The Cracked Slipper

by Stephanie Alexander

  “In her condition?” asked Dorian. “Perhaps Roffi planted it there himself.”

  “Perhaps,” said Oliver. He took a few thoughtful moments. “But…it hardly makes sense for Roffi to steal the Horn and plant it in her room, only to have to steal it back again. Why take the risk? And to what end?”

  “Oliver has a point,” said the king.

  Oliver nodded. “Princess Eleanor knew about the prince’s indiscretions—”

  “How did you know about that?” interrupted Gregory.

  “—and we warned you about this girl from the beginning. She’s not the type to turn the other cheek.”

  “She’s not in love with Roffi,” said Dorian.

  Oliver turned on him. “How can you be sure?”

  Dorian couldn’t speak truthfully, so he changed the direction of the conversation. “How could she have done it? She can’t perform magic!”

  “I have a theory,” said Oliver. “A Blood Path.”

  “A what?” said the king.

  “A Blood Path. It’s a very complicated enchantment that connects two objects that are related to each other. Related by blood. It’s only been accomplished a handful of times. If done correctly, it can draw them together from great distances.”

  “Explain it,” said Gregory.

  “I can’t explain it,” said Oliver, “because I don’t know exactly how it works, but if there were something that could be traced to the actual unicorn horn inside the Fire-iron, something related by blood to Eclatant himself, perhaps a path could be drawn. It’s the only way the Horn could have disappeared from its chamber in plain view of the guards.”

  Casper’s eyes widened. “Every unicorn in the Paladine is somehow related to Eclatant. My stallion, Fortune, is a direct descendent.”

  “As is Vigor,” said Gregory. “The Paladine is covered in traces of Eclatant’s bloodline. Shed horns, hoof clippings, thousands of hairs. Millions of hairs.”

  “Even if someone did use a Blood Path,” said Dorian. “It couldn’t have been Eleanor!”

  “Of course not,” said Oliver. “I already confronted her about the witches from Afar Creek. She denied it, of course.”

  “I don’t think that woman, her teacher, would know that kind of magic,” said Gregory.

  “No,” said Oliver. “But I will admit there are some sorceresses in that harem with talent. There’s no reason someone couldn’t have performed the spell for her. The witches have every reason to detest the royal family, since the crown is so generous to the Coveys. They would love to see power fall into the hands of the Svelyan king.”

  “You hate the witches,” Dorian sneered. “Their treachery would be convenient for you.”

  “You are overly emotional, Finley. You forget the Horn is out there, heading straight into the hands of the Svelyan king. Who knows what magical deviance he has planned? A breaking of the Bond? Or worse yet, a usurping of the unicorn’s loyalty?” Oliver was all puffed-up rationality. Dorian wanted to knock his other eye shut.

  “Oliver is right,” said Casper. “Securing the Horn must be our top priority. Princess Eleanor will be held under arrest until we can organize a trial. Send her to Rabbit’s Rest Lodge, under Unicorn Guard. She may take her maidservant with her.”

  “Sire, I don’t think that’s a good idea so close to—”

  “Quiet, Dorian,” said Gregory. “The king didn’t ask if you thought it was a good idea.”

  Casper stood and put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Thank you, Gregory. I’m glad you’re keeping your head. Now, we must organize the scouting parties.”

  Dorian barely heard the rest of the conversation. He was thinking about routes to Rabbit’s Rest Lodge.

  CHAPTER 26

  No Time

  Rabbit’s Rest was fifteen miles outside of Maliana. A short ride by unicorn, but via carriage it took all day. It was unusually hot for HighSpring, and Eleanor removed two layers of petticoats as they rolled down the OutCountry Road. Pansy passed Eleanor a water flask and tried to make her eat. Eleanor sipped the water, but she couldn’t stomach a morsel of food. The rocking of the carriage together with her tattered nerves made her feel as queasy as ever she had at the beginning of her pregnancy. She closed her eyes.

  Even with the baby pressing into her ribcage, preventing her from drawing a decent breath, she drifted off. The shouts of the guards as the carriage rolled to a stop woke her. She leaned out the window.

  Grassy fields and rolling hills surrounded Rabbit’s Rest. The lodge, a one-story stone building rambling willy-nilly around several barns and a skinning shed, had no permanent staff. Gregory brought his own servants when he visited.

  “Come, Your Highness,” Pansy said. She had climbed down and stood in the dirt courtyard. Eleanor steadied herself with both hands on the sides of the carriage door.

  “Wait!” said a voice. One of the Unicorn Guard slid down from his mount. He reached up to her. “My family is from Solsea, Your Highness. I know of the good you’ve done down south, and I’m just sorry you in this sad way. It ain’t right.”

  She laid her hands on his shoulders and allowed him to lift her down from the carriage. “Thank you, soldier. You’re a strong lad to lift such a load.” She dropped her voice. “I will accept your kindness, but please don’t offer it again. You put yourself in danger. If you would ease my burden, heed me.”

  The young man nodded.

  Eleanor and Pansy entered the lodge. The ceilings were low and the furniture basic. Dented iron pots hung from hooks above a pot-bellied stove. The slanting light revealed eddies of floating dust.

  “The hunting must be fabulous in these parts for the Desmarais to tolerate such lodgings,” said Eleanor. The place was rustic at best.

  Eleanor jumped when an old woman rose from the kitchen table. Her gray robe blended so well with the mossy stone walls Eleanor hadn’t seen her.

  “Who are you?” Pansy asked.

  “My name is Myrtle. I’m a witch. A babycatcher.”

  “Are you from Afar Creek?” asked Eleanor.

  “No, no place as grand as that,” the old woman said. “I’m from Flat Rock Abbey. It’s about five miles south of here.”

  “I’ve never heard of it,” Eleanor said.

  “It’s a small Abbey. There aren’t many towns out this way. We live quietly most of the time, and tend our crops. A rider came in royal livery and asked me to stay here with you and look out for the baby.”

  “We’ll be glad to have you,” said Eleanor. Myrtle wasn’t Mercy Leigh, but she would be better than Pansy and some soldiers.

  The soldiers came in behind them with their few cases and boxes of bread, cheese, and dried fruit. Eleanor found a bedroom off the sitting area. She opened the door to a simple bed with flannel sheets and a dragon robe quilt, a few wooden chairs and a low chest of drawers. An embroidered purple and green rabbit sat on the pillows. Its button eyes looked at Eleanor as if she could explain why it was here on this drab gray bed and not in some cheerful nursery. She lifted the latch on her valise. She pulled out a nightdress and shook it out. Something red and blue rolled out of the sleeve.

  “Chou!” she cried.

  The parrot righted himself and shook. “Never, never again,” he said.

  She grabbed him in both hands. “How did you get in there? Gregory said you couldn’t come!”

  “Margaret stuffed me inside while Anne Iris gave the guard who was supposed to be checking your bags a view down her dress,” he said. “You know I wouldn’t let you go without me.”

  “You dear old buzzard.” Eleanor squeezed him, and a few feathers dropped onto the bed.

  “Don’t kill me after I survived in the case,” he said.

  She set him down.

  “Did you ever speak with Gregory?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “He wouldn’t see me. I wrote to him. I told him I was innocent, and still he didn’t come.”

  “What about Dorian?”

  “There was no time. They
came so quickly, and took me out the passageway through the Covey. I never saw anyone. To think, only yesterday afternoon I was worried about seating charts at the birthday party!” She laughed, and it had a bitter taste. “Now here we are, Chou. You and me in a leaky, drafty room. Just like old times!”

  Chou landed on her shoulder. “It’s been a long ride, even for you in the comfort of the carriage. Why don’t you take a nap?”

  “I’m sick of people telling me to rest.” Eleanor rustled around in her valise for some paper and a quill. “I’m writing to Gregory again. He must believe me. Perhaps when Roffi visited…why does no one suspect Oliver? They’re blinded, all of them, by his groveling…his ingratiating…his—Oh.”

  A spasm ripped through her stomach and stopped in a knot in her lower back. She bent over.

  “Eleanor? Eleanor? What is it?” Chou swirled around her head.

  “Get the witch, Chou.” She crawled on the bed as he disappeared down the hallway. She lay on her side, breathing hard.

  Myrtle and Pansy came into the room. Myrtle scrubbed her hands in the wash bin. “Can you sit up, Your Highness?” she asked.

  Eleanor rolled onto her back, but as she sat up heat gushed between her legs. Since she had removed her petticoats the fluid soaked through her dress and onto the dragon robe.

  “Her water has been pierced,” said Myrtle.

  “No,” said Eleanor. “It’s not supposed to come yet! Not for over three weeks!”

  “Water’s gone, my lady. The baby don’t know about three weeks. It’s coming sooner than later.”

  Not here, not here.

  The next few hours passed in a haze of stabbing pain and weakness. “There’s nothing to be done but endure it,” Myrtle said as she wiped Eleanor’s sweaty brow. “Your body has made no progress. It will be a long road.”

  “Is the baby safe?” Eleanor asked.

  “I should think so. You close your eyes. I’m just going to mix some herbs.”

  The sun set over the low hills. Eleanor couldn’t see past the nearest wooden shed. Chou appeared in the window. “Eleanor, don’t fall asleep yet,” he said.

  “I don’t think that will—” she crammed her fist into her mouth as another pain came and passed. “—happen anytime soon.”

  “Listen to me.” His voice held none of its usual banter.

  “What is it, Chou?”

  “I was eavesdropping—”

  “As usual.”

  “Let me finish!” he snapped. She blinked in surprise.

  “I heard Myrtle telling Pansy you’re in a worse way than she makes out. The pains shouldn’t be coming this fast and this hard yet. She said your body is not ready to give the baby up, but the baby needs the water, and it’s still leaking away. So you’re both in danger. Myrtle said this is beyond her abilities.”

  Eleanor paled. “I need Mercy Leigh, Chou. She’s the most skilled babycatcher at Afar Creek, and that means in all of Cartheigh.”

  Chou paced on the bed frame. “I could fly to Afar Creek, but it would take too long.”

  “I need to get word to Rosemary.”

  “You know Rosemary is on house arrest. No one can see her, not even the other witches. And like you said, you need a babycatcher, not a teacher.”

  Eleanor took a deep breath. Maybe the connection held. Eleanor had never tried to call Rosemary. She’d had no reason until now. “I need to fall asleep, Chou. Bring me some whiskey from the sitting room.”

  Chou looked as her like she had lost her mind along with her waistline. “It’s hardly the time for a drink and a snooze!” he said.

  “Just trust me. I must sleep, and I can’t if I don’t have something to cut the pain. Please.”

  Chou flew out the door and returned with a flask in his talons. She pulled out the stopper, and took a long swig, then another, wincing at the sour taste. She had never liked straight spirits.

  She waited as another pain built and passed before taking another drink. Her gorge rose but she kept it down.

  “Careful,” said Chou.

  Eleanor set the down the flask. As unaccustomed to drinking as she was, her head was fuzzy by the time another cramp came and went. “Better, Chou,” she said. “Better.”

  Her eyes were heavy. She hadn’t slept in two days, and her body was working hard. Please let this happen. Somehow let it happen.

  “Trust me,” she whispered, before drifting off.

  Dorian followed Gregory across the wide lawn of Trill Castle.

  “Eleanor,” Gregory called. “Come out!”

  Gregory opened the door of Walnut Cottage. Dorian peered over his shoulder as he stood in the hall. Gregory turned toward the broom closet.

  “No,” said Dorian. “No, Greg, you can’t go in there. She’s not in there. You can’t go in!”

  Gregory didn’t hear him. Dorian stepped in front of the prince but Gregory walked through him and disappeared through the closed door.

  Now Dorian knew Eleanor was inside. HighGod knew what Gregory was doing to her. He pounded on the door. “Gregory! Open the door! Eleanor! Eleanor, let me in!”

  He grabbed the doorknob, but it slipped through his hands as if he were made of smoke. He tried again, and again.

  The door swung open, but it wasn’t Eleanor. It wasn’t Gregory, either. He hardly knew Rosemary, but he recognized her at once.

  “I don’t have time for long explanations,” she said. “Just know what I am telling you is true, and you must act on it. Eleanor needs your help. She called to me in a dream, and now I’m calling on you.” She explained what Eleanor had revealed. “Mercy Leigh must go to her. If she doesn’t, Eleanor and the baby will die.”

  “Gregory won’t want me to go,” said Dorian. “He hasn’t let me out of his sight since she was arrested.”

  “Do you love her?” asked Rosemary.

  “Yes, and I think you know it. I will find a way.”

  “You must take Mercy Leigh to Rabbit’s Rest as soon as possible.”

  “I’ll go by unicorn. It’s the fastest way.”

  Rosemary nodded. “I will tell you, Mister Finley, I have long advised Eleanor to put aside her affection for you.”

  “I understand. I would do the same if I were you. You must know we’ve both tried. I think I’ve finished trying.”

  “Yes, and while I don’t give up easily, even I can recognize futility when I see it.” The door slammed shut. “Now go! There is no time!”

  Dorian opened his eyes and lifted his head from his writing desk. The night had been muggy, and he had stripped off his shirt before nodding off over a letter to General Clayborne. He hadn’t removed his boots, and he hopped a few times to get the blood flowing to his feet. He walked to the window, rubbing his bare arms. A light drizzle cooled the air. It must be early still. The servants were just bringing in the morning milk deliveries. He grabbed yesterday’s undershirt and pulled it on over his head as he left his room. He went straight to Gregory’s chambers. He ignored the guard and banged on the door.

  “Greg, it’s Dorian.” He shook the doorknob, half expecting it to dissolve in his hand as it had in his dream.

  “I’m coming.” The door opened and Gregory stepped back to let him in.

  “Is there some news?” Gregory asked. “I was finally getting some sleep.”

  “No, nothing new.” It was a lie, but Dorian was beyond caring. “But I wanted to talk with you about something.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’m worried about the baby. All this stress can’t be good for Eleanor.” He had already decided to leave Rosemary’s nocturnal appearance out of the conversation.

  “You woke me to tell me that? You think I don’t know it?”

  “Of course you know it,” said Dorian. “But what happens if something goes wrong out there? There’s no one but some country witch to help. The woman probably delivers more piglets than babies.”

  Gregory poured a glass of wine. The glass shook in his hands. “The baby isn’t due fo
r weeks.”

  “Still, don’t you think it would be prudent to have someone there? We aren’t talking about any baby. Regardless of Eleanor’s part in this, we’re talking about a Desmarais prince or princess, one of the blood.”

  Gregory set his glass down hard. Wine slopped over the edge. “We think it’s a Desmarais baby. It could come out with a Svelyan accent.”

  “Is that what you believe?” asked Dorian.

  “I don’t know! I don’t know!” Gregory sat down and covered his head with his forearms. “How could she put me in this place, that bitch! After everything I’ve done for her.”

  Dorian wanted to punch him, but he pitied him as well. It was not the first time. He knelt by his friend. Gregory looked at him, as if begging Dorian to explain it all away. His brown eyes were bloodshot, and his hair stuck together in thick clumps. Dorian could tell by the smell of sweat and booze around him he had not bathed.

  “Gregory,” Dorian said. He wanted to be as honest as possible. “Eleanor has always tried to be the best wife she could be, and it hasn’t always been easy for her. You must give her the benefit of the doubt.”

  “I wish I could,” Gregory said, “but…there’s been something there, for a long time. I tried to ignore it, but now I can’t. She stopped caring so much, Dorian, about what I did and where I was. Lately, it’s like she’s been somewhere else.”

  “She’s been tired, Greg, she’s never gone through this before, and after last time—”

  “Who told you about last time?”

  “Anne Iris.” Dorian said the first name that popped into his head.

  Gregory shook his head. “No, it was something else.” He pounded his fist on the table. “I know it! And Roffi always sniffing around. I even asked her about him, and she lied to me. Damn them both!”

  Dorian stood and tried to control his own anger. “You should have seen her before they took her to Rabbit’s Rest.”