The Thirteenth Princess

by Nina Clare

  Celestine looked disconcerted.

  “Why, yes. I did find something under my pillow. How did you know?” She took a golden leaf from the pocket inside her gown and showed it to me.

  “Do you remember taking it from one of the trees?”

  She looked down at the leaf, as if thinking hard. Then she shook her hazel curls.

  I sighed and left the chamber.

  ***

  The days and nights took on a new and unnatural rhythm. A week had passed since we had begun journeying nightly through the moonlit door. By night, we danced for hours and hours, thought it seemed as no time at all. By day, we slept—half the day only to rise tired and weary. The days began to feel strange, as if the dream world was seeping into the waking world of our lives. My sisters began to look dazed both by day and night. Beryl grew wearier. Everything felt disordered and out of balance. Every day I longed more deeply for the enchantment to end.

  Rose told me the whole palace was full of talk and gossip about our unnatural patterns of sleeping and our worn-out slippers. Even outside the palace walls, the people of the kingdom talked of it and wondered about us. Although Uncle never paid attention to us, surely it would only be a matter of time until he heard of the talk. Would he guess it was to do with the enchantment? What would he say? What would he do?

  ***

  “We cannot visit the princes this night, nor for the next night or two,” said Beryl. We were walking the grounds. “It is a new moon. There will not be enough moonlight to open the door.”

  “At least we can all sleep for a few nights,” I said with a yawn that ended with a sigh.

  “You look pale, dear,” said Beryl, examining my face with its plum-coloured shadows beneath my eyes. “I wonder if I have tried to do too much this time,” she said. “The enchantment holds fast while your vitality slips away like a waning moon.”

  “If only my sisters would awaken so it could end.”

  “Yes,” agreed Beryl. “There is no other way. It must happen soon. Sometimes awakenings come unexpectedly, like a flickering of the soul’s eyelids, and suddenly we see what for so long we did not. A door of the mind closed fast can open wide in a moment. We must be patient with them.”

  ***

  I could not sleep. My body had gotten used to being awake all night, so I lay staring into the moonless dark. My bedchamber curtain was open and I could hear my sisters tossing and turning in their beds. They could not sleep either.

  I heard the bugle of the night watchman sounding out the second watch. I heard a pair of owls calling to each other. I heard the faint whinnying of the horses in the stables. I heard the distant sound of the hunting dogs barking in their kennels.

  And then I heard the sound of the bedchamber door being forcibly opened and one of my sisters crying out in alarm.

  I jumped out of bed and darted to my door. I could make out the broad shape of a man standing in the doorway to our chamber. The lamp he held cast his scowling face in contorting shadows.

  It was Uncle.

  He marched into our bedchamber and strode from bed to bed, pausing at the foot of each one and lifting up his lamp to peer beneath its canopy. My sisters shrank back from his surly face and his bright light.

  “One. Two. Three. Four . . .” he growled, counting as he went from bed to bed. He reached Celestine in the farthest bed from the door. She sat up, pulling her cover up to her chin, her blue eyes larger than ever as she stared at Uncle in fear.

  “Twelve!” cried Uncle. He looked around him wildly, “Where’s the odd one?”

  I came forward.

  He sneered at me. “So. You’re all here.” He swept his lamp around the room. “So where do you go?”

  My sisters shook their heads.

  “Go where?” said Diamond. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t take me for a fool! You wear out thirteen pairs of slippers every night. Where do you go?” He stalked round the chamber, waving his lamp to peer into the corners. He tugged back the drapes at the windows. He barged into my little antechamber, almost pushing Captain Heliotrope off the table. I remembered my own map of the secret world, and I held my breath to see if Uncle would notice it on my desk. He did see it, but paid no attention. He stomped back out of my chamber, glaring at me as he passed.

  “I know you’re all up to something. I know you go somewhere at night. Don’t think you can make a fool of me. I’ll find out what your secret is.”

  He pulled something from the purse hanging from his belt and held it up for us to see. It was something shiny, and it gleamed in the lamplight. It was a large key.

  “You won’t leave this chamber again without me knowing about it—you’ll stay locked up until you tell me the truth!” He spun round and stomped, heavy-footed, out of the room. He slammed the door behind him and locked it with the key.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Breakfast was late the next morning. Our maids had to wait in a line outside our chambers until Uncle sent Master Han with the key. Rose was the last maid in line to hurry in with my breakfast.

  “I’m so sorry the king has found out about the slippers,” she said, her face full of concern. “He’s so angry!”

  “It was inevitable he would hear of it.”

  “He’s been having lots of meetings with the Lord High Chancellor,” she said as she laid out my clothes. “Things are getting very bad again in the kingdom. I think there’s going to be terrible trouble if something doesn’t change.”

  Rose had just finished plaiting my hair when the sound of a raised voice came from my sisters’ chamber—the sound of a man’s raised voice.

  “What is happening, Rose?”

  She peered round the curtain at the door.

  “It’s the king,” she said in a frightened voice. She drew her head back inside. She summoned up courage to peek round a second time. “And the Lord High Chancellor.”

  “The chancellor? In our chambers?” I exclaimed. No man, excepting the king himself, was permitted to enter our chambers—on pain of death. Something very serious must be happening.

  I could hear Uncle’s voice bellowing out: “Be gone! Go on—off with you!”

  “He’s ordering all the maids out,” said Rose over her shoulder. “I think I’d better go.”

  I nodded, and she hurried away. I followed her out and saw the chancellor standing in the doorway, looking distressed. His little round eyes blinked behind his little round glasses. He bobbed up and down in a kind of apologetic bow to us all.

  Beryl appeared behind him. I was so glad to see her. Uncle was glaring round, his black, grey-streaked beard quivering with anger.

  “Tell them!” Uncle ordered the chancellor.

  “Tell them?” echoed the chancellor squeakily.

  “Tell them!”

  The chancellor blinked so fast he looked as if were about to have a fit. He hopped from one foot to the other as though dancing on hot coals.

  “Your Highnesses . . . Princesses,” he began in a tight, high voice, “His Grace, the King by Temporal Crown Proxy, desires me to relate to you the news that things . . . that things are . . . that things are not as one would like things to be in the kingdom. The people . . . the people of our kingdom . . . they are not happy. They are not content. In short, the people are forging their farming tools into weapons even as we speak!”

  “But why do you tell us this?” asked Diamond. “What can we do?”

  “Well, Your Highness, there is but one way . . . but one way the kingdom can be . . . could be . . . spared from bloodshed.”

  He paused a moment, blinked hard, and pushed his glasses back up his nose.

  “There is . . . but one way the kingdom can be spared. And that is if the king would permit his eldest niece to be betrothed immediately and wed to another to provide a new king.”

  Diamond gave a cry of shock at these words. Nel and Almandine rushed to their triplet, each grasping one of her hands.

  “If a . . . if a proclamation is issued
to this effect, then I am sure . . . I am quite sure . . . that the rebellion will cease,” said the chancellor. “Otherwise . . . oh dear . . . otherwise I do not know what will happen!”

  Uncle emitted low growls as the chancellor delivered his stammering speech. He was prowling round him in a circle with his hands behind his back, his long, fur-lined cloak trailing like a wild animal behind him.

  “I’ll give them a proclamation if they so badly want one,” he said. “You can send out this as a proclamation: any prince who can tell me why my nieces’ slippers are worn through night after night, and can tell me where it is they go to wear them out can marry the eldest!”

  “And have the crown?” squeaked the chancellor.

  “And have the crown,” snarled Uncle. “But they get three nights to determine these two things, and no more. And if they fail—they will be executed!”

  The chancellor gave an appalled gasp. My sisters gasped in horror as well. I gasped in dismay.

  “And I want that in writing!”

  Diamond had collapsed onto her bed with her head in her hands. “I will not marry another! I will not!” she wailed.

  “If any prince is fool enough to try, then he’ll have to stay close by to keep watch on you all,” Uncle was saying. He pointed at my little antechamber. “He’ll stay in there.”

  “We cannot sleep with a strange man in our chamber!” my sisters cried out in unified dismay.

  “You will stay here as well, and chaperone,” said Uncle, pointing at Beryl.

  Beryl looked at him. His gaze flickered away as he repeated in a more respectful tone, “You will chaperone.”

  “Do not worry, girls,” said Beryl. “I would never let harm come to you. I will be right here. Every night.”

  The proclamation was sent out. The envoys were dispatched to all kingdoms. Any prince who could solve the mystery of our worn-out slippers and tell the king where it was we went at night could marry Diamond and take the crown.

  ***

  “What man would be foolish enough to risk his life?” asked Opal that evening. We were all still stunned by the events of the day. Our chamber door was kept locked on Uncle’s orders, except to allow our maids in and out. We were only permitted to leave our chamber for supper and for a daily walk within the gardens—under the supervision of a senior servant. Every servant had been threatened with the most severe of punishments for letting us out of their sight.

  If life seemed difficult before, then it was truly awful now. We were prisoners, and Uncle vowed this was how things would stay until he learned the truth.

  Beryl said he must suspect our mysterious nocturnal wanderings had something to do with the missing princes. She said he was acting like a cornered animal.

  “How can Uncle be so cruel?” lamented Heliodor. “How could he force poor Diamond into a marriage when she has not even mourned the loss of Andra?”

  “Do you think there can be any hope of them being alive, as Beryl believes?” asked Peridot, sadly.

  “But if they are—who would make them seem dead? Such a wicked trick!” questioned Almandine.

  “Who but Uncle?” said Emerald.

  “I know it is fanciful,” sighed Nel, “and I am not usually given to fancies, but all the dreams we had been having—dreams where I danced with Spessartine–I cannot help feeling as though he really is alive. I feel in some strange, fanciful way I do not understand that he lives.”

  “I do understand,” said Chalcedony. “It is as if I do not just dream of Jasper in the nights, but as if I really meet with him.”

  “But these past two nights there have been no dreams, and our slippers have not worn out,” Sapphire reminded them.

  “That is true,” Chalcedony admitted with a look of hopelessness. “Perhaps the dreams and dancing in our sleep have now ceased. But I do so miss them.”

  “Perhaps we will dream of them again tonight,” said Amethyst wistfully.

  “Not tonight,” I told them.

  They looked at me.

  “How can you know that?” Celestine and Cornelia said together.

  “Because there will not be enough moonlight tonight.”

  They stared at me as if I had gone mad.

  “The door will not open without a beam of moonlight shining on it.”

  “What door?” asked Opal.

  “The hidden door that leads to where the princes are.”

  There was further silence. Diamond was the first to break it. She had barely said a word all day, so shocked was she by Uncle’s new decree. She looked up at the window opposite her bed. Shafts of soft sunlight were streaming through the leaded panes. Then Diamond looked at the white shell dove on her bedstead; it gleamed as the light fell upon it. She got up from the couch she had been curled up on and walked slowly to her bed. She bent down and pulled aside the fur rug at the foot of the bedstead. The sunlight reflected onto the pale flagstone beneath.

  I held my breath as I watched her. She stood up and turned around to look at me.

  “Do you remember?” I asked hopefully.

  She shook her head, her dark wavy hair gleaming with chestnut highlights in the rays of sunlight.

  “I do not know,” she said. “I do remember something. Something about moonlight, and the dove, and the flagstone . . .”

  Celestine went to stand by Diamond, her golden hair lit up like a fiery halo in the sunbeams.

  “Do you remember, Celestine?” I asked.

  Celestine put her hand into the hidden pocket of her gown and drew out the glass berry. The light from the window caught it as she held it up, casting rainbows from its facets. They danced across Diamond’s face as Celestine turned it.

  “Oh!” gasped Almandine as a rainbow rested on her forehead, “The rainbows—they remind me of something!”

  “Yes?” I urged.

  “Trees!” said Almandine.

  “Rainbow trees,” added Celestine.

  “No,” said Diamond, a look of realisation was dawning in her brown eyes, “not rainbow trees . . . but . . . diamond trees.”

  “Yes!” I said. “You remember!” I clapped my hands and jumped up and down in my excitement.

  Diamond shook her head again. “That is all I remember.”

  “It is a start!”

  “Oh, Princess, how I do so long for all you say to be true!” said Diamond.

  “But, Diamond, it is the truth! If only you could let go of all your old ideas about how you think things should be, you would remember everything! And when you do remember, the enchantment will be broken and the princes—Prince Andra and all the princes—will be freed! This nightmare will be over!”

  “Oh, Princess, this is going too far,” protested Emerald. “It is not a kindness to give Diamond false hope at a time like this; there are no such things as enchantments in the real world. You have been reading too many faery tales with that maid of yours.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  A few nights passed. The moon waxed large enough to cast a beam of light on the white dove again. And so our journeys through the moonlit door resumed.

  The next morning, the news of our worn-out slippers was reported to Uncle. The following night, the first questing prince was sent to try and solve the mystery—the mystery of us.

  We did not see him during the day. Rose told me he was called Prince Baryte from the kingdom of Baruvia. He had been one of the unsuccessful suitors in attendance at Diamond’s banquet. Uncle entertained him at supper that evening, no doubt to ensure the people could see he was meeting their demands to try and find a new bridegroom and king. We were not invited to dine publicly, for which we were very glad.

  Old Han’s wife brought the prince to us by candlelight. She led him into my little chamber—made ready for our unwanted guest—and then she shuffled out again, casting a sympathetic look at us and locking the door behind her.

  We watched the figure of the man as he disappeared into my chamber.

  Beryl produced a round silver tray bearing a d
ecanter of wine and a goblet.

  “This is for our guest,” she explained.

  “Let me carry it for you,” I offered.

  “I should take it,” said Diamond. “I am the eldest.”

  Beryl let her take it. We watched in silence as she solemnly carried it in to the prince.

  “What is he like?” whispered Cornelia when she returned. We were gathered around the fireplace, casting glances at my bedchamber as if we expected the prince to appear at any moment.

  “He is very young,” said Diamond. “He was very polite. I vaguely recall him from my ball.”

  “Poor man,” said Nel. “Uncle will have him executed after three nights.”

  “How awful,” said Amethyst. “Executed because of us.” Her eyes welled up with tears.

  “Do not fret, girls,” said Beryl in a low voice. “The executioner has not carried out any of Uncle’s orders for years now. The government has been superseding such orders for some time. The chancellor will ensure he leaves the palace safely.”

  “But does not Uncle notice they have not been executed?” asked Sapphire in surprise.

  “Your Uncle does not have the stomach for watching his executions be carried out. He only requires a cast of the hands of the condemned as proof.”

  “A cast of their hands?” said Heliodor. “Whatever for?”

  Beryl did not answer, but I immediately recalled the hand-shaped torches lining the corridor in Uncle’s chambers. No wonder they were so realistic.

  It was late, and the moon began to rise. Beryl and I had beds made up on the floor of the dressing antechamber. We lay down, though we did not sleep. All was quiet. No one chattered. The presence of the young man behind the curtain made us feel strange. We could hear the clink of the decanter on the edge of the goblet as he poured himself another drink. We could hear him turning on the bed. He coughed for some moments, as if his wine had gone down the wrong way. We heard his boots thud as he took them off and dropped them to the floor.

  The moon climbed higher. I could see Diamond’s bed through the open door of the dressing chamber. The moon was not quite high enough to shine down on the dove, but it would not be long now. I closed my eyes and rested while I could.