands as if to applaud her right answer. “The trees cast rainbow colours over us—do you remember? The trees were like diamonds, and they sparkled light!”

  Celestine frowned with concentration. “I am not sure,” she said doubtfully.

  “Celestine, you took something from one of those trees. Do you remember that?”

  She gave me a puzzled look for a moment, then crossed the chamber to her canopied bed. She lifted up her pillow and took something from beneath it. She held it out in her hand, and we all crowded round to see. There in her palm lay a little clear berry, like a faceted diamond.

  My sisters gasped. The glass berry was passed around from hand to hand.

  “Do you believe me now?” I asked them.

  There was no reply from anyone for some moments.

  “Lapido has scores of these in the jewel house,” Sapphire said finally. “It must have come from there.”

  I flung my hands up, made a very unprincesslike expression of frustration, and left them to their rationalising and disbelief.

  “Oh, it is exasperating!” I complained to Beryl later. “Why can they not remember anything after two nights?”

  “It will come. In time.”

  Beryl was in her chamber, resting in her bed. She was propped up against the pillows with her eyes closed. I sat on the end of her bed enjoying the quietness, for there was always a feeling of peacefulness in Beryl’s chamber. I looked over at the chest that I knew housed all the wonderful boxes that were still a great mystery to me. I thought of the small ebony box from which I had taken the invisible cloak. I remembered the octagonal red box with a golden clasp, which contained a silver frame. A frame that looked like a mirror until I looked into it, and then I had seen not my own child’s face at that time, but the face of a young boy—a boy I had liked the look of.

  And in the chest I knew there was also the beautiful golden box with a painting of a tiger around it. Inside it I had found another round, polished wooden box with a perfectly round object inside, but I had not known what the object was. None of the other boxes had opened for me, no matter how hard I pried at them.. I wondered if Beryl would ever agree to tell me what they were. But I knew now was not the time to ask.

  I turned my thoughts away from the mystery of the boxes and back to the riddle of my sisters.

  “They do not even remember us waking them up. They think it was all part of the dream,” I said gloomily.

  “Such is the nature of the enchantment,” said Beryl, her eyes still closed.

  “It must be a powerful enchantment.”

  “Not as powerful as you might think. He has only borrowed and reused what was already there. He has changed forms, but he cannot make anything new of itself.”

  “Are there other such places?” I had been daydreaming much of late about how exciting it would be to find other hidden places no one had ever seen. Ancient places to explore and chart and map out. I could make an atlas of my own . . .

  “Yes,” said Beryl.

  “Really? And can they be found?”

  Beryl opened her eyes. “Have you ever wondered where all the places you visit when you dream are?”

  “I thought they were just in my imagination.”

  “But what is called the imagination?”

  “Well, it is part of the mind.”

  “And do we comprehend all that happens in the mind when we sleep?”

  “No.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Exactly . . . what?” I did not understand, but Beryl had closed her eyes again and lifted a palm up to signal I was to cease from asking further questions.

  She did look tired. She often looked tired these days. It was not just because we had been making nightly trips through the secret door, it was something more. She was using up power to enable us to go there, and who knew what else she did? Sometimes I felt I only knew a tiny part of who Beryl was and all that she did.

  My sisters must awaken soon. The princes must be freed soon. Beryl must return to her usual self and be the Beryl she had always been. I wanted my sisters back, and I needed Beryl back.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  For the third night, we stood around the flagstone.

  Before Beryl pressed on the shel
l dove, she said in her authoritative voice, the one it was impossible to ignore: “Open your minds to what you are about to see. You must awaken—awaken by degree!”

  My sisters nodded obediently. One by one they stepped through the door after Beryl, and the darkness covered them from the waking world.

  I found I felt a little more real, a little more solid, in the dream world than I had before. I danced. We all danced. We danced and danced till the irresistible music stopped and we could dance no more.

  “You will come again tomorrow?” I heard Andra ask Diamond as he helped her from the swan boat. Diamond smiled in reply, her eyes glassy. She had not really understood.

  “Yes,” I heard Beryl answer him. “You remember. We came before?”

  “I do,” replied Andra.

  “That is good. That is very good.”

  I understood it meant that Andra had awakened by a degree if he could remember we had been before.

  Celestine walked in front of me again. “Look, Celestine!” I said as we walked through the golden tunnel. “What can you see?”

  She turned to me. “Trees . . .” she said vaguely.

  “What kind of trees?”

  “Golden trees.”

  “Take one of the leaves, Celestine.”

  She stopped, reached out to a low branch, and snapped off a delicate leaf by the stem. She held it carefully all the way back to our bedchambers.

  ***

  Rose was stood at my tiny window, folding back the shutters and letting autumnal sunshine stream in. I squinted at the golden light.

  “I have brought your new slippers, Princess,” she said, seeing I was now awake. “They are a lovely shade of blue—look!”

  “Did I wear mine out again?”

  “Yes you did, and so did all the princesses. There is such talk of it amongst the maids—no one can imagine what it is you have all been doing.”

  My sisters looked at me with uncertainty that morning. I knew they had been discussing the mystery of their slippers and their aching legs again. They knew I would insist it was not a dream, and they could not accept that yet. So they asked me no questions.

  “Did you find something under your pillow when you woke, Celestine?” I asked, just before I left in search of Beryl.