by Andersen,Kai
“All right.” Giselda heard the words come out of her mouth, but she couldn’t remember what she was replying to. Her eyes were fixed on the gold, and all her insecurities, all her strivings for wealth and power seemed to culminate at that point. If she could just have it, she would never go hungry again. If she could just have it, she would never have to endure the jeers and mockery of others. If she could just have it…
Her hand reached out ...
Chapter Twenty-One
“Nooooo!”
Rodin’s shout was too late.
Giselda shrieked as a bellow sounded from beside her.
“Guards! Seize them!”
There was the thundering sound of rushing footsteps, and then firm hands caught her arms in a brutal grip. She struggled and punched and kicked, but to no avail. “Rodin! Help!”
But Rodin was having problems of his own.
Commotion reigned. Pandemonium was everywhere. Objects that had been motionless came alive, and the silence that had almost freaked her out minutes before was banished by the terrible noise the denizens of the castle were making.
A horn blew, and silence descended upon the room. Not the eerie silence of the dead, but the humming silence of the living.
“Who are you who trespass upon my land?”
Giselda had been dragged by those hands to stand before a set of chairs that she now recognized as the thrones. Her eyes were drawn to the man seated beside Firelight’s perch. He wore a golden crown on his head. His clothes were of fine quality, though a bit out of the current fashion. He was also the one who had thrown the question at them.
She sneaked a peek at Rodin and saw that he was still trying to get the upper hand on his four captors. Though he was big and skilled in combat, it appeared that his opponents were just as skilled.
“Show some respect to our king!” A hand at her back shoved her roughly to her knees. Her arms were almost pulled out of their sockets at the abrupt movement.
Giselda let out a cry of pain.
“Watch it, you idiots!” Rodin had heard her cry. “If you hurt her ...”
The threat hung in the air.
The man on the throne laughed. The woman seated beside him on the other throne, as well as all the lords and ladies, knights and pages, also burst out into laughter.
One of the ladies near Giselda trilled, “How manly! I wish Gerald were like him.”
Her companion sighed. “Now if only Roland would also ...”
Giselda looked up from her position on the floor. She now knew where the power and authority in this castle was. It would not do to antagonize the king, so she brought all her princessly training to the fore. “I apologize for the disrespect, Your Majesty; it was not intentional. I would gladly stay on my knees to recompense for my unseemly behavior, but I fear it would impede our discussion greatly, and I believe Your Majesty has some questions you wish answered?”
The king frowned. “You will stay on your knees, wench, while you answer my questions. You don’t seem to have trouble speaking.”
Darn. She should have included some coughing and gagging sounds. It was too late to do that now.
“Now, answer me: Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
She thought it prudent not to mention she was a princess. “We are questers for the golden bird, and a fox led us here.”
“You think to steal what is mine?” The man roared as he half-rose from his seat.
The blood rushed from her face. She had not thought of it that way. Stealing?
“You shall be punished by death!”
Had she escaped poverty only to die here? In this no-man’s land? She didn’t even get to say goodbye to her family!
“No offense, Your Majesty, but I think we were meant to get the bird, if my companion here had not touched the gilded cage by mistake.” The soft drawl pulled her out of her thoughts. She looked over to see that Rodin had stopped struggling and was kneeling quiescent a few feet away from her. Two knights held him by the arms while the other two pointed their swords at his neck. “The drawbridge was down and everyone was in an enchanted sleep. Only the bird was awake, yet she did not make a sound as I was handling her. We would have gotten away if my companion hadn’t made a mistake. So I doubt you can call it stealing.”
The king sat back in his seat and looked defeated. An atmosphere of gloom descended. He gestured wearily. “Unhand them.”
Once she was free, Giselda rushed over to Rodin, who hugged her tightly. He felt so warm and safe. Secure. His hands roved over her body, trying to find broken bones. “Are you all right? Where did they hurt you?”
Her eyes filled with tears at his concern. “I’m fine, Rodin. I’m so sorry ... sorry for this mess ... my fault ...”
His hand brushed a lock of hair away from her face. The action was gentle and affectionate. “What were you thinking?”
She tried to speak, but the words would not get out. She was so ashamed.
“It’s the gold, Giselda. Isn’t it?”
He knew her so well. She nodded imperceptibly, her head bowed.
His hands had settled to frame her head from behind, and now he nudged her chin up with his thumbs. When she looked at him, her heart quailed at the sadness she saw in his eyes. “These past few days, haven’t you learned yet that you can trust me to take care of you, Giselda? Haven’t you learned that gold is not everything? And even if you did bring gold with you, was there a place where we could have used it? The village, maybe, but anywhere else? And haven’t I taken care of you very well without gold these few days? Did you, even once, lack for food or shelter?” His voice was resigned, with the tiniest bit of anger.
She shook her head. His words made her feel small and ... unworthy. Unworthy of him. A tear slipped from her eyes.
“Ah, hell, I’ve made you cry.” His thumb brushed away the tear that slid down her cheek.
And I know the sadness in your heart.
Because she was the one who had put it there.
“If you lovebirds are done, maybe we can get back to our discussion?” the king said drily.
Rodin took his time drying her tears, and then turned to face the monarchs of the castle. “The Castle of Light. In what land is it located, Your Majesty?”
The king opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He sighed, a weary look coming over his face. “I can’t tell you. I have been enchanted never to speak its name, until the spell is broken.”
“Why?” Giselda caught her slip. “I mean, why have you been enchanted, Your Majesty? And it seems, the whole castle, as well? The whole kingdom?”
The king sighed again, slouching on his throne. “I can’t speak of why I have been enchanted, and the whole castle with me. I only hope that my people are spared from this, that their lives have gone on despite this terrible tragedy that has befallen their king.”
This was frustrating. More questions and, she was sure, no answers. “How long have you been enchanted?”
“I have watched my daughter rise from the ashes three times.”
Giselda was confused. “Your daughter --?”
“My daughter ...”
Giselda followed the turn of his head. She gasped. “Firelight?”
“Yes.” The king covered his eyes, while the woman beside him, presumably his queen, caught her breath on a sob. “My beautiful daughter, Amber, princess of fire and light.”
“Fire and light ...” Giselda murmured as she turned her head to look at the phoenix, who stared back at her.
“This spell, how can it be broken?”
The king was amused. “You think to undertake another quest, young man? What does your lady think?”
“The lady thinks it’s a worthwhile quest,” Giselda answered firmly, knowing Rodin’s stalwart and honorable heart. “Surely a princess deserves to be in her own natural form.”
The first genuine smile graced the king’s lips. “I thank you for your kind offer, then, but the spell would have been broken had you not touched the golden ca
ge.” Giselda made a sound of dismay. “But since it was so, it is up to another to break the spell. As for you, you need to finish your own quest.”
“But our quest involves the golden bird, who is your daughter.”
“And so it does, so it does.” He seemed to be a sad king, for he sighed again before clapping his hands twice. A page entered the room. “Bring me the enchanted notebook.” The page bowed and left, returning a few minutes later with a small notebook, not larger than his thumb. But when the king opened it, it grew and enlarged to the size of his hand.
Giselda watched, wide-eyed. “My, how interesting.”
He flipped to the center of the book, muttering all the while. “Here it is. You are to bring me the Ring from the Castle of Dark before I can allow you to take my daughter.”
“What ring?”
“The Ring.”
“That’s it?” Giselda frowned. “Isn’t there usually a ... a title to go with it? Like, the Ring of Luck, the Ring of Good Fortune, or maybe the Ring of Beauty.”
The king scanned the next few pages. “No. Nothing.”
“Or any description? Is it gold or silver or bronze or what?” Her voice was tinged with a little bit of desperation. “Where can we find it? If the castle is as big as this one, it might take us forever.”
The king checked the book again. “Ah. Here in fine print, it says, ‘The quester shall know.’”
The quester shall know.
Despite the urgency of their situation, she was fascinated by the book’s seeming magical element. In fact, the whole castle was imbued with a sense of magic. She didn’t know if it was because the castle was under an enchantment or if it was really magical in the first place. Hence, she could not help asking, “What about the book? How come it can tell you what to do next?”
“This book allows me to communicate with the one who had enchanted us.” The king added, “Please. Do not ask any more. I can’t tell you more.” His voice broke. “Just go, and I hope that by completing your quest, we may be one step closer to breaking our own enchantment.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Damn! I forgot to ask if he had seen Michael.”
They had walked out of the castle when the thought occurred to her. When she turned back, she saw that the drawbridge had been drawn up, and now it clanged shut against the portcullis.
It had been night when they entered the castle. But now, it was dawn. Though she thought they must have been inside the castle for an hour at the most, apparently it was not so.
Unless time had a different meaning within the forbidding structure they had left behind.
“Your preoccupation with your prince is getting to be annoying.”
Piqued, Giselda rounded on Rodin. “I don’t understand your irritation -- no, your anger -- toward Michael. He has never done anything to make you this mad. No, I take that back. He has never done anything to you, period. If anyone has a case to make, it would be him --”
His face tightened, becoming stern. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Something that had occurred to her before struck her. “Unless ... You’re jealous? Is that it? You’re jealous of Michael?”
His jaw worked, but he didn’t open his mouth.
His silence spoke for itself.
Something like awe and a curious kind of joy rippled through her. “Even way back then, in Mithirien, you were jealous of Michael. You loved me even then.”
He brushed past her. “I don’t want your pity.”
“I don’t pity you, you dolt!” She shouted after him.
He stopped and went still.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He turned around slowly. His green eyes glittered in the early morning sun. “You weren’t ready to hear it. Think about it, Giselda. What would you have done if I had confessed my feelings then?” He held up a hand when Giselda opened her mouth. “I’ll tell you. You would have laughed in my face and told me to go to hell.”
Giselda opened her mouth and then closed it again. He had it right. He knew her so well. But in these days that they’d been together, she’d been changing, so slowly that she hadn’t been aware of it. Now, when she looked within herself, she realized that it was a new Giselda she was seeing. A Giselda who was more understanding, less snobbish, less self-centered, but also less sure of what she wanted now for the rest of her life. Her lifelong dream of being queen (well, since she was fourteen, that is) had always guided her actions, but now, being queen to Michael’s king held less appeal than before.
She was torn. Her dreams and ambition drew her, yet something more powerful held her in thrall. The dream seemed vague now, losing its grasp on her. Not because it was lacking in any way, but because a greater attraction was pulling at her, tugging at her senses, at her heartstrings, and making her think of possibilities.
One thing she was sure of, though -- she wanted the man standing before her. She wanted him with all the passion that was in her. She was thrilled that he loved her, when he knew everything about her, all the good and the bad things about her. She didn’t have to pretend to be someone else with him. She could just be herself, Giselda -- bratty, slow to understand a joke (sometimes), snobbish, persistent (even when it was toward the wrong things, like when she pursued Frederick), and a whole slew of other desirable and undesirable traits.
In Rodin, there was freedom.
With Rodin, she could soar.
So she smiled her most seductive smile and sashayed toward him. “And why do you tell me now, Rodin? Do you think I’m ready to hear it now?”
His face grew sterner, if that were possible. He seemed to be holding himself under a great restraint. There was a tension about him, strong and tangible, and he was so rigid, she was afraid he would snap into two. Through gritted teeth, he emphasized, “I do not want your pity, damn it!”
Looking up at him through half-lidded eyes, she said in a low, husky voice, “Not pity, Rodin. Very far from pity.” She trailed one hand up his muscular arm and settled it on his chest. “I have to admit, I never thought I would feel this way about you.”
There was a stillness in his eyes as he asked, “What way?” He seemed to be holding his breath, waiting for her answer.
“You were always Frederick’s friend, who tolerated my presence whenever I wanted to tag along. When Frederick would snarl for me to go away, you were the one who pacified him and taught me how to put bait and to fish.” Her other hand came up to caress his cheek. He caught it in one hand and, turning his head, placed a soft kiss in the center of her palm. The gesture was so sweet it brought tears to her eyes. “You taught me how to swim, to hunt, to hold a sword.” She grimaced. “Not that I was any good at it. And to -- to -- there are so many things, I can’t even name them all. You were always so patient with me. You were like the brother I never had.”
He turned ashen. “Brother?”
“Yes, and --”
“You forgot the times when I taunted you, when I disagreed with you and made you mad.”
He had recovered swiftly and was now on the attack.
“No,” she continued earnestly. “I just haven’t gotten to that yet. But now that you mention it, I remember that those happened when I was older. I also gave my fair share of teasing and insults. There were also the times when I deliberately made you mad ... like right now.”
“Quit playing with me, Giselda!” He made a move to go, but she caught hold of his shirt and pressed herself against him.
“It’s only now that I realize why we were also at loggerheads some of the time.” She looked into his eyes. “Sparks flew during those times, Rodin, though we may not have realized it. I think I was attracted to you even then, but slow as I was, I never realized. My ambition blinded me from seeing you, though you were right in front of me.”
“Giselda ...”
“You are my dearest friend and lover.” Her throat felt tight, as if it were clogged with something. “All the passion I ever knew, Rodin ...” Her eyes closed as
his head descended. “... you taught me.”
The last few words were muffled by his mouth as their lips met in a long and soulful kiss. There was no passion in the kiss, but it was full of promise and a savoring of each other.
“Ahem.” Sounds of throat-clearing. “Ahem, ahem.” More throat-clearing, but still subtle. “AHEM!”
Rodin released her.
Giselda looked pointedly down at the fox. “Can’t you see we’re busy?”
The fox sniffed. “I have eyes, but I would have thought you would want to get on your quest.”
“Yes, but I would have enjoyed more time with Rodin.”
“You’ll have all the time you want, later on. But for now, I think we should concentrate on having this quest over and done with.”
“You knew we would fail?” Giselda’s voice was full of dismay.
“Not really.” Merry hesitated. “I guessed.”
All the guilt that Giselda had been ignoring came rushing at her. “It was my fault. I touched the golden cage, when you had already warned us not to, and --”
“Giselda ...” Rodin’s comforting hand was at her back.
Merry’s eyes held a wealth of understanding. “Let this setback be not in vain, Giselda. But even if not for you, it just proved that the time to end their enchantment has not yet come.”
“Who are they, Merry? Why was Amber turned into a phoenix?”
For the first time, indecision crossed Merry’s face. “I can’t tell you. In fact, it’s not something for mortal ears to hear. If it were not for your quest ...”
Giselda understood. Amber and the people they had met in the castle were not mortal.
“In fact, as soon as this whole quest is over, you won’t remember any of it.” Merry seemed sad. “I will have to erase the memory from your mind.”
“But the phoenix --?”
“To you and the rest of Mithirien, she would be a wonderful bird with magical healing properties. But that would be all.”
“How sad, not to remember any part of this great adventure,” Giselda murmured while looking at Rodin.
“Not to worry; you’ll remember parts of it. The most important parts.”