by Lou Kuenzler
She flung the reins back over Billy’s head.
“I am supposed to have chosen a flower to be for the dance,” she groaned, looking across the scraggy moorland. There was nothing up here except thorn bushes and moss.
“How about some dragon’s heart?” suggested Hetty.
“What a funny name… Is it pretty?” asked Grace.
“Not really,” smiled Hetty. “But it is the only thing that grows up here.” She pointed back towards the yellow-brown flowers that Billy had eaten when they came out of the wood. There were hundreds of them growing like nettles all along the edge of the trees.
“You’re brilliant!” cried Grace, snapping off a single stem. At least there were lots and lots of them so she wouldn’t have to make a sketch. There was no time, even if she had been good at drawing. And, thanks to Flump, she didn’t have a book to draw in anyway. “I’d have been in such trouble if I had come back without a flower.”
“Can we meet again soon and go on a dragon hunt?” grinned Hetty.
Grace was sure the Coronet Crimson was long gone but she could have hugged the little girl all over again for believing her.
“You bet!” she said. “And you can ride Billy whenever you like.”
She swung her leg over the saddle and trotted away.
“There’s one thing you ought to know,” Hetty called after her. “When dragon’s heart flowers are dry they smell like…
But it was too late. Hetty’s voice was lost on the wind.
“Poo!” Precious stood in the middle of the ballet studio holding her nose. “Somebody’s flower smells horrible!” She coughed, pirouetted and stared straight at Grace. “I bet it’s you making that dreadful smell, Cousin. After all, you do look like you’ve ridden through a swamp.”
“I’ve been up on the moors, actually,” Grace blushed. Everyone else had left enough time to change into their ballet clothes, but Grace was still wearing her riding habit. It was splattered with Flump’s huge, muddy paw prints. And, she had to admit, her dragon’s heart flower really did not smell very nice. In fact, it wasn’t much of a flower at all – just some frayed, curly leaves and a few strips of ragged yellow-brown petal.
“Right, Class,” said Madame Lightfeather, springing through the door. “Let’s see what beautiful flowers you are all going to be.” She stopped in mid-spin and wrinkled her nose. “Whatever is that smell? It smells like…”
The princesses snickered – all except Grace, who blushed as red as the beautiful poppy Scarlet was holding.
“Why are you still in your riding clothes, Grace?” asked Madame Lightfeather. “You cannot dance in that heavy coat. Go and take those muddy boots off, at least.”
“Yes, Madame.” Grace went to tug off her riding boots on the steps outside.
She joined the back of the line as the other princesses began to show the class their flowers. The twins had pink-and peach-coloured tulips, super-rich Princess Visalotta had a yellow crocus so bright it looked as if it was made from solid gold, and Scarlet was holding up her fragile poppy.
“Why have you chosen this one, my dear?” asked Madame Lightfeather as Scarlet pirouetted.
“I love how red it is and how delicate the petals are,” said Scarlet in her clear, quiet voice. “It is almost as if they are made of tissue paper, I think.”
‘Lovely,” Madame Lightfeather beamed. “I know you will do a wonderfully graceful dance to represent it, Scarlet.”
It was Izumi next. She had drawn a beautiful, detailed sketch of a rare water lily found only in the silver lake outside the ballet studio. “I want to try and get a feeling of water in my dance,” she said.
“Wonderful.” Madame Lightfeather stretched, more like a beautiful bird than ever, as she explained to Izumi, “You need your arms and legs to flow like a stream.”
Grace was trying to concentrate, but while four more princesses took their turn, she found it hard to focus on the class. The terrible pong from her dragon’s heart flower kept wafting up her nose. She was sneezing and sniffing and her eyes were streaming too. The other princesses kept glancing over at her. Most of them were holding their noses.
“Wait” said Madame Lightfeather, just as Precious was about to step up and take her turn. “I think I’d better see Princess Grace next so that she can take her plant outside before we all faint from the smell.”
“Oh … re … right. This is called dragon’s heart,” said Grace, stumbling forward.
“Dragon’s fart, more like,” hissed Precious. The whole class collapsed in fits of giggles. Grace knew she would probably have laughed too – if she hadn’t been the one holding the stinky flower. Precious was right: that’s exactly what it smelled like.
“Young Majesties,” cried Madame Lightfeather, lifting her hands so that her long sleeves fluttered like wings. “This is not a ladylike way to behave. I am sure Princess Grace has chosen this flower for a reason. I am sure she will have some … well, some very interesting ideas for her dance.”
“Ha! It looks like a weed to me,” laughed Precious. Most of the class collapsed into giggles again.
“Perhaps you would like to change it for something else. A blossom maybe?” said Madame Lightfeather.
Grace shook her head. She really didn’t see herself as a blossom.
“A nodding daffodil? Or a delicate pansy?” suggested the teacher.
“No, thank you.” Grace looked down at her muddy riding habit and her long feet, with one toe poking out the end of her sock. “This whole class thinks I’m as scruffy as a weed anyway, and they’re probably right,” she sighed. “I’ll stick with my dragon’s heart and do the best I can to come up with some sort of dance.”
“Lovely. We’ll look forward to that very much,” said Madame Lightfeather, although she didn’t sound at all sure. “Perhaps for now, though, you could take the plant outside. And Princesses Trinket and Truffle, open the windows and let some air in.”
“My turn now,” said Precious, pushing forward with a black-and-yellow flower shaped like a snake’s forked tongue. “At least this plant is not a weed. My dance is going to be very powerful,” Precious announced. But as Grace turned to the door, she heard Madame Lightfeather scream. “Drop that at once, Princess Precious!” she warned. “Nobody touch it. That flower is called Serpent Nightshade … and it is deadly poisonous.”
Trust Precious to choose a poisonous flower, thought Grace, feeling a little better as she stamped her feet into her muddy riding boots once more. At least my dragon’s heart won’t kill anyone. Not unless they die from the pong…
All the rest of that week, Grace tried her best to think of a way to represent her smelly, scruffy dragon’s heart weed in a dance.
“Study your flowers for ideas, my dear princesses,” cried Madame Lightfeather. She looked like a gleaming hummingbird today, in a flowing ballet skirt that shimmered in every shade of the rainbow. “My outfit is inspired by the colourful petals around me,” she said, buzzing amongst the princesses and leaping from one girl to the next.
Most of the class had brought their flowers along to the lesson with them so that they could look closely at the pretty petals and buds – only Grace’s pongy weed and Precious’s poisonous nightshade were banned from being anywhere near the ballet studio ever again. “Following the little mishap with our invitations,” said Madame, “new ones have now been sent out, along with a programme listing the flower that each princess will represent in her dance.”
“I wonder if they’ll write dragon’s fart on the programme,” whispered Precious, who was practicing the splits.
Grace stared down at her feet, but could tell that the whole class was looking at her. They were well aware of whose fault the little “mishap” had been. She had barely spoken to Izumi and Scarlet since the argument in the library, but she knew they’d spent hours making new invitations to replace the ones that she had ruined in the mud. Lots of the other princesses had helped out. But no one had asked Grace to join in.
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�The show will be upon us before we know it,” said Madame Lightfeather, clapping her hands excitedly. “We have a great deal of work to do, so find yourselves a partner. I want you to show each other your dance so far.”
Grace didn’t move. She had already seen Izumi grab Scarlet’s hand. Precious had dived across the room to be partners with wealthy Visalotta. The twins were together. And best friends Princess Rosamond and Juliette, Christabel and Emmeline, Latisha and Martine had paired up too. There were only ever supposed to be twelve princesses in a class at Tall Towers. When the headmistress, Lady DuLac, had allowed Grace to join, she was number thirteen. That meant there was an odd number, so someone was left without a partner. It had never mattered before. Scarlet, Izumi and Grace had always joined together as a threesome. Grace longed to join them now.
“Hurry and find a group, my dear,” said Madame Lightfeather, seeing that Grace was still alone. “I am sure one of these pairs won’t mind.”
But Grace shook her head. “I haven’t really got much of a dance to show anybody yet,” she said. “Can I practise a bit more on my own?” She pointed to the back wall of the ballet studio, which was covered from floor to ceiling in mirrors.
“Very well, if you think that’s how your ideas will blossom,” said Madame Lightfeather. “But there are only three weeks until the show. You need to come up with a beautiful, creative idea for your dance very soon.”
Grace nodded and stamped her feet, trying to imagine that her long legs and knobbly knees were roots pushing down into the soil. But when she stared at her reflection, she saw that all that jiggling about just made it look as if she was desperate to go to the toilet.
If only ballet didn’t have to be so elegant, she thought, watching in the mirror as Princess Christabel rose up gently on her toes. Even without the white tutu she would wear for the performance, it was easy to imagine Christabel as a delicate snowdrop peeping up through the frozen ground.
Scarlet spun silently past too, her arms as light as petals. It was as if she was a delicate stem blowing in the wind. Izumi followed, her fingers trembling like a water lily leaf on a lake.
“This is hopeless,” groaned Grace under her breath. She imagined Scarlet dressed as a bright red poppy and Izumi in pale water lily-pink. “What will I wear?” she mumbled. “A piece of smelly old sack?”
Even Precious’s poison-plant dance was taking shape as she spun across the room with her nose in the air, as haughty and beautiful as an evil queen.
“Search deep inside your own heart,” said Madame Featherlight, lifting Grace’s hands gently into the air. “You will begin to feel the dance growing inside you. You are full of imagination, my dear. I know you will come up with a wonderful idea, all in good time.”
“I’ll try my very best,” said Grace. At that moment, she wished more than anything that she could prove her wonderful, encouraging ballet teacher right. She promised herself that she would spend the whole weekend dancing.
The trouble was, she had promised Hetty that she could ride Billy again too…
The next morning, Grace saddled Billy and led him along the driveway to meet Hetty by the school gates.
“Watch out for Flump!” cried Hetty. Grace saw a flash of yellow out of the corner of her eye as the enormous dragon hound came bounding forward. He threw his giant paws around Grace’s neck, almost knocking her to the ground, as great dribbles of drool splashed on her shoulder.
“Sorry,” said Hetty. “He needs a good run on the moors.”
“I think Billy feels the same way,” smiled Grace, as the shaggy unicorn shook his head and rattled the bit in his mouth. “Ready?” Grace put a twist in Billy’s stirrup leathers so that they were short enough for the little girl to use. “Jump on!”
But Hetty shook her head. “It’s not safe for me to ride a unicorn so close to school,” she whispered. “Someone will see us.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” agreed Grace, as she spotted Precious and the twins peering at them over the garden hedge.
“How hilarious. Grace has made friends with a scruffy servant girl,” laughed Precious loudly.
“A scruffy servant! Hilarious,” snorted the twins.
“Don’t pay any attention to them,” said Grace.
But Precious was having fun now.
“I’m not surprised Grace’s only friend is a servant. She’s never behaved like a proper princess, and now she’s gone totally wild,” she said, roaring with laughter. “There’s not a single princess in the class who’d dare go anywhere near her. She might kick a stone at them or knock them over in the mud.”
“Oh, be quiet, Precious,” snapped Grace. “Go and put a frog in your mouth. I’d be friends with Hetty no matter what. She’s worth ten of you.”
Flump raised his hackles and growled.
“Yes. Go and put a frog in your mouth, Princess Precious!” echoed Hetty, as she stepped out from behind Billy.
Grace thought she might explode with laughter as she turned to see the little girl with her hands on her hips. It was so good to hear someone stand up to Precious for once. Especially someone half her size! She wanted to lift Hetty up in the air and cheer.
But a second later she saw the flush of colour drain from Hetty’s cheeks as she realized what she had done. And one look at Precious’s furious face told Grace that it would have been better if Hetty had kept quiet.
“I am s-s-so sorry, Your Majesty,” trembled Hetty, peering out from under her long, dark lashes.
“How dare you!” gasped Precious. She clutched her chest and stumbled as if she might faint. Trinket and Truffle grabbed her arms.
“A servant girl talking to me like that,” breathed Precious.
“It was only a joke,” said Grace. “Hetty was just copying me.”
“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” Hetty blushed. She bobbed down into a low curtsy, her lip wobbling as if she was about to cry.
“She didn’t say anything you didn’t deserve,” said Grace, putting her arm around Hetty’s shoulder. “You were being a horrible snob, Precious, and you know it.”
She took hold of Billy’s bridle and, gently turned Hetty around. “Come on,” she said. “You can help me muck out the stable if you like.”
She didn’t dare let Precious know they were really going for a ride – on a unicorn. That would be the last straw.
“You haven’t heard the end of this, Hetty Falcon. Just you wait!” shouted Precious as they led Billy away. “I’ll make sure you are fired from your little job feeding the peacocks. And I’ll see that your uncle loses his job as gamekeeper too.”
“She can’t do that, can she?” gasped Hetty.
“Of course not,” said Grace quickly. “Lady DuLac would never let it happen. Precious has no power over who works at Tall Towers and who doesn’t.” But Grace knew that Precious would find some way to make Hetty pay for what she had done.
“Even if he doesn’t lose his job, Uncle Falcon will be furious when he hears I stuck my tongue out at a real princess,” shivered Hetty.
She looked more afraid than ever. Grace remembered how long it had taken Hetty to stop curtsying and calling her ‘Young Majesty’ when they first met. Keeper Falcon was a stern man. He had trained Hetty to be polite to every princess.
“Precious was looking for trouble. I’ll happily tell that to your uncle and anyone else who wants to know,” said Grace, desperate to calm Hetty’s fears. “For now, we’d better try to find somewhere extra-specially secret to ride. I don’t trust Precious not to follow us and see what we’re up to.”
“We could always go to the Gemstone Glade,” said Hetty shyly. “If you really are sure you don’t mind letting me have another go.”
“Of course I’m sure. I’m going to teach you to canter today,” said Grace. “But where’s the Gemstone Glade? I’ve never heard of it before.”
“It’s a big meadow hidden in the Far Forest,” said Hetty, her eyes lighting up. “It could be like a secret riding school.”
“Sounds perfect,” whooped Grace. “Lead the way!”
Hetty rode ahead, steering Billy down a track that twisted deep into the woods. The silver dragon horn was slung over her back on a leather strap.
“I’ve ridden this way a hundred times,” panted Grace, jogging to keep up with the unicorn and his little rider, as Flump bounded along beside them. “I thought the path just led to the cliffs.”
“I told you, the Gemstone Glade is secret,” said Hetty, as they left the main path and ducked into the trees. “The Tall Towers pupils forget about it because they only ever come here once a year.”
Grace was about to ask why the princesses came at all. But as they reached the glade, the words caught in her throat.
“It’s beautiful,” she gasped.
They were standing beside a large circle of soft grass – the perfect place for Hetty to learn to canter. All around the edge of grass, like a band of jewels around a crown, was a bright ring of hundreds and hundreds of wild flowers.
“No wonder they call it the Gemstone Glade,” said Grace. In the warm sun, the small, bright flowers looked like rubies and emeralds, sapphires, diamonds and pearls.
“They only bloom for a few weeks every spring,” said Hetty. “But I think that makes it more special, as though it’s magic.”
“And not a dragon’s heart weed anywhere,” laughed Grace. “I should have come here when I was looking for my ballet flower.”
Billy pulled hard on the reins. Hetty almost toppled over his head as he stretched down to eat a bunch of the pretty flowers.
“Oh no you don’t!” Grace led Billy down to the circle of plain grass, where he could do no harm. “Let him have a bite or two here,” she said, as Hetty loosened the reins and held the front of the saddle. Billy swished his tail and chewed happily.
Only Flump didn’t seem to like the magical glade much. Having run twice around the edge of the ring, he stopped at the furthest edge and shivered like a frightened deer. AWOOOO! He threw his huge, hairy head in the air and howled.
“What’s the matter with him?” asked Grace. “He sounds scared.”