The Surrender of Sleeping Beauty

by Lidiya Foxglove

  So many lessons! I hated them and was always being scolded for not paying attention. My ‘gift’ of a quick mind seemed like much more of a curse. It had not manifested itself in any particular brilliance, only that I was always restless and would rather play with dogs or small children or go riding with my brothers or put on plays (but not so much the rehearsals).

  Once the marriage was set, King Emriel made it clear that I must be ready to join his court. I had to study the faery language until I was fluent enough to write proper letters to my husband, although even then, my tutor supervised every letter I wrote.

  “The letters may be seen by others besides the prince,” he said. “So you must write them as if the entire court will read them.”

  He was from the court of Ellurine himself, so he knew these things.

  I hated writing letters, too—most especially in the faery language for the whole court to read.

  I had to have my teeth straightened by a faery sorceress—not without pain, might I add!—and change the way I wore my hair, and learn how to walk and dance.

  “In the Palace of the Sun, they do not walk, they glide,” he said. Many of our exchanges went like this:

  “I am gliding!”

  “No, you are not.”

  “Then…what am I doing wrong?”

  “Your steps fall too heavily.”

  “I was enchanted with grace! How can I possibly walk too heavily?”

  “Yes, Princess, you are very graceful, no one would dispute that, but you are graceful like a leaf tumbling around in the wind. You dash and spring and leap. You should be as slender and gentle as a willow tree swaying, while still remaining confident in its position on the earth.”

  “I don’t know what you mean!”

  But somehow, day by day, he was a little more satisfied with me and one fine day he pronounced that I would be the most graceful young woman in all of Ellurine.

  “They won’t be able to tear their eyes from you. I’m sure they will be most pleased with this alliance. The faeries love nothing more than a women who is beautiful not just in face, but in every fine gesture. Even as you age you will never lose this kind of beauty.”

  An entirely new wardrobe was purchased for me, all made in Ellurine according to their court fashions. Each one arrived, wrapped in soft paper and perfume, heavy with silk and brocade. I was not allowed to put them on until I had crossed the borders, but I was allowed to look at them, along with my friends, and it was a terrific pastime for us. I had thirty-six new gowns, which seemed an astonishing amount even for a princess, but that was the number recommended by the king.

  “They remind me of Yirvagnan fashions!” said Caroline, a dear friend of mine who was about to be married herself.

  “Oh, no,” I said. “They’re even finer than Yirvagnan fashions. The finest in the world.”

  Caroline rolled her eyes at me, but it was true. Everyone spoke of the beauty of faery clothes.

  Even as I admired the expensive clothes, I couldn’t help but notice that they were far more elaborate than anything I was used to wearing, so heavy in my hands.

  “Fashion is power in the faery courts,” said Lady Bretta, who was older than the rest of us.

  “Yes…my mother said it will be very important there…” I did enjoy dressing up for the proper occasions, but I started to feel a little quiver of misgiving. I wasn’t sure how I would feel, wearing so many elaborate gowns so often. I wondered if I would still be allowed to ride horses.

  As my command of the faery tongue improved, Prince Augustus was starting to write me longer letters. They had a royal sort of detachment, and he often confessed that he didn’t know how to express himself in words to a woman he had never met. But he offered me plenty of detail about what to expect.

  Fashion is very important here. As a child, I resisted it, and still find it cumbersome, but I have learned the purpose behind it all. In this palace, the sweeping skirt and the painted fan and the heeled slipper are not adornments, they are weapons. They are the tools we have used in rituals that keep the people calm and peaceful.

  In our hearts, we know we are ordinary, faltering beings, but as ridiculous as it seems, as much as it might go against our instinct, we must not let them know that. My great-great-grandfather discovered this fact two centuries ago. His queen saw the palace as a stage, and all of us as players. They set down the roles that we have played ever since: The King of the Sun, the Queen Who Bowed, and the beautiful court that surrounds us.

  People want to be ruled by gods, not mere mortals. They want the privilege of looking at us, but they don’t want us to be like them. We have to play our roles because they crave it with all their being. They feel safe in this, as if they are seeing a play they have seen before, and they know the heroes will triumph.

  A play. This made sense to me, that people would want to think of their rulers like they would a play. I did adore the theater; Ferdinand and some of our friends and I had just put on “The Witty Lord” for the servants. I was the loud-mouthed maid who kept accidentally sabotaging the lord’s attempts to woo the elegant young lady played by Caroline.

  But I wondered how I would feel if my entire life was a play. If my existence was a role that others had played before me. The Queen Who Bowed. By this time, I had heard the title a thousand times, and I never stopped to think about what it meant.

  The Queen Who Bowed…

  It didn’t sound like a strong role, although my prince said the queen was loved and revered by everyone, that her submission was considered the source of her strength.

  I had to bow because I was cursed, and yet I had made it past my sixteenth birthday and the curse had not claimed me. It was easy to forget that I lived in a kingdom that suffered for lack of spindles, and that was what kept me safe. It was easy to forget I wasn’t a normal princess, and resent that I couldn’t have had some other boy who clutched my portrait to his heart and thought of me always, instead of a reserved young man who wrote me long detailed letters about court etiquette and history.

  He sounds like a stick, I thought, and then tried to shove the thought aside.

  Caroline was married before me, and so I had a letter from her before I was to leave for my own marriage.

  Oh, my dearest Rose, I pray for you. I have been married for eight days now. I thought I would die, such suffering I have endured. I never expected the wedding night to be like that. Outwardly, I had to pretend I was happy but inside I have been consumed with dread every moment. I hesitated before posting this letter, but I see no way for any woman to avoid such suffering and so I would rather tell you that marriage would end in such pain and ugliness. I wish I had known so I would not feel so alone. God will carry you through.

  My hands were shaking as I read. My poor Caroline! And now I was heading into the fire myself. What did she mean by it all?

  I had to restrain myself from running to my mother and begging to back out of the marriage. My mother would not stand for that. I could just see the disappointment on her face. Every princess married. She was counting on me to make this alliance, and the faeries had taken a chance on a cursed girl.

  Whatever I was about to endure, I would have to do as Caroline did and pretend to be happy.

  The day seemed to come suddenly.

  For years now, I had yearned for the day when I would finally become a woman, and follow in the footsteps of my friends. Now, it felt too real and quite frightening. Ellurine’s borders brushed ours to the east, but my home would be far away. It was possible I would never return home again.

  King Emriel had sent a carriage to fetch me, and whispers preceded my exit to the courtyard from courtiers who had already peered out of windows or poked their head out the door to catch a glimpse. “It’s more like a jewel box than a carriage…!”

  I was clad in one of my new gowns, a simple one of virgin white with pink ribbon trim, and my favorite little dog was clutched in my shaking hands. Through the wavy glass of the tall windows, I saw a carria
ge that gleamed in the sun with huge plumes on top. My mother walked just ahead of me, a sedate figure in black, while my brother Ferdinand walked just beside me, a steady hand at my waist. My brothers were protective of me.

  The great doors swung open, and a crowd was pressed around, waving handkerchiefs and tossing flowers, cheering for me, their princess. My people… I saw many familiar faces of friends and extended family, my old nurse and my tutor, everyone who had surrounded me with the love and protection that kept me safe from my curse.

  I smiled bravely, but suddenly I was terrified. All the training I had ever received seemed to fly out of me, leaving me empty. My mother turned and I saw tears in her eyes. I wanted to press myself into my brother’s arms. Instead, I put all my focus on standing up straight and not letting a single cry escape me. I clutched my little dog Mopsy, feeling her rapid animal breathing.

  The carriage was made all of glass and gold. I had never seen a carriage with such large windows, and certainly never one that gleamed like it had descended from the very heavens. The roof was adorned with plumes and flowers, and the interior was embroidered with the four seasons and bouquets of flowers. A team of eight white horses would carry me through the countryside.

  The roar of the celebratory crowd had dulled so I no longer heard it. My mother turned to me.

  “Rose,” she said. “Your new father, the king, will take good care of you. I’m assured of it. I can tell by his letters that he already adores you, and I’m sure your husband will adore you much more. Love them and obey them. You bear the hopes of our kingdom on your shoulders. Remember everything we’ve taught you.”

  “Yes, Mother,” I whispered.

  She pressed a little gold bracelet watch into my hand. “Write your mother every week, and know that my thoughts are never far from you.” She kissed my forehead.

  I bit my lip. I couldn’t embrace her. It wasn’t proper in front of the court.

  “We’re going to miss you, sis,” Ferdinand said into my ear. He could be a little less formal, and it helped calm me, but I also wondered if anyone would ever speak to me like that again.

  He swept me into the carriage. The door shut behind me. Now I heard the crowd cheer my name as the wheels started turning. My entire body clenched with pain as the carriage pulled away from my home. Thanks to all of the glass in the carriage, surrounding me on all sides, I could always be seen. The road was lined with well wishers. I wanted to cry, and I realized that I wasn’t going to have any true privacy. I had to choke back my tears.

  I didn’t realize, in the middle of my homesickness and pain, that even this was planned—my first test playing the role of princess in the Palace of the Sun.

  Chapter Three

  Rose

  It took almost two weeks to reach the border between our nations, and I swear I felt every step of it down to my bones. This was how far I was traveling from everything I had known. I had never seen so much of my own country, rolling green hills and little ramshackle farms and mountains and fields, and everywhere—people cheering me on, children staring wide-eyed at the faery carriage holding their princess. I didn’t want to disappoint them, so I waved and smiled, endlessly.

  The travel seemed to take long enough that the weather had changed from when I left; from a lingering gasp of winter’s cold at my departure to a fine May day when I arrived at the river that divided our countries. An islet stood between our nations, and my mother and King Emriel had decided on this spot for me to become a citizen of the faery nation.

  It was no small thing for a human girl to be accepted into a faery court. While humans and faeries sometimes married among the common folk—and indulged in a rendezvous even more often—royalty was another matter. The faeries preferred to marry among themselves and the elves.

  I’m sure it was only the fact that I had been given faery gifts that allowed them to accept me. Looking out at the tiny island, I already worried about living up to them. After all, my mother always fretted over the third gift, my quick mind, almost more than the curse. I didn’t expect the faeries to appreciate it either, considering that they expected such obedience from me.

  I am a princess. This is the fate of all princesses, I told myself. I owe it to my people to make them proud.

  I don’t know if it was much comfort.

  I stepped down from the carriage, following my attendants and guards across a footbridge to an elegant little wooden building that had been erected on the island. It was surrounded by trees and bushes that blocked my view of the opposite bank, but I caught glimpses of horses and carriages there.

  Inside the building, we walked down a short hallway and into a octagonal room which had been decorated in the Osterian style—relative austere, with forest motifs of pinecones and stags—on my side of the room. On the other side, the suns and griffons of Ellurine were painted on the walls, and everything seemed lighter and more delicate.

  The faeries themselves, however, were not as delicate as their clothes.

  A tall faery man watched me enter, and I knew instantly he was my prince.

  He looked much like his portrait, except that his presence could never have been conveyed in a miniature. He seemed to fill the room, standing tall and broad in his scarlet coat with a ceremonial sword at his waist. His thick dark hair had grown a little, and curled less at this length, but it still held a untamed aspect as it fell to his collar, a style no human would ever sport. His eyes were blue and yet shadowed and intense, and his mouth was full and sensual with slightly pointed teeth. He looked as dangerous as any man of my fantasies, and ten times more beautiful.

  I suddenly understood completely why my mother didn’t want to hand me over to this man at the age of fifteen. I think I would have fainted. How could he be a mere two years older than me? He looked so knowing, so assured. I couldn’t stop gaping, raking my eyes over the way the refined shape of his slightly pointed ears led to the graceful line of his cheek and jaw, and the shape of his calves in tight leather boots, almost feminine in the beauty of their curves, but far too muscular to belong to a woman. One of my friends once told me that faeries had beautiful legs because they had slender ankles. Maybe that was it. I would have had to compare his ankles to a human man to be sure.

  My mind was wandering. I had to compose myself. I lowered my eyelids demurely, forcing myself to stop staring, and curtseyed.

  He stayed several steps back from the split in the room, and bowed to me.

  “Princess Marie Rose of Osteria,” he said. “Welcome to Ellurine. I’ve been waiting for this day.”

  “Me too,” I said, almost in a whisper. “I am honored to meet you at last.”

  He smiled and I almost lost my wits all over again. His smile was broad and genuine, and it seemed to bring a spark to his eyes. But as soon as it faded, the intensity of his eyes fixed me in place. It was a smile I’m not sure he meant to make.

  I was still thinking of Caroline’s letter. It was hard to believe any wedding night with such a beautiful man would be too awful, but on the other hand…I had never seen anyone so intimidating. Something in the way he looked at me made me understand instantly that I would no longer have any control over my own fate. I was his now.

  “Before you cross the border, as per custom, you must leave everything behind,” he said, nodding at my attendants. He motioned with one sharp flick of a hand, and an older faery woman stepped forward to my side. “This is the Countess Noria,” he said. “She will oversee your wardrobe now. Your ladies may undress you for her.”

  Countess Noria was tall and elegant, a classic faery beauty, although past her prime. Her hair had turned white but was still smooth and immaculate, tucked up into a lace cap. Two younger attendants came with her. All three of them curtseyed.

  “But this dress was made in Ellurine,” I said.

  “It doesn’t matter; it’s the custom.”

  My own ladies looked eager to disrobe me. They would probably get to keep the clothes; no one else in the royal family would w
ear a dress made for me, and servants always took our discards. I often gave my favorite pieces to my favorite handmaiden, but she wasn’t with me today. Four pairs of quick hands beginning to unfasten the pins in my hair and the hooks at the back of my dress as the other girl reached for Mopsy.

  “No!” I clutched the dog to me. “Not my dog!”

  “Leave her the dog,” Prince Augustus said.

  An older man behind him cleared his throat. “Your Highness, it is the custom that she leave everything behind. Including dogs.”

  I saw Augustus’ expression turn fierce and he was about to speak, and the old faery said coolly, “She can have a hundred dogs of Ellurine, but not a dog of Osteria.”

  There was a weight to his words, as if a dog was not just a dog, but a symbol. I guess everything was a symbol if you looked at it the right way.

  I could see Augustus still wanted to stand up for me, and I was grateful, but Mopsy was pulled from my arms all the same. In the commotion of the dog being taken away, I quickly pulled the watch bracelet my mother had given me off of my wrist and closed it up in my hand. Maybe they wouldn’t notice. My hands were clenched into fists anyway. My lower lip trembled, and I forced it to stop. The women were stripping my clothes off my body.

  “I’m keeping this,” one of them said, wrestling my skirt away from another girl’s grip.

  “I have seniority over you! I should be allowed to keep her dress!”

  Countess Noria said sharply, “Sort that out amongst yourselves later. Your mistress is cold.”

  Soon I would be down to my underthings. I was so distressed hearing Mopsy whine with despair that I hardly remembered to be embarrassed, but then I looked up and saw the line of strangers watching me.