by Mary Dublin
In her feverish state, she rounded a familiar corner on the first floor of the castle and found herself taking the second door on the right, straight into the bedroom that had been provided for her. Daniel had chosen it himself. A beautiful view of the castle gardens revealed the last light of the sun.
Shutting the door with the last of her fleeing strength, she sank to the ground and curled into herself with a moan. Blinking hard, she found the dark space beneath the wooden frame of the grand bed calling to her. It would have to do.
Every muscle in her body protested as she crawled to the darkness and slid herself beneath. She tugged the skirt of her dress, ensuring she was completely out of sight before allowing herself to collapse, limbs throbbing.
Laying in the shadows, it was all too easy to be still and slip away.
Chapter
Two
She had traveled too far. It became apparent when none of the trees were recognizable. Knowing the way she came, she was far from lost, but her heart beat a little faster than usual with the unnerving thrill of being in unfamiliar territory.
Slowing her gossamer wings to a hover, Esmae perched on a branch and peered all around. The sun was high in the sky, sending streams of light between the oak leaves. She listened closely, having been following a noise—it sounded like a small, distressed animal.
Something wriggled on the fallen leaves far below at the base of a tree not far from hers. It looked to be a baby bird, and glancing higher, Esmae spotted an empty nest across the way.
She hesitated, formulating a rescue. The bird wouldn't hurt her, but if its parents returned, they certainly wouldn't appreciate finding their baby in her arms
Before she could steel herself to swoop in quickly, another sound entered her hearing. It was rhythmic, and far louder than anything dared to be in the wilderness. She eased sideways on the branch, relying on the leaves for cover as she looked around frantically for the source.
The ruckus charged into plain sight, and her heart leapt to her throat. Humans, at least six of them, all riding on black or white stallions. Now she was certain she had flown too far.
Esmae wouldn't have particularly minded humans if they weren't so incredibly large, so loud, and so heedless of what they destroyed to get what they wanted. Her only consolation was that the party appeared to be heading out of the woods, towards the human kingdom. These men were armored. Warriors, or knights. She didn't want them loitering anywhere near Evrosea.
Her heart pounded as masculine voices clamored near the forest floor. They paid no heed to where they led their horses, never expecting to find a little creature helpless on the ground. That baby bird was going to be trampled under hooves if she didn't get to it first. Despite her better judgement, she began to inch down towards lower branches.
"Whoa! Hold up, Amos," a man called out. Esmae froze, yanking a large leaf over her front. When she peeked out, she saw a man near the front of the traveling party had slowed to a stop. He pulled his horse around, causing the others to drift and slow as they each stopped their own stallions with grumbles of surprise.
"Are you alright, Daniel?" someone called out.
The man in question chuckled. "Are you going to ask me that every time we stop, Henry?"
"Why have we stopped?" A barrel-chested knight with a ginger beard thicker than his accent seemed more reluctant than most to halt his steed. "Some of us would like to be home in time for supper, Yer Highness."
Esmae raised her eyebrows, looking sharply back at the first man. That messy head of dark curls didn't strike her as a royal, but his authority was clear when he held up a hand for silence, and all five men held their tongues.
"Do you hear that?"
Esmae held her breath, fearing for a moment that the human—Daniel—was referring to her. Before she could consider that she hadn't made a sound, the baby bird began chirping again.
"There," the human declared, swinging one leg over the side of his horse and climbing down.
As Daniel's eyes locked onto the ground, Esmae felt fresh fear rise. She leaned out further with dismay to watch him approach the bird. "No, no, leave it alone," she whispered.
The poor thing must have been beside itself with terror as the human prince dropped to one knee before it. Esmae's fingers tightened on the leaf. Daniel reached for the bird, his gloved hands closing in from both sides to trap it.
She didn't want to know what a human would want with a helpless little animal, but she certainly couldn't fly off and pretend she hadn't seen anything. She had to say something.
The look on his face stopped her.
His expression was concerned. Gentle. His frown almost looked brooding, but he seemed to be concentrating.
Esmae glanced at the other humans, noticing some shared looks and a couple of them rolling their eyes. When she returned her gaze to Daniel, he was gingerly nudging his fingers beneath the bird. He muttered something that Esmae didn't catch, but his tone was one of comfort.
"We stopped for that shriveled little thing?"
"It's only a baby," Daniel chuckled, cradling the bird near his chest as he stood. "It's not his fault he's little."
Horses pawed impatiently at the dirt, mirroring the apprehension of their riders.
"Looks like a robin, or perhaps a jay. You plan to raise it like an owl?" An older knight leaned over the side of his horse to get a better look.
"I'd like to return it home," the prince corrected. "It can't have fallen far."
Esmae was nearly too late in ducking behind her leaf, for as Daniel said this, he raised his head to scan the treetops. She held her breath as she huddled behind the greenery, listening to the slow footsteps crunching closer.
"See? Just there."
She snuck the slightest glance over the edge of her leaf and immediately regretted it. Daniel stood right below on the roots of her tree, and the men that followed him all had their eyes upturned to the branches. She ducked back out of sight, feeling more and more trapped as the minutes ticked on.
"Might be better to leave it to the wild, Your Highness." This was one of the impatient voices. "Nature has a way of taking care of these things. Wolves and foxes and the like will make a good supper out of it."
"I'm sure the foxes will survive without this little one in their bellies," Daniel answered lightly.
The tree trembled, and Esmae's blood turned to ice. She didn't have to look down to know what this meant. The prince was climbing the tree himself. She really was trapped now.
Despite every instinct screaming to flee, she didn't dare move. All she could do was hold still and maintain her balance, but the shaking worsened by the second. A massive hand grasped at a branch within her line of sight,making her swallow a yelp of fear. Luckily, the branch brought the prince high enough to reach the nest.
Rife with nerves, Esmae could only stare, perplexed as she caught a limited glimpse of Daniel pulling his hand away from his chest to deposit the baby robin back into its nest. The little bird hadn't made another peep since being picked up. From what she could see, it was entirely unhurt.
"There we are." The prince's voice was a murmur, but it still seemed to rumble through Esmae.
As the tree began to shake again, her fear unknotted. Curiosity burned through her so fiercely that she nearly peeked out from behind her leaf before Daniel had reached the ground. When the shaking ceased, she inched her head to the side enough to glimpse the ground with one eye.
She had the most absurd desire to say something.
But a single glance at the other men was enough to stifle the urge. Besides, she couldn't predict the prince's feelings toward fairies based on how he treated a bird.
Still, there was no harm in getting a better look at him. She heard him land back on his feet with a solid thump. The prince dusted his hands off on a fine, fur-lined cloak. He raised his head to survey the nest from the ground, looking still so gentle and quite pleased with himself. His eyes were blindingly blue—she could see them from way up. He
looked young, but the shadow of scruff on his jaw marked him as a man. It was a very nice face, she decided, especially for a human.
One of the knights stirred his horse to approach the tree. It was the bearded one, and he craned his neck to squint alongside his prince. "Yer a kind heart, Yer Highness. Yer father, on the other hand, is not a patient man… And, as you know, supper—"
"Sir Logan," Daniel interrupted. He turned on his heel with a grin, striding back over to the horse that was held for him. "I swear on the stars that you can have my portion tonight if you shut up about supper for five minutes."
Soft chuckles rang out in the group. With Daniel mounted, everyone tensed their hands on the reins. Although Esmae braced herself, she flinched when the restless horses took off through the trees. The thunderous hoofbeats reverberated in all directions, and once they faded into the distance, the woods felt quieter than usual.
Fluttering across the branches, she alighted delicately beside the nest. The baby bird was huddled comfortably at the bottom. Esmae would have needed both arms to hold it; she bit back a shudder at the thought that the human needed only his hand. Only a few fingers, even.
Still, as she pulled away and pointed herself back toward Evrosea, she couldn't rid her thoughts of his face. He was enormous. Positively terrifying. But he had used that devastating strength to help a creature instead of hurt it.
A curious smile tugged at her lips.
Esmae decided she would make this part of the woods a little less unfamiliar in the future.
When she opened her eyes, the pain had passed. Where the floorboards had felt smooth before, she now felt grainy texture pricking at her exposed arms and cheek. The way the floor felt was the least of her worries compared to the way it shook.
Voices came from above, sounding hushed, yet she caught every word with no trouble.
"A terrible shame," a woman tutted. "She never should have been allowed to stay. Should have taken her to an inn until she was sorted out. Now look what's happened."
Esmae sat bolt upright and pressed a hand over her mouth to muffle a whimper as a massive pair of footsteps rattled the floor again. The hem of a servant's skirt brushed along the floor beyond the shadows of the bed. A sigh came from the other side. Esmae twisted around to find a second skirt hem.
"I never would have guessed." Arlette's voice, forlorn yet more intimidating than Esmae ever dreamed she would hear it.
Scooting closer to the wall, she did what she could to keep her dress from getting snagged in the splinters of the floorboards. Though it was too dark under the bed to see the color, she recognized the touch of the fabric; the red gown had shrunken down to fairy size with her, the same way the clothing she'd worn the night of her human transformation had grown with her.
The servants continued their murmured conversation overhead, but Esmae was far more concerned with getting out of the room. Sheets were heaped on the floor in front of the bed. They were cleaning out her room, ridding the castle of her existence for good. Surely they would be thorough enough to do a sweep under the bed as well.
Esmae bumped into the cold wall. The back of her gown dipped low enough that the top of her shoulder blades brushed directly against the wallpaper.
She stiffened. Her back shouldn't have been the first thing to make contact with the wall.
Her wings.
Cold air filled her lungs in a horrified gasp as she threw her hands behind her, searching her back up and down. No wings. Only dress fabric and smooth skin.
She curled her legs close and covered her mouth, shaking with terror and confusion. The spell will reverse, the witch had said.
Then why did she feel so human still?
Something was stirring inside her—the faintest glimmer of what she had been before the contract. But that was all. Her wings were gone. Whatever magic remained in her was so faint, she was sure it would disappear if she attempted even the simplest enchantment. And then she would truly be nothing.
Esmae jumped when one of the servants stepped unnervingly close to the bed again. The woman was merely walking, and that alone gave Esmae every instinct to run for her life. Fabric shook overhead, and pillowcases were added to the pile of linens on the floor.
It was only a matter of time. She needed to get away before she was spotted.
She turned her attention to the wall behind her, slamming her hands onto the wallpapered surface. Daniel's home was seemingly perfect in every respect, but Esmae knew that even in a palace, things could be overlooked. There had to be something—there. The wall bent inward under her minuscule weight, a crack at the base poorly hidden by the latest layer of wallpaper. Without delay, she tore at the covering. It was a small fissure in the wood, only wide enough for her to crawl through where the wall met the floor. But it was enough.
The floor shook again, and this time the entire frame of the bed with it. She disappeared into the fissure without hesitation. To her relief, she was able to stand once she crossed the threshold.
There were signs of small rodents living in the walls. Mice, perhaps, unused to socializing with sentient beings. She prayed not to cross paths with any of them, knowing they would not be as hospitable as the pets kept in Evrosea.
Even in the relative safety of the walls, there was no peace. Dull tremors were constantly rippling through the foundations. Fresh tears sparked in both eyes as she wandered in the dark, only able to guess which way was forward.
The hem of her fine dress caught on a nail as she rushed along. It tore with a sickening rip, causing her to stagger onto her rump. Esmae grasped the frayed edge with dismay. The only thing she had left of her time with Daniel, and she had already ruined it.
Sniffling, she picked herself up. If she raised her head now, she could see rich candlelight filtering in through thin cracks in the paneling. Just yesterday she had felt like the perfect fit to this palace. Now, she felt more akin to one of the skittish mice living in the walls.
She had to make it back to the forest. Once she found the witch, she could sort out this mess and get her wings back. It had to be a mistake.
It had to.
By the fourth day of scavenging, Esmae came to the dreadful realization that escaping the castle was not as straightforward as she first thought.
She sat cross legged underneath a bookshelf, desperately trying to piece together a plan. She had to think of something soon, positively miserable about the empty ache in her stomach.
Every human moved in their own rhythm. There was the frantic pace of the kitchen staff—always in a hurry, always muttering complaints under their breath. The scullion maids, on the other hand, shuffled their boots as though they could be in no hurry at all.
It wouldn't be much better out in the forest. The thought of making her way through the castle grounds was daunting enough. Out in the wilderness, animals were sure to take notice of a vulnerable creature more readily than these humans. She couldn't be sure she had the magic to defend herself all the way to the witch's hut, let alone find it with her drastic change of vantage point.
The world was so much more frightening from the ground. She needed her wings.
But first, she needed to eat. She had come across fallen scraps a couple times; a single grape from a massive bowl being carried down the hall, a crust of bread from a half-eaten dinner whisked away from one of the bedrooms. Her luck was running dry, though, and she had scarcely eaten since the night before.
She perked up, an idea striking. It wasn't easy to know the time, but dinner had to be at its end by now. If the scullion maids moved as slowly to clear the dining hall, perhaps Esmae could create her own luck.
Squeezing through a crack in the wall beneath the bookshelf, she navigated toward the grand dining hall.
It hadn't gotten any easier, becoming accustomed to the inner walls. She was on edge, ready to jump out of her skin at the slightest noise. A run-in with a rat the other day left her with a shallow cut on her forearm and an appreciation for her ability to duck into smal
ler tunnels where the larger rodents couldn't reach her. The hem of her dress was in tatters, and it seemed every journey through the walls earned her a new scrape or bruise.
This journey in particular would be worth it if she could ease the gnawing in her stomach.
She could smell the remnants of the meal in the dining hall long before she reached it. The promise of food made her dizzy with relief, as did the emptiness of the room when she peered through a corner crack. The long table was far away enough that she could glimpse platters and jugs left over from dinner. Surely something must have fallen during the meal.
After listening for a long, impatient moment to ensure she was alone, Esmae crawled out from the wall and began her search.
Crumbs scattered the carpet like confetti. She paused to consider a few of them, but most were too small even for her to make a proper bite out of. She felt secure enough to take a closer look once under the shelter of the grand table. Her persistence paid off: a single roasted potato lay forgotten between the legs of a chair. She sprinted for it gleefully, peeling back the skin to get at the fluffy meal waiting inside. It tasted of butter and rosemary as she pushed a handful into her mouth. It was even a little warm.
Content in the relief she wouldn't fall asleep hungry tonight, Esmae took a seat on the carpet and pulled her prize onto her lap. It was a luxury to be out of the walls, to be able to enjoy the splendor of the castle once more—even if it all was distorted and immense from a mouse's point of view. She planned to enjoy the silence here as long as she could, dreading the time when she would have to seek safety in isolation once more.
Pathetic or not, she couldn't stop thinking about her near-romance with Prince Daniel. About all of it. She smiled faintly, reminded vividly of her first meal in that very dining hall. It was incredible that she had fit these massive chairs so perfectly at the time.