by Anthea Sharp
“Yes,” Anneth said. “It is best if I attend.”
“Well enough.” Mr. Geary nodded. “I suppose you know your way around balls, Anneth. We’ll trust you in this.”
Certainly she was accustomed to official events at the Hawthorne Palace, but they did not actually have such things as formal balls. From her study of humans, she understood that dancing was a key part of such events.
“I am not sure what kind of dancing will be required,” she said. “We do things differently in Elfhame.”
“Do you even know how to dance?” Lily turned a concerned gaze on her.
“Yes—but what we call dancing, and what you do… I don’t know if it’s the same thing.”
“I haven’t been to many balls,” Lily said, then made a face at her mother’s snort of amusement. “Of course, none at the castle—but Pansy took me to a cotillion when I visited her in the city. And we dance here at the harvest fair every fall. So I do know a thing or two. What kind of dancing do you do, Anneth?”
Anneth was silent a moment. It was strange, thinking of how to describe the formal dances of court as if she were an outsider to them.
“We stand in a circle, or sometimes in lines across from one another, and move back and forth—a step up, two behind, turn in place, with the arms raised.”
“Do you have partners?” Lily asked.
“If you mean dancing two by two, no. Sometimes the lines pass closely by one another, and then you take a moment to mirror the moves with whomever is across from you.”
“So you’ve never waltzed? Or danced a polka?” Lily sounded shocked.
Mrs. Geary patted her daughter’s hand. “Even in our world, customs differ. I hear that in Parnese they do a twirling dance that would make you fall down dizzy if you tried.”
“It sounds like you need to teach Anneth to waltz.” Mr. Geary scraped back his chair and rose. “I’m back to the brewery to finish readying the barrels for the castle.”
“Try not to be out too late, dear.” Mrs. Geary stood and kissed his cheek, then began clearing the table.
Anneth took up her plate, but her hostess removed it from her hand with a tsk.
“You’re our guest,” Mrs. Geary said. “I’ll do the cleaning up, while Lily teaches you to waltz.”
“Thank you,” Anneth said. “I hope I’ll be able to learn the steps quickly.”
“You will.” Lily caught her hand and towed her to the living room. “Help me push the couch back and roll up the rug, so we have room.”
Anneth assisted in clearing the space, then stood facing Lily. “What now?”
“Take my hand, here,” Lily said, “and put the other one on my shoulder—yes, like so. Now, I am the lead, so when I step forward, you step back. Oh, and count to three. Ready?”
Anneth nodded, not sure what counting to three had to do with it. Lily stepped forward, and Anneth hopped back to keep her toes from being stepped on.
“Not like that,” Lily said, laughing. “Here, I’ll dance without you.”
Anneth stood aside, and Lily, holding her arms out to her imaginary partner, began dancing around the room.
“One, two, three. One, two, three,” she chanted. “See, watch my feet. The big step is on the one, then two and three are smaller. And you can turn about, too.”
She pivoted on the bigger step, and Anneth watched Lily’s feet closely until she came to a halt.
“I think I understand,” Anneth said. “Shall we try?”
It took several false starts and a few stumbles but finally Anneth had the feel of the waltz. Lily then went on to show her the simpler allemande, which was similar to the Dark Elves’ processionals, although a bit quicker in movement.
“Don’t worry,” Lily said, as she walked Anneth through yet another hand clasp and turn. “The same moves go over and over, just with different partners. I’ll stand beside you in the line, and you can watch me.”
“Or perhaps I will sprain my ankle and be unable to dance,” Anneth said. She was not at all sure she was up for the attempt, after all.
“Don’t fret,” Mrs. Geary called from the kitchen. “I’ve been watching, and you’re graceful, Anneth, even though you don’t quite know the steps. Not every girl in the kingdom is an accomplished dancer, after all. You’ll do well enough.”
“We’ll practice more tomorrow, in our gowns,” Lily said. “You’ll be ready.”
“Thank you for showing me the waltz,” Anneth said, keeping her misgivings to herself. She only hoped she wouldn’t embarrass herself too badly.
That night, as she and Lily went to their respective beds, Anneth told herself to wake just before dawn. As soon as the strange, silvery light of the approaching sun filtered into the sky, she would go find Ondo in the forest.
It wasn’t easy for her to fall asleep, however. Her thoughts swung between the ever-present fear for her father, worry for Bran, and the guilty pleasure she felt at the thought of attending the mortal ball. In the end, she fell into dreaming as she imagined herself waltzing. One, two, three, one, two, three…
She woke several times in the night, listening to Lily’s slow, steady breathing and checking the sky outside the window for any sign of change. Only the strange stars of the mortal world stared back at her, unblinking.
At last, a faint sifting of radiance dusted the sky. Silently, Anneth rose and crept to the door. There was no need to don her clothing, as she’d told Lily that her people slept in their clothes. It was a lie, but a convenient one for her purposes.
She glanced over her shoulder at Lily, who was fast asleep, then slipped out of the room and down the stairs. One of the treads creaked underfoot, and she froze, heart pounding. After a long moment, the house still and slumbering about her, Anneth continued, her steps careful.
Reaching the front door without mishap, she slipped on her boots and grabbed her cloak, then let herself out into the cool air.
A few birds were rousing, letting out sleepy chirps. Dew drops glistened on the leaves and blades of grass, shining like gems to Anneth’s enhanced vision. Swiftly, she went down the lane toward the looming trees of the Darkwood.
Ondo met her just inside the sheltering shadows. He wore the hood of his cloak drawn up, hiding his face from human eyes. Anneth smiled to see his familiar Dark Elf features.
“Everything is well, my lady?” he asked, giving her a close look. “Your true visage has returned. You were able to leave the house unseen?”
“Yes, I was careful. And I do feel better.” A night in a bed and a hearty meal had certainly helped.
“I spoke with your brother earlier,” the scout said. “He and Mara are still in the land across the sea, but they have located the Void and will soon destroy it. He bids you take care until he and Mara reach Raine, and hopes that your power regenerates soon.”
“So do I.”
She felt within her for the stirring of her wellspring, then held out her hand and spoke the summoning for foxfire. A faint flicker of blue light appeared, and her heart rose at the sight—only to fall again as the light snuffed out.
“Soon,” Ondo said, laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “That you were able to conjure even a glimmer is a good sign.”
“I suppose.” She sighed and faced him. “Cast the illusion, and I will meet you here again tomorrow.”
“I do not like it. Come back with me into the forest. What if something happens and you are discovered?”
“You worry too much.” Now it was her turn to pat his shoulder. “I’m safe and well cared for at the Gearys’.”
He bowed his head. “I trust you are correct, my lady.”
“I am.”
She did not add that she was going to attend a ball at the castle that very evening.
Ondo would certainly protest, then insist on accompanying her, and truly, she was not a child needing an escort. Even though she might not have magic at her fingertips at the moment, everything would be fine.
17
Anneth qui
etly let herself back into the Gearys’ house. The kitten, curled up into a ball of orange fluff by the hearth, opened its eyes a crack, gave her an incurious look, then went back to sleep.
Avoiding the creaky stair, Anneth crept back to the bedroom and slipped beneath the colorful quilt. In the bed beside hers, Lily snored softly. No one had witnessed Anneth’s departure and return, and she snuggled down under the covers, secure in the knowledge that her secret was safe—at least for another day.
When she roused again, the sun’s brilliance filled the room. Lily’s bed was neatly made, and the sound of dishes clinking drifted up the stairs, along with the delicious scent of baking bread. She lay for a moment, staring up at the plaster ceiling. It was a cozy little house, and so unlike the elegant rooms of the Hawthorne Palace.
She liked it very much.
Not that Anneth disliked her suite—but she’d never had the chance to look at her home from a different perspective. Some in the Hawthorne Court, Mireleth among them, would certainly disdain the quaint comforts of the Gearys’ home, but Anneth found it charming.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Anneth glanced over as Lily appeared in the doorway.
“You’re awake,” she said cheerfully. “Mother sent me up to see if you’d like some breakfast.”
“Certainly.” Anneth sat up and scooted herself out of bed. “I hope you didn’t wait for me.”
“Father ate ages ago and is off to the brewery to load the barrels up to the castle for the ball tonight. Oh, I can hardly wait!” Lily clasped her hands under her chin. “After breakfast, we can go out and gather flowers for our hair.”
“Is that what one usually wears to a ball?” Anneth asked, following Lily downstairs.
“Only the girls who can’t afford jewelry,” Lily said. “Which is us.”
Mrs. Geary looked up from making tea, clearly catching the end of their conversation. “We are rich enough, Lily, in the things that matter. And you are both welcome to look through my jewelry box. Perhaps something there will suit.”
“Thank you.” Lily dropped a kiss on her mother’s cheek, then took the basket of sliced bread from the counter over to the table.
“You thought I should change my hair.” Anneth ran one hand over her intricately braided locks. “What do you suggest?”
“Braids, still,” Lily said. “Just not quite so fancy. What do you think, Mother?”
Mrs. Geary studied Anneth’s head for a moment. “The looped braids are a lovely effect. We can keep the same feeling, without all the between rows. Provided you agree, Anneth?”
“I don’t want to stand out as being too different,” Anneth said. “I defer to your judgment in this.”
Mrs. Geary nodded and finished bringing breakfast to the table. Coddled eggs, crisp fruits unfamiliar to Anneth, with smooth red skins and tangy white flesh, and fresh-baked bread with a variety of jams to spread upon them.
Suddenly ravenous, Anneth ate and did not speak much. She was content to listen to Lily talk about the other village girls who would be at the ball.
“Don’t forget that your sister Seanna will be there, too,” Mrs. Geary said. “You should take Anneth over to meet the twins on your flower-gathering expedition this morning, since they weren’t able to come for dinner last night.”
“I’d like that,” Anneth said, when Lily glanced at her for confirmation. “But might I have another piece of bread first?”
“My stars, you eat like a starving creature,” Mrs. Geary said, passing her the basket. “Don’t they feed you there, in your land?” She smiled, showing she meant the words kindly.
“It’s only because your bread is so delicious.” Lily snatched a piece from the basket as it went by. “Nobody can refuse it.”
“It is excellent,” Anneth said. “Indeed, every meal I’ve had with you has been marvelous. You are an excellent cook.”
Mrs. Geary blushed slightly. “Coming from a princess, that’s high praise indeed. I expect you’re used to finer things than what we serve.”
“Different, that is all,” Anneth said. “But to answer your question about my appetite—the crossing between worlds is intensely draining.”
Lily gave her a stricken look. “Oh, no! Are you strong enough to attend the prince’s ball?”
“Don’t worry,” Anneth said, smiling at her. “Good food and rest is making all the difference. I feel nearly recovered now. And I expect going to the ball will be the highlight of my visit—after meeting all of you, of course.”
“Speaking of which…” Mrs. Geary rose and made a shooing motion. “You’d best go and see if you can catch the twins. I know they’d love to meet Anneth.”
In a matter of minutes, Lily was leading Anneth through a nearby field, stopping occasionally to pluck a few blooms and stick them in the metal bucket she carried.
“It’s not heavy,” Lily had assured her as they set out. “There’s only a little water in the bottom, and flowers don’t weigh that much. Besides, it’s not far to Sean and Seanna’s.”
Anneth was relieved that Lily’s siblings didn’t dwell in the middle of the village. She wanted to save her energy for the ball, but she knew that if they set foot in Little Hazel, she would not be able to resist exploring every part of it.
Later, she reminded herself. There would be opportunities to do so in the coming days, since Bran and Mara had not yet begun their journey back to Raine. And surely, since the hours ran more quickly in the human world, her father was not—yet—running out of time. She hoped.
At any rate, there was nothing she could do except wait.
And learn what she could of the mortal world—including any healing remedies the twins might be able to provide.
She followed Lily through a meadow of yellow-green grasses stitched with flowers. Ahead lay a low dwelling with white walls and a roof that seemed to be made of hay.
“Old Soraya’s cottage,” Lily said, gesturing. “Of course, it’s Sean and Seanna’s now. Look—they’re in the garden.”
She ran forward, calling a greeting, and the two figures kneeling in the beds of greenery rose and waved. At first glance, it was difficult to tell them apart. Both were garbed in long tunics and leggings made of gray cloth. Both had shoulder-length auburn hair pulled back from their faces. But as Anneth approached, she saw that Sean’s features were more angular, while Seanna’s figure was clearly that of a woman.
Lily made breathless introductions, and Sean and Seanna shook Anneth’s hand, both regarding her steadily with their gray-green eyes.
“Your brother married Mara,” Sean said. “Will we ever meet him?”
“Yes—I mean, I hope so,” Anneth said. “He and Mara should be returning shortly, as he’s needed in Elfhame. But before we go, I was hoping you might provide me some mortal medicines. My father is ill.”
“Describe the symptoms,” Seanna said, brow creasing.
Anneth did, including his cough, sunken eyes, and general weakness. Both twins gave her a sharp nod at the exact same moment.
“Vervain, comfrey, rue,” Seanna said, ticking the list off on her fingers.
“Willow and valerian, for comfort,” Sean added.
“Oregano to strengthen the constitution.” Seanna pursed her lips. “We have all that in store, plus a few Parnesian herbs that may be of help.”
“It will take two days to formulate the possible remedies,” Sean said.
“At least,” his sister added.
“We have the time,” Anneth said. “I thank you for your aid.” And prayed that whatever the twins concocted would be able to help the Hawthorne Lord.
“Are you going to the ball tonight?” Lily asked, lifting the bucket of flowers. “We’re collecting blooms for our hair.”
Seanna made a face. “I suppose I must—but I don’t intend to stay a moment more than is necessary. I’ve more important things to do.”
“Don’t you want to come with us, though, to gather flowers?” Lily asked. “You ought to at least make some
effort with your appearance.”
Seanna shook her head. “It isn’t necessary. I’ve no interest in making an impression upon Prince Owen, and neither should you, Lily.”
Owen. Anneth filed the name away. It was a very mortal name, and so much shorter than what she was accustomed to. In Elfhame, it would be something like Owennelthinor. She smiled at her own flight of fancy.
“Princes don’t marry commoners,” Seanna continued. “No matter what the fables say.”
“I know that,” Lily said, eyes flashing. “But you needn’t take all the fun out of it.”
“Seanna’s being practical,” her twin said. “Now, we’ve much to do, especially if we’re going to have Anneth’s medicines ready within the next few days. Good day to you both.”
“Don’t bother trying to find us at the castle,” Lily said. “I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of your hasty departure.”
“I won’t,” Seanna said calmly.
“Hmph.” Swinging her bucket, Lily turned away. “Come on, Anneth.”
Anneth began to make the twins a bow of farewell, but they were leaning together in close conversation and not even looking at her. Clearly the visit was already out of their minds. Well then. With a mental shrug, she went to join Lily, who waited for her at the edge of the lane running past the cottage.
“They are so rude,” Lily said, obviously not caring if her siblings overheard. “We don’t need them, anyway. More flowers for us.”
“I suppose.”
To Anneth, the twins had seemed blunt and straightforward, but not in a deliberately impolite way. More as though their thoughts marched in a slightly different time, and they saw no need to adjust their steps to match everyone around them.
She and Lily wandered the lane and meadows gathering flowers for the next turn—hour, Anneth corrected herself. She must start thinking of time in human terms.
Here, they had devices with gears and markers, the hours inscribed with numbers that repeated twice in one day. It was very confusing.
The Dark Elf way of marking such things was to use doubled spheres of glass fused together with a small opening between. Every turnglass measured the same stretch of time, no matter how large or small the glass might be—she had a palm-sized one tucked away in the pack she’d left with Ondo, while there was one nearly twice her height in the Hawthorne Palace throne room.