Second Term at Tall Towers

by Lou Kuenzler

  “Grace doesn’t even have a ballroom, for goodness sake,” Precious had told the entire class. “Let alone a ballet studio…”

  So, while everyone else was already advanced, Grace was just a beginner when it came to dance. A very clumsy beginner. Madame Lightfeather, the ballet teacher, always had to stop the lesson and ask the rest of the girls to wait, balancing on their pointed toes, while she showed Grace how to lift her heels and reminded her yet again not to stamp her feet.

  Up in the little attic dormitory she shared with Scarlet and Izumi, Grace frowned as she tried to tie her messy hair into a neat ballet bun. Her friends usually did this for her, but today Grace refused to ask for help.

  “They’re always interfering and doing things for me,” she mumbled. “No wonder I don’t get any better by myself.”

  By the time she’d finished, it looked more like Grace had been caught in a fight with her lost Coronet Crimson than working with a brush and comb.

  “It’ll have to do,” she sighed, flopping down on her bed and pulling so hard on her pink ballet tights that her toes ripped right through the other end. Just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse, Scarlet pirouetted perfectly across the dormitory and clapped her hands.

  “Today’s the day we get to choose what sort of flower we want to be in the ballet show,” she said excitedly.

  “Perfect,” groaned Grace. She had no idea what flower she should be… Not many flowers grew in Cragland, and she hardly knew the difference between a rose and a dandelion.

  But just at that moment, sporty Princess Latisha came dashing in to Sky Dorm.

  “Stop! Change out of your ballet outfits,” she said. “Madame Lightfeather has sent a message that we should come to class in our riding clothes. We have to bring our notebooks too. We’re going out and about on the island.”

  “Really?” Grace tripped over the end of her bed as she bounded to her feet. “We’re riding our unicorns instead of ballet class?” For the first time in two days a big grin spread across her face.

  Madame Lightfeather reminded Grace of a flamingo. She was often dressed in pale pink and was nearly always balanced on one long, thin leg. She looked totally out of place and a little nervous standing in the stable yard as the unicorns jostled to get to the gate.

  “Young Majesties,” she squealed, springing backwards as Billy tried to nibble the edge of her tutu. “At this time of year, Coronet Island is home to many beautiful spring flowers. I want you to ride out in search of the one you would like to represent in the ballet show.”

  Grace’s heart jumped. She still couldn’t quite believe they were going to go for a ride instead of having the Monday morning lesson at school.

  “But what about the big scary dragon Grace saw?” gulped Precious, pretending to tremble and bite her nails. “Surely it might eat us alive, Oh, but I forgot – Grace made it up!”

  Grace turned Billy’s head away, ignoring her cousin. There was a ripple of laughter, probably from the twins, but Grace didn’t look round to see. Precious had made sure the whole class knew that the beautiful invitations for The Ballet of the Flowers had been ruined and that it was all Grace’s fault. Most of them were furious with her … especially since they heard she’d fallen out with Scarlet and Izumi over the whole thing.

  “On your ride, I want you each to pick a sample of the flower you would like to be and press it in your notebooks,” said Madame Lightfeather. “However, if your flower is very rare, with less than five blooms growing in one place, please do not pick it. Make a detailed sketch and return with that instead.”

  “Come on,” said Grace, squeezing Billy’s sides with her heels. “Let’s go.”

  But she was right at the front, and Madame Lightfeather asked her to wait and hold open the gate for the rest of the class.

  “Girls,” called Precious, barging forward to ride with Scarlet and Izumi. “Let’s stick together and be partners.”

  “All right. But we should wait for Grace too,” said Scarlet.

  “Really?” Precious smirked. “She might make us all gallop off the edge of a cliff or something.”

  “Forget it! I’d rather ride by myself,” snapped Grace, too proud to tag along with her cousin while she treated Scarlet and Izumi like her new best friends.

  “Never mind, then,” said Scarlet. Grace saw a look of hurt flash across her face as she turned her unicorn’s head and trotted away behind Precious. “If you want to sulk, I can’t stop you.”

  Grace could have kicked herself. She realized, too late, that although she’d meant to hurt Precious, she’d hurt Scarlet instead. Her friend had been trying to mend the silly argument and make peace. Grace had thrown that right back in her face. Even from gentle Scarlet, that might be the last chance she would get.

  By the time Grace shut the gate, the princesses had galloped off together down the beach.

  Billy pulled on his reins, desperate to follow the other unicorns across the sand.

  “No. We’re going this way.” Grace turned his head towards the steep, stony path that led up the cliffs. She wanted to be alone – somewhere she could forget all about Precious and the other princesses, at least for a while. “I promise I’ll let you have a gallop when we reach the moors,” she said, as Billy picked his way carefully between the sharp rocks.

  At last, Billy scrambled to the top of the cliffs. As soon as his hooves hit the soft moss of the moors he was off.

  “Yippee!” cried Grace, forgetting everything as she crouched low over Billy’s neck – even that she was supposed to be looking for a flower. Her long, wild hair had fallen out of its scrappy bun; it flew out behind her hat as they galloped. While the other princesses rode side-saddle, Grace always rode Billy the way a knight would ride his charger: with one leg either side of the saddle.

  “Like a stable boy,” Precious sniffed. But sitting side-saddle, none of the other girls in Grace’s class could ride as fast or as boldly as she could. “Whoopee!” she cheered as Billy sprung over a stream.

  A minute or two later they slowed to walk, as the path narrowed again and twisted through a small, dark wood.

  “Did you enjoy that?” laughed Grace, leaning forward to scratch the unicorn’s ears.

  But as her hand stretched out, she froze. Ahead of them, at the bend in the path, something moved. Grace peered into the darkness beneath the trees. A dark shadow crouched in the gloom. Two bright orange eyes burned like coals in a fire. Grace saw a long tail flicking back and forth.

  “The dragon,” she whispered, her heart hammering inside her chest – half with excitement and half with fear. “It’s still on the island after all.”

  Before she could turn Billy round, the beast sprang forward with a low growl.

  Billy reared up. Grace wished that she had a crossbow like Keeper Falcon’s, so that she could loose an arrow to frighten the creature away. Or at least that she had a stone she could throw. The only thing she did have was the small gold book that she used for making notes in ballet class – the one she was supposed to draw a rare flower in.

  “Shoo!” she yelled, tossing the book high over Billy’s ears and hoping it would be enough to scare the beast. She couldn’t even see the creature through the unicorn’s mane, which flew up wildly into her face as he threw his head in the air.

  “Shoo!” cried Grace again, but as Billy thumped his front legs back to the ground, she saw that it wasn’t a dragon, but an enormous yellow hound, that had blocked their path. It was holding her pretty gold notebook between it’s teeth and slobbering over it like a chew toy.

  “Oh!” As Grace’s heart stopped pounding with fear, she felt a thud of disappointment in her chest. It wasn’t the dragon after all: she was no closer to proving it was real.

  “Drop that right now!” Hetty, Keeper Falcon’s tiny, dark-haired niece, scampered out of the trees, dressed in a ragged chequered smock and carrying a long silver horn. “Sit!” she ordered crossly and grabbed the dog by its spiky collar.

 
The huge hound looked up at her as if she was six feet tall, and obeyed immediately. It spat the book out, which fell to the muddy path with a damp plop! and a splatter of drool.

  Oh dear, thought Grace. That’s going to cause trouble later. Madame Lightfeather always insisted they wrote notes about every new dance move they learned. But it was hopeless to try and rescue the book now. It was so chewed and wet that it looked like a shapeless bath sponge lying in a big puddle of dog dribble.

  “Oh, Your Majesty, I’m so sorry about your pretty little book,” said Hetty, darting forward to grab the soggy pages.

  Grace shook her head. “Don’t worry. I think it’s too late to save it.”

  “You’re a very naughty boy, Flump,” said Hetty, as the dog rolled over and waited to have its tummy tickled.

  “Flump? What a funny name for a great big hound like that,” laughed Grace.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” curtsied Hetty, as the enormous beast tried to lick the end of her nose. “He’s a dragon hound. His mother and father are called Fire and Flame. But he just wouldn’t suit a name like that. He’s supposed to fierce and fearless, but he’s a big softie, I’m afraid.”

  “I think he’s gorgeous,” said Grace.

  “Me too, Your Majesty. But Uncle Falcon says he is going to send him to the mainland if he doesn’t shape up,” sighed Hetty. “Dragon hounds aren’t meant to be too tame, you see – it makes them useless if they ever have to actually fight a dragon.”

  “I see,” said Grace, though she wondered why the keeper was worried if he was so sure there were no dragons left on the island.

  The big dog flopped to the ground at Hetty’s feet. “Ever since he was a tiny puppy he’s always loved rolling over to have his tummy tickled,” she explained. “That’s why I named him Flump. It’s sort of stuck.”

  “Is it all right if I tickle him too?” asked Grace, swinging her feet out of the stirrups and jumping down.

  “Of course.” Hetty nodded. “I’m sorry if he startled you earlier. I think he was more scared than you were. He’s a big baby, really.”

  “It was my fault for being so silly,” said Grace, tickling the enormous dog as he waved his huge, hairy legs in the air like an upturned spider. “It was dark under the trees and when I saw his orange eyes … well, I was sure he was a dragon.”

  She blushed, realizing how silly Hetty must think she was.

  “I suppose you heard I thought I saw a Coronet Crimson on the cliffs the other day?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty. That’s why I am out exploring with Flump – not that he’d be much use – but I’ve got this as well,” said Hetty, pointing to the silver trumpet. “I sneaked it out of Uncle Falcon’s cottage. It’s an ancient dragon horn. It’s supposed to calm them down if you blow it.”

  Grace looked up to see if the little girl was laughing at her. But Hetty’s eyes were wide with excitement.

  “I wish I’d been there, Your Majesty,” she said. “It must have been amazing to see a real dragon flying right over your head.”

  “So you really do believe me?” said Grace. “Even though your uncle thinks I am wrong?”

  “Of course I believe you.” Hetty shrugged. “It would be hard to imagine a thing like that, Your Majesty. Especially if it really was as big as a flying rhinoceros.”

  Grace smiled. She felt as if a boulder had slipped from her shoulders. Hetty might not be much bigger than her little sister Pip, but at least she believed what Grace had seen.

  “You don’t have to call me Your Majesty, by the way,” she laughed. “I’m just Grace.”

  “Thank you,” Hetty curtsied. “Although my uncle wouldn’t like that. He’s very strict.”

  Grace smiled kindly. She wasn’t surprised the little girl was so afraid of the stern gamekeeper. She was about to tell her she didn’t have to curtsy either, when she saw that Hetty’s eyes were fixed on Billy. It was as if he was the most wonderful creature she had ever seen.

  “Would you like a ride?” asked Grace. There was still time before she had to find her silly flower.

  “Oh, no,” gasped Hetty. “I couldn’t do that.”

  “You’re not scared of unicorns, are you?” said Grace. It didn’t seem to fit with the way Hetty rolled around with Flump or scampered through the trees like a monkey. “Come on.”

  Grace led Billy out on to a scrubby moor on the other side of the trees. He bent his head to nibble a bunch of ragged yellowy-brown flowers like an old yak in a hayfield.

  “See? He’s a big softie, just like Flump,’ said Grace.

  But Hetty still hung back.

  “I am not scared of Billy – not even a tiny bit,” she said, jutting out her chin and glaring at Grace for even suggesting such a thing. “It’s just that I’m not allowed. Surely you know that. Only a princess is ever allowed to ride a unicorn.”

  Grace’s mouth fell open. “Really? But that’s stupid!” There were still so many things Grace didn’t know about royal rules and customs, and so many of the things she had learned didn’t seem fair or right.

  “Well, Billy’s my unicorn,” she said. “And I give you permission. In fact, I insist by royal order that you have a ride right now!”

  “Are you sure, Your Majesty – I mean, Grace?” Hetty was jiggling from one foot to the other with excitement.

  “Of course I’m sure. Royally sure!” said Grace, taking Hetty’s silver dragon horn and resting it against a tree. Why should princesses get to keep unicorns all to themselves? It was the silliest thing she’d ever heard.

  “Just as long as my uncle doesn’t see me,” said Hetty, as she tried on Grace’s riding hat and tightened the strap.

  “Or my cousin, Precious,” smiled Grace, holding Billy’s stirrup and helping Hetty into the saddle.

  “I’ve dreamed my whole life of riding a unicorn,” beamed the little girl.

  “You’re going to love it,” grinned Grace.

  Grace clipped Flump’s lead to Billy’s bridle and led Hetty up and down the sandy track at the top of the moors. First they walked. Then they trotted. Flump bounded after them, wagging his tail.

  “Oh, Grace,” gasped Hetty (who had at long last stopped calling her Your Majesty). “This is brilliant. I wish I could ride a unicorn every day.”

  “You can,” said Grace. “Or, at least, you can every day that I’m free. All we need is some nice flat grass and I’ll have you cantering in no time!”

  “Cantering?” Hetty nearly fell out the side of the saddle.

  “You’re a natural!” said Grace.

  But suddenly Hetty put a finger to her lips.

  “Look,” she whispered, pointing to some rustling bracken at the side of the path. “We’ve got company.”

  A white unicorn foal stepped forward, his horn no bigger than a bump on his head.

  “Oh!” sighed both the girls at once.

  Billy whinnied. Hetty slid out of the saddle to grab hold of Flump.

  “I’ve never seen a unicorn foal before,” said Grace as they stood as still and quiet as they could.

  “There are always foals on Coronet Island in spring,” whispered Hetty. “But I’ve never seen one so white before.”

  She knelt gently and pulled up a scrap of dry grass. “Here, Chalky,” she whispered, beckoning to the foal. Then she put her hand to her mouth and gasped.

  “Oh, dear. I shouldn’t have given him a name. My uncle has always told me that.”

  Hetty’s big, brown eyes were worried again. “You know how it works,” she said. “Each First Year princess gets to name her own unicorn when she chooses it to belong to her.”

  It was true. Grace would never forget how she had waited for Billy to come out of the dark Jade Forest on her very first day at Tall Towers. All the other princesses had been paired with their unicorns right away, but it had seemed to take for ever until, at last, the shaggy black-and-white unicorn had decided to appear. Grace had named him Billy because he looked so much like a funny, hairy billy goat, peering out at
her from under his flowing mane.

  “You’re wrong about one thing, though,” Grace said, turning quietly towards Hetty. “A princess doesn’t choose the unicorn – the unicorn chooses her.”

  She stroked Billy’s nose and smiled at the memory of how her heart had felt that it would burst with joy when he first trotted towards her.

  “It doesn’t matter, anyway,” said Hetty, shrugging her shoulders and sticking out her lip in exactly the same way that Pip did when she was about to cry. “You’ve already got Billy, and I’m never going to have a unicorn of my own, so I can’t name this one, even if I want to.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” said Grace. “Look.”

  The little foal had skittered forward and was heading straight for Hetty. Very gently, he stretched out his snow-white muzzle and sniffed her hand.

  “Hello there, Chalky,” smiled the little girl. Then she threw up her hands. “Oh dear! I did it again.”

  “Careful! You’ll frighten him,” cried Grace. But it was too late. Chalky turned and galloped away, kicking up the sandy soil as he fled across the moor.

  “I didn’t mean to scare him,” said Hetty, tears pricking the corner of her eyes. “But I shouldn’t have given him a name. It was wrong. Giving something a name is like saying it belongs to you,” she sniffed.

  “I promise I won’t tell anyone. Not if you don’t want me to,” said Grace.

  “Thank you!” Hetty blushed bright red and flung her arms around Grace’s neck. She blushed even more when her stomach gurgled loudly.

  “Sorry,” she giggled. “I think it must be—”

  “Lunchtime!” cried Grace, remembering why she was out here in the first place. “I should have been back at school ages ago.”