“Who’s there?” came a weak voice from the vicinity of the blankets.
Princess Jacobina leaned closer. “It’s me. Jacobina. Roald, how are you?”
“Tired. Who else is here?” He shifted around under the quilts, and his face came into view.
Henryk stifled a gasp. Though thin and looking bone-weary, Prince Roald was as handsome as if Henryk had thought him up in a dream. His lips were lush, a dimple flirted in one cheek, and his countenance was rugged yet refined. Henryk could not see his eyes since his unkempt hair swept across his brow. A sizzle of attraction flashed through Henryk and he instantly cut it off. This was the prince. Henryk had no business even thinking such thoughts.
“I’ve brought someone to help you.” Princess Jacobina riffled her fingers through his hair. “He’s going to sit up with you tonight and try to figure out how to make you well again.”
Prince Roald laughed, but it was such a dry laugh with so little power to it that he looked as if he were shivering. “You’ve tried that before. It didn’t work.”
“It didn’t hurt either. If nothing else, he will be different company than the guards. You can ask him to tell you about life in the city.” Jacobina spoke softly to her brother. She cast a flinty look at Henryk. “You will give him as much comfort as you are able.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” Henryk’s voice went tight. He’d liked Princess Jacobina, but with that look, he could see there resided a formidable resilience within her. She was not someone to give reason to be angry at him.
“I’ll check on you later. Try to eat something.” She straightened and left her brother behind, snapping her fingers at the nearest guard. “Make sure an additional supper comes up for our guest.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” The second guard followed in her wake.
When the princess’s steps faded down the hall, the first guard pointed one of his meaty fingers to a chair in the corner of the room. “Sit there. Don’t move.”
Henryk backed into the chair and sat with a thump. The chair must have been little used because dust flew up all around him from the seat cushion. He sneezed.
Prince Roald laughed again from his bed. His hair fell away from his eyes, and now Henryk could see how merry they were. Not at all what he’d expected from such an ill man. Inside his weakened body, there was spirit and life.
“Tell me about yourself, sir,” said the prince. He rolled onto his side and stared at Henryk. “It’s so rare I get to meet someone new who doesn’t instantly want to poke and prod me. I would prefer to never make the acquaintance of another doctor ever again. I’m curious how you came here and what you think you can do.” He spoke slowly and ended on a yawn. “Speak quickly, or I’ll fall asleep on you.”
“My name is Henryk, sire. I live at the edge of the city with my two brothers and my stepmother.”
“Is she a wicked stepmother? I’ve heard most of them are.” Again, the light in his eyes flashed in a lively and mischievous manner, even if his words came slowly.
“Not at all wicked. She works diligently to try to support us since my father died several months ago.”
The light in Prince Roald’s eyes dimmed. “You too? We’re both of us bereft then.”
“I know, sire.” Henryk knew, just as the whole country knew, that the king had died a year ago. Before he remembered that it was a move with too much familiarity for a man of his station, Henryk leaned forward and offered his hand. Prince Roald took it and they stared at each other.
The guard growled a warning deep in his throat.
“Reginald, please,” Prince Roald said. “I don’t think there is great danger in a handshake.”
The guard bowed his head. “As you wish, Your Highness.”
“I think I’ll sleep now. Wake me when supper comes.” Prince Roald closed his eyes. “Enjoy your vigil, Henryk. Perhaps you will still be here when I wake.”
“I intend to be, sire. Rest well.” Henryk sat back into his chair and watched as the prince fell asleep in barely a minute. His breathing evened out and the tightness around his eyes faded. He looked even more handsome now that his face relaxed into peaceful slackness, although Henryk preferred when he could see the humor in his eyes.
As he waited for the promised food to appear, Henryk pulled the red cloak around his shoulders. He’d been carrying it in his arms the entire time, and between being bullied around the palace by the guards and meeting both the princess and the prince, he hadn’t had a moment to consider it. The old woman had thrust it upon him with some nonsensical advice concerning its use. Could he believe her? Henryk glanced to the guard who wore a frown so practiced on his face that the creases in his cheeks ran as deep as chasms. The guard focused his eyes squarely on Henryk. He would need to find an opportunity to try the cloak, but definitely not in front of this watchful guard.
A mirror stood in one corner of the room. If there were even a private moment, Henryk could stand in front of it and pull the hood up and test to see if the old woman’s words were true. Even if they were and this was a magical cloak, what good would it do to become invisible? The prince was ill and did not look as if he could even walk from the room under his own power. Had she given it to him so that he could steal something? Henryk had no desire to go wandering the halls of the palace, thieving about the rooms.
A knock came at the door and a young page boy let himself in. He carried a tray of food. The two plates each had meat with gravy, a mound of green peas, a mash of white vegetable, and a hunk of bread. There was also a bowl of rich, golden broth.
“Good evening, sir. A meal for the guest and a meal for the prince,” the page whispered.
“Thank you. Here, I’ll take mine and you can serve the prince.” Henryk lifted the plate off and felt a rush of excitement at the amount and how good it smelled. He hadn’t eaten like this in months.
“Oh no, sir, both plates are for you.” The page gave a little bow and indicated with a nod that Henryk should take the second plate. After Henryk did, the page removed the broth and set it down on the table. Then he picked up the bowl of untouched dark brown broth that had grown cold on the table and put it on the tray. “The broth is for His Highness. He hasn’t eaten anything solid for a long time.” The page exited with a few repetitive bows, taking the tray and cold broth with him.
Henryk frowned at the words. The prince took only broth? And not very much of it if the bowl leaving the room was any testament. The prince was thin, that was true, but not emaciated. If he drank nothing but thin soup, then he would expect the prince to look much worse. As it was, Henryk thought the prince looked quite fit. He looked lean, without an ounce of fat on him, but he didn’t look as if he was starving.
That meant the prince had to be eating something more than just broth. Perhaps the prince spent his evening prowling the palace and at least visiting the kitchen area.
Henryk ran one of his hands down the wooly exterior of his red cloak. This night might prove to be far more adventurous than he’d initially thought.
The chair creaked across the room, and Henryk looked back at Reginald, whose attention hadn’t wavered from Henryk. “It’s an excellent meal,” Henryk said.
Reginald grunted.
Henryk began to eat his food and think about what he might be required to do. When the opportunity presented itself, he wanted to be ready.
“THERE, LAST ONE.” Clara carefully put the seventh little white mouse into her basket. It wiggled and joined its excited compatriots. Clara had finally loaded the loaf and other rolls into the basket for convenience. She kept an eye on the mice and hoped they nibbled the rolls before attacking the pumpernickel.
“They’re adorable as little mice,” Almarine said. “A bit stiff-necked as my servants, but I suppose that is a hazard of the position.”
“Now what shall we do?” Clara asked.
She and Almarine had spent the loveliest past few hours sitting together waiting for the mice to creep over to the bread she’d left as bait on
the ground. Clara was sad the meeting was about to end. Her daily life consisted of worry and toil. This had been a surprise but a completely welcome departure from that. With the transformed servants collected, there was no reason left to dally. Almarine would go back to being queen and worrying over her own problems, of which there were many. Clara would return to her own difficult strife.
Clara ventured to dream she saw some affection gleam in Almarine’s expressions. Her voice certainly held a friendly tone. Her words even dared to be so bold as to suggest things that Clara secretly thought about at night when she was alone.
Both of Clara’s marriages had been sound decisions, not marriages of love. She’d been fond of her husbands, but not excited by them. She hadn’t had many choices open to her. She’d considered becoming a spinster, but it had seemed a long, lonely, dreary path, and she had wanted a family. She’d never had her own children, which made her sad, but she did have three stepsons. John and Beaumont required more work to find ways to appreciate them because of their errant behaviors, but she had genuine affection for Henryk. She supposed it was because he was the oldest and felt responsible for everything. Being the oldest in her own family, Clara certainly knew the feeling.
Clara observed Almarine for a long moment. Did she imagine too much in Almarine’s manner? Was the spark Clara felt caused by momentary adventure, or was it linked to something more, something deeper in their souls? She might have spoken more plainly with a woman of her own status, but Almarine was a queen. That made everything more difficult to decipher. Clara hesitated to speak more openly, and for the moment, she kept her own counsel.
“This pumpkin is a bit large for either of us to carry, isn’t it?” Almarine stepped in a circle around the pumpkin.
“For the distance back to the city, yes. I’m sure we could lift it, but it’s too heavy for us to travel far with it. We could get it to the side of the road. If we hurry home, you might be able to send someone back to fetch it.” Clara looked down the road toward the deeper part of the forest. “Or we could travel to Mr. Paloma’s cabin and ask him if we might borrow his wheelbarrow.”
“Yes, let’s do that. At least there will be a chance of turning it back into a carriage. They take months and months to construct. I hate to see the craftsmanship go to waste. We’ll put it to the side of the road to lessen the chances of anyone coming by and smashing it for fun and folly. Then we’ll go requisition a wheelbarrow.” Almarine patted the sides of the pumpkin, looking for a spot that would be best to grab it by.
“Let me do that. I spent a summer in a pumpkin patch. I’ve got the knack.” Clara handed her basket to Almarine. “I don’t want to set it down and give them the idea they could run off again. They’re behaving well right now.”
Clara squatted down and got her hands under and around the pumpkin and lifted it. For a pumpkin, it was heavy. For a carriage, surpassingly light. She waddled over to the side of the road and found a safe location to store the pumpkin. She eyed it.
“If I hide it too well, we won’t see it when we walk back through.” Clara settled for piling leaves against the far side. It would remain visible from their direction of travel back through, but be less noticeable for anyone traveling past from the other side.
She joined Almarine on the road. “Do you think there is a chance of turning it back? And for the poor mice?”
“One never knows,” said Almarine. “One must keep moving forward regardless. That’s been my motto for as long as I can remember.”
They began to walk side by side down the lane in the direction of Mr. Paloma’s cabin.
“I never thought of those exact words,” Clara said, “but I suppose that’s been my motto as well.”
Almarine reached out and caught Clara’s hand in a firm grip. She swung their arms between them in a small arc and sent a smile at Clara.
“Do you know, I’m very happy that witch turned my carriage into a pumpkin?” Almarine said. “Of course, I’m not at all happy about my poor footmen and driver being turned into mice. Or the loss of the horses. But the carriage is a small price to pay to have met you. If I’d been in the carriage, we’d have trotted along and gone straight past you. I may not even have looked out the window.”
Clara felt herself blush. “This has been an eventful day. But I agree with you. I feel lucky we met. It’s not every day you get to meet your queen.”
Almarine looked stricken. “Oh, that title. It’s a blessing and a curse. I suppose it will take a while before we can be just Almarine and Clara to each other.”
“It is difficult to forget.” Clara knew that once they left the forest they would return to their roles. Queen Almarine was the queen, nevertheless. For a queen supposedly tucked away from the daily business of the world, she seemed levelheaded and able to deal with unusual twists of fate. Clara admired her for it. “But that won’t stop me from being your friend.”
Almarine paused. They stopped walking and stood in the forest with their hands clasped. “Do you believe we might become more than friends?”
“I suppose— I wouldn’t presume—” Clara became flustered. She took a moment to catch her breath and then smiled back to Almarine. “One never knows.”
Almarine laughed. “Sensible and clever! That witch’s curse has certainly had unintended effects. I believe it has turned out to be completely opposite of what she hoped.” Her expression became serious. “And exactly what I’ve been wishing for. You must think me inexcusably forward. We met hours ago and already I’m saying things to you that a queen should never say. But I am past the point of caring about that. This whole year, I’ve been thrust into a position I never thought would be mine, and I’ve gained many skills and developed many others I didn’t even know I possessed. This is one of them. To know a good thing when I see it.”
“It is a bit overwhelming,” said Clara. “I’m not used to baring my soul to anyone. I’m usually rather too busy moving forward each day to even think what I’ve missed.”
“We’ll talk of other things. You think about what I’ve said.” Almarine began walking again, tugging Clara along with her. “How far is this cabin? And what is the best way to ask the gentleman to borrow his wheelbarrow?”
“Not far. And not to worry. All those tales of woodcutters being brazen are exaggerated. I believe Mr. Paloma will certainly lend us the wheelbarrow.” Clara focused her attention on the task ahead. “But we should hurry. Today won’t last forever. Eventually, we’ll run out of daylight.”
A LIGHT KNOCK at the door brought Reginald to standing. Hushed and urgent whispers flew between the guard and whomever was on the other side. Henryk perched on the edge of his seat, ready to move if needed.
Reginald paused to give Henryk a hard look. “You stay here. I will return.” He slipped through the doorway, and another guard came through.
The new guard took a seat in the chair and narrowed his eyes at Henryk.
Henryk shrugged and sank back down in his chair. He’d lost track of time and attempted to maintain a light state of wakefulness. The empty plates from supper had gone back long ago, and for once in a long while, he felt full. No longer being hungry made it that much harder to stay awake. He wasn’t comfortable in the chair, but he found his head nodding all the same.
Henryk didn’t think he dozed, but sometime later, he came awake. The guard slept in the chair with his chin to his chest. Henryk shifted his focus from the guard to the bed. The prince was asleep as well.
Deciding that this must be his opportunity, Henryk pulled the hood of the cloak over his head. He felt no different, but when he stood and walked the few paces to look in the mirror, there was no reflection. The cloak rendered him invisible. The old woman had been telling him the truth. Henryk returned to his chair. Until the prince moved, there was nowhere to go.
To his surprise, mere moments after he’d become invisible, the prince stirred. He yawned and stretched.
“They always fall asleep,” the prince murmured. He looked straight a
t where Henryk sat. “And they always leave the room. Pity. I liked that one. Not that it matters.”
The prince moved quietly. Gone was the lethargy. His movements were precise, controlled, and very practiced. He reached to the floor and pulled. A trapdoor revealed itself and Henryk smothered a gasp. Until the prince had opened it, the trapdoor had been in plain sight and completely unnoticed. Henryk stayed behind the prince to peer down into the hole. Steep stairs stretched below the floor, and wherever they led, it was beyond his sight. The prince started down the staircase, and Henryk squeezed in after him. When the prince paused to pull the trapdoor closed behind him, Henryk moved past the prince without brushing against him, but it was a near thing. A lamp, already lit, waited on a step a few paces below the floor, and the prince picked it up and unhurriedly went down the steps. Henryk plastered himself against the wall to let the prince pass, and then he followed.
The stairs led down and down, sometimes at an angle and sometimes curved. The corridor tightened, and Henryk lost his sense of direction as they traveled on, not that he knew other parts of the palace to orient himself. When they finally reached the bottom and the prince opened the wooden door set at the base of the stairs, it was not another chamber of the palace that was revealed, but a grassy knoll. In the sky above, a full moon hung low and bright.
Henryk slithered through the opening before the prince closed the door, sucking in air to avoid touching the prince’s elbow. Then he continued to follow the prince across the field. Henryk realized they were not in the palace, nor even in the city. The royal palace sat in the center of the population, and although the length of the staircase had been impressive, the distance should not have brought them beyond the city limits. There was nowhere for this grassy space to exist. Back home, the moon should be a crescent, not full. This was a place of enchantment. They had either come to some type of underworld or entered another world entirely. Henryk recalled tales of those who passed across barriers to the land of the faeries and came back to tell of the strangest things. He had not thought he would ever be one of those people.
Once Upon the Rainbow, Volume Two Page 30