Then we rose and left the temple. Although I had never done this before myself, I could feel the familiar trappings of ritual. Everything we did was planned and expected. Everything we laid eyes on was beautiful.
For some reason, I let out a small sigh. I suppose I expected Luminé to be different. Unkempt and wild, an untamed beast of a city.
We proceeded straight from this ceremony to the old palace, where the royals lived before the Palace of the Sun was built. Made of rough grey stone, with defensive towers, it was no gilded jewel box like my home. Inside, however, it still put on the same airs, the old stone walls covered up by painted wooden paneling; golden candelabras; statues of voluptuous dancing faery maidens wearing scant outfits.
“Your Highnesses…the people are waiting to greet you in the Court of Hours.”
We climbed stairs to a balcony overlooking the court. I heard a roar of voices even from a distance, and my mouth fell open when I saw the crowd. A sea of people spilled out far beyond the stone court, into streets beyond. I hoped no flowers had been growing in the courtyard, as they would have surely been trampled. There was not a single place to stand that wasn’t occupied by someone. Children were hoisted onto their parents shoulders. The people lifted hands to us, their faces joyful and even frenzied.
“I’ve—never seen it like this,” Augustus murmured. “Are they this happy my grandfather is dead?”
“The king did not always act with the best interests of the city in mind, some believe,” one of the advisors said, trying to be diplomatic.
“I see.” Augustus waved, and the roar of joy was almost deafening.
“Besides that,” said Count Mercinel, my own tutor, “they must be very excited to have a queen.”
I stepped forward and curtseyed from the balcony, lowering my head, and was greeted with another roar that brought a nervous smile to my lips. As the only princess of Osteria, I had always been admired. But I had never been adored like this.
I worried that the people would not accept a human queen, but it seemed that the word bleeding out of the palace was in my favor.
“They are all so impressed that you resisted the Cobblestone Witch and your own curse,” Mercinel told me during dinner. Just as at home, the crowds were permitted to enter the room as we ate and pass by behind a balustrade, watching us. The room was noisy with the din of voices. A very young girl sat practically at my feet with a wine skin, waiting for a word from Augustus to pour. I felt very bad for her. What kind of childhood was it to sit quietly for hours holding a wine skin? But it was clearly an honor and I’m sure any comment from me would be taken with offense.
“Well, it was nothing,” I said.
“It wasn’t nothing,” Mercinel said. “It shows that you share a true devotion to the prince. Add youth and beauty to the mix, and it’s no wonder the people are ecstatic.”
“We have not had a young king in so long,” added a lady with dark curls contained atop her head with strings of pearls. “Much less such a handsome one.”
“You flatter me,” Augustus said. I don’t think he liked such compliments very much. “If I’m remembered for anything, I hope it’s prudence with our out of control budget. Looks do fade, but wisdom only grows with time.”
I sensed the slightest ripple of displeasure around the table.
“I’d keep that talk to yourself for now,” the lady said. “The best way to manage the budget is not to mention it.”
I sensed my husband was faltering a bit on this elevated stage. He had been studying the kingdom for so long, wanting so earnestly to be a good king, that he might lose sight of what mattered—being a figure of strength and admiration. This was new to me too, but I had been here long enough to see how things worked. His job required him to put on a front, like a magician, managing the coffers with sleight of hand, never revealing any of the cracks behind the facade. It was a little surprising to me that he had made this mistake, but then again, it made sense. Augustus had no innate sense of showmanship.
I put a hand on his arm, keeping my eyes low. “My lord, could I be permitted another cup of wine?”
He glanced at me as if snapping out of some mental puzzle. “Ah—of course, my love.” He looked to the young girl who sprung to her feet immediately, filling my glass.
“Is this the girl who goes hunting with you?” One of the men gave me a sly smile. “Who would ever guess? She’s too perfect for words.”
“It does please me to take her hunting,” Augustus said, caressing my back. I sensed in his touch that he knew I had taken attention off of a misstep.
When we were back in the carriage after a dinner that seemed endless, he immediately caught my head in his hand and pressed a kiss to my forehead, and then my mouth. “My clever Rose…you saved my skin back there. I have been so caught up in facts and figures that I can hardly control myself to mention it, but that was the wrong company. When did you pick up diplomacy?”
“Diplomacy? Hardly that!” I laughed. “I guess it’s from all those wrangling with Madame Bariel if it’s anything. I just know how earnest you get and no one wants to hear that.”
“Not you either, eh?”
“I care about the concerns of the kingdom!” I protested. “But you care a little too much. I told you, it’ll all sort out. The kingdom can’t be in such bad shape. Everyone here seems happy and healthy.”
“It is true,” he said. “I was pretty astonished to see a crowd like that. The nobles of Luminé make me more nervous than the people, to be honest. They’re a different crowd than the nobles I deal with at home, and I suspect their sympathies lie with the old ways.”
“They seemed happy enough to see me play my part,” I said wryly. “Isn’t that typical? Always the princess who has to submit…”
“Well, you will be well rewarded on this occasion,” he said. “Now, for the opera and then the ball. A taste of freedom, for the both of us. Try not to get too drunk on it.”
Augustus and I were in perfect harmony, two people caught in our own world by true love, as we sat together in the carriage ride, but that state of things would be short lived.
Chapter Two
Rose
The opera was one of the most delightful experiences of my first year in the faery kingdom. While the Osterian operas were dramatic and brought me to tears, this music transported me into another world of ethereal beauty and wonder, the old faery world of song and dance and merriment, of moonlit nights that never seemed to end. The performers made me laugh and cry, and at the end of it all I leapt to my feet and clapped.
I butted against a startled silence, and Augustus caught my arm with a laugh. “This is not our custom here, my love,” he said.
But then, I heard a smattering of noise that quickly grew, and more audience members got to their feet. Some of the audience seemed to be clapping for me more so than the opera itself.
The faeries really do accept me as their future queen…
I could hardly believe it. When I accepted this marriage, I was afraid they would never accept a human queen, and when Madame Bariel tried to kick up scandal at court I worried my reputation would be tarnished.
I was wrong to worry. They were ready for a change, ready to embrace me as their own. After all of my struggles to accept the rules of the court, the etiquette, the tightly laced grand corps, the regimented schedule, the fact that I must obey and please my husband in all respects…for all these pains and humiliations, I was rewarded with not only his love, but the love of the people. My mother would be so proud. I could hardly wait to write and tell her.
“Just when I think you know how to play your part,” Augustus said as we left. He was carrying a dark bundle tucked under his arm. “Springing to your feet and making a commotion? You’re certainly lucky that one turned out or I think I’d have to remind you of your place.”
I stuck out the tip of my tongue. “Why do I get the feeling you’ll do it anyway?”
“I made a promise…”
“If
I behaved, you said.”
“Well, I’m feeling benevolent. Or…are you starting to miss it?”
“No,” I said quickly.
He unwrapped the bundle into two dark cloaks and two silken bags with some unknown object inside, stretching the fabric. He swept a cloak around my shoulders and pulled up the hood, covering my hair. “Have you heard of the Ball de Anon?”
“No.”
“It has been held every week since the royalty was established,” he said. “Despite their rigid society, the first king and queen wanted one place where they didn’t have to play their roles. In this place, all rules melt away. All hierarchies no longer exist. You are not the Queen Who Bowed anymore. You don’t have to do as I say, or in fact, as anyone says.”
My eyes widened. “And this is the ball we’re attending tonight? This sounds too good to be true!”
Augustus laughed. “I told you not to get drunk on it. But you can get drunk in general, if you like.”
I could hardly believe my ears. No rules, no hierarchies? I thought he was exaggerating. Surely everyone still followed many unspoken rules. I would have to be careful not to get ahead of myself.
We pulled up in front of a building in the heart of the city, where lights twinkled from all the tall windows, and drum beats drifted onto the street. Augustus put on his own cloak, and we walked through the doors into a very dark room. I could see other figures in the shadows, and heard ladies giggling. There were a dozen or so other people in the room entering the Ball de Anon. “Help me tie it on…” “Oof, sorry. It’s so dark in here.”
Augustus handed me one of the sacks. “Your mask.”
I slipped my hand into the bag and took out a mask formed from thin, supple wood. I could barely see, but I felt out the eye holes and the ridge where my nose went, and pressed it to my face. Immediately, the wood stretched out into thin vines that twined around the back of my head and held the mask firmly to my face.
“Oh my!” I exclaimed. I tried to pull it off.
“I gave it a little bit of magic,” Augustus said. “They stay on better while you’re dancing.”
We stumbled down the dim hall into another room, where guards took one look at us and swung open the doors. I wondered if they knew who we were. But our fine clothes alone were probably sufficient to allow entry.
Then again, perhaps not. Some of the dancers were scandalously underdressed, barefoot and wearing short dresses. We were swept forward into a huge dance floor swarming with faeries, as well as some other races, wildly dancing as if they had been here for hours already. Two tiers of balconies ringed the room above, where other guests talked and watched the festivities. A band of twelve musicians was playing frenzied music, the drums pounding, two fiddles dancing, an accordionist waiting for her turn. All the guests wore masks but many dresses and suits were in a state of disarray. Vests were left flung across chairs, shoes tumbled into corners, as if their owners never intended to retrieve them.
“Do as you please,” Augustus said. “Have a drink.”
“Really? I don’t have to worry over the curse?”
“Well, don’t tell anyone back home. But I’m not worried about the curse. The witch is gone, and do you see any spindles in here? I’m going to look for a friend of mine, and I’m sure I’ll find you.”
“Yes, have fun!” I was already drifting away from him and toward a group of women dancing alone, without male partners. I had never seen grown women dance by themselves. They were all barefoot, and I eagerly slipped out of my own shoes and shed my cloak, and joined them. One flung out a hand to me and we formed a circle as if by instinct, leaping around before parting again and bouncing our feet, weaving in and out. A ball and a bouquet of flowers were being bounced around from girl to girl. There seemed no need to ask questions about the why or how or anything. I could just do whatever I liked.
Even back home I had never seen anything like this. This was a taste of the faery kingdom as it once was, wild and free. How did Queen Marianna ever give this up to be the Queen Who Bowed? I wondered as my stocking feet scuffed lightly on parquet floors, my hands passing from stranger to stranger, surrounded by laughter and music.
A faery girl caught my hand and whispered in my ear, “You should come home with me, lovely. Come join the Wicked Revels.”
“You’re from the Wicked Revels?” I gasped. The Wicked Revels existed in a realm set slightly apart from the real world, untouched by wars, where time flowed differently. Sometimes the Revels lured in innocent young women. “I’m afraid I’m not an innocent.”
“You would make a perfect handmaiden for Queen Alexandra.”
I smiled coyly. Truly she had no idea who I was. “I’m afraid I’m not looking for a new position, but thank you.”
I don’t know how much time passed before I began to wonder where Augustus was. I don’t think I had ever gone so long without his presence since the day we met. At first there was some relief in being free from his demands, but that quickly turned to yearning, and then to concern.
If I was happy to be free of his demands, was he also happy to be free of needing to make those demands? And did that mean he was happy to be free of me?
I didn’t like that idea very much.
I scanned the room and the upper balconies. There must have been a thousand people in this room, and Augustus wore a mask like everyone else. I suddenly felt abandoned, and then annoyed. When I do find that man, he’s going to have to show me how much he missed me.
The dancers kept whirling around, wide skirts jostling mine, slowing my attempts to move through the room. A drop of wax fell onto my arm from one of the chandeliers above, glittering with candles. I thought I saw him on the balcony for a moment, but no, that man had a more hawkish nose.
I bumped into something solid.
“Oh—pardon me, sir.” I turned and slammed into the blue-gray eyes of a tall, fair man in a military officer’s uniform.
He could not have been more different from Augustus. Where my husband had dark curls, his hair was blonde, straight and soft, brushing his brow and ears above a mask of midnight blue. Augustus was not above a moment of wit but his demeanor was generally serious; this man already had humor in his smile, lightness in his eyes. They were both tall. I think Augustus was still taller, but the uniform coat of this handsome officer was definitely cut for broad shoulders that tapered to a trim waist and shapely legs in close-fit trousers and boots.
He was not a faery, I realized, but a high elf.
“No need to beg pardon,” he said. “It’s my pleasure, in fact. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a graceful dancer at the ball. Admittedly, I am not here often myself. You’re a human…aren’t you?”
“Half-human,” I blurted.
I don’t know why I lied. I don’t know why I suddenly didn’t want him to guess I was to be the Queen Who Bowed.
“And who taught you to dance like that?”
“I had a dance teacher.”
“He or she must have been splendid.”
“Or maybe I’m naturally talented. Humans can dance as well as elves, sir.”
He laughed. “That was rude of me. Although I beg to differ. I’ve never seen a human dance as well as a high elf until I saw you. I won’t apologize for the facts.”
“I’ve always heard you elves are arrogant.”
“All true. We have reason to be.”
“What brings you here, then?” I asked.
“Business. Seeking some aid for a little troll problem…” He started to stroll, and I followed, leaving my shoes behind for good.
“You’re from the far north, then. Trolls! How awful.”
“Yes, well.…they do trade excellent furs. When food gets a little scarce, well…at least when they tear you into two pieces, you’re dressed in the finest furs.” His chuckle was sardonic. “But what kind of conversation is this to start? I won’t ask your name. I have a sense you don’t want to give it. You’re a girl of secrets, I think.”
; I had no idea what gave him that impression. “You presume a lot.”
“A little presumption never hurt anyone,” he said.
“I don’t think that’s true!”
He took my hand and kissed the top. “But so far it hasn’t gotten me in much trouble. Who were you looking for just now?”
“No one! I mean, friends of mine. It doesn’t matter.” I was getting flustered, now feeling as if I should have been honest right away.
“Did you go to the opera this evening?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I thought so. It was a good one, wasn’t it?”
“It was all right,” I said.
“The faeries do better with opera than my people, I’ll give them that. Why that look? I’ll bet you clapped when the queen did, didn’t you?”
I flushed hot. “She isn’t the queen quite yet. Are you going to ask for her help with the troll problem?”
“I will certainly request an audience.” He swept two drinks from a passing tray and handed me one. “Do you think she’ll bother or does she have better things to do than worry over trolls?”
“How should I know? But I’m sure she wants strong neighbors to the north.”
“I think I’ll stay in town for a while then. See another opera or two.”
“It was almost as good as the work of Gluchen,” I said.
“Gluchen? That is pure melodrama,” he said.
“What? No, it’s beautiful! It will tear your heart to pieces. Well, maybe not you. You are a cold elf, after all…”
I talked to him for quite some time, I must admit, and it was also true that…perhaps I flirted with him more than I should.
I had never had a conversation like this with a man in my entire life. Back home, before my marriage, the men treated me like I was poisonous because of my curse. Then I was wed to Augustus and from the very first moment, our marriage was heaped with expectations. Right now, I had no sense of scrutiny at all, and the dance and drinks had loosened me so that I had no desire to inhibit myself. This mysterious man was so beautiful, and the entire encounter seemed like a dream.
The Surrender of Sleeping Beauty Page 16