◆◆◆
“I know you,” I said to the man before me. His hair shone with the brilliance of the sun, though there was a darker texture to it. It was almost birdlike how he moved, sweeping me into his arms, spreading wide his embrace and holding me to him.
I blinked. None of that had happened. It was only in my mind that he had bridged the distance between us. And my, what a bridge it was! I caught my balance against the rail now, the one that I had not noticed was there before. It sizzled under my skin and I pulled my hand back abruptly.
The man stood looking at me, across the bridge again, as the dream pushed him away. Now he beckoned to me, as though saying, “Come, follow me, I will cool your hand.”
He said it without a word and though I'd not even moved a foot, I found my hand now bathed in the pool of reflected light that he stood beside.
“Who are you?” I said, looking up at him. He was a shadow against the piercing sunlight and I shaded my eyes, darkening his form all the more.
He said nothing. For that was the way of dreams. They could say nothing and everything. They could be nowhere and everywhere. They didn't have to make sense. They didn't have to try. They simply existed.
Now, I found myself looking at him, wondering what his arms would feel like around me, wondering what his lips would feel like...
I shook my head.
“Aurora, this isn't that kind of dream.”
I chuckled at that, for it was not my own voice but Midnight's. Beautiful, beloved Midnight. How I missed her! She danced before my eyes now.
“No, no, back! I can't let you in. I can't let you come to me!”
There was little that I knew in this land of mystery, this place of dreams. But that, that I knew. Midnight was not allowed here.
Ugh! I'd done it again. I'd said her name. Already, I could see her form materializing before me again.
“Do you know how to shoot an arrow?” I called to the man, needing desperately to put my mind on anything other than my sister.
He nodded, drew a beautiful bow from behind his back and pulled a perfect feather-tipped arrow from the quiver. He fired and as he did, I gasped. Light pooled, like the reflected water I had bathed my hand in, along the trajectory of the arrow. It rained down over me in a pristine rainbow, its colors more glorious than any I had seen before. And then something even more magical happened. He turned to me and sang. He sang with such clarity, such heart, such – It was more than that though. He sang with familiarity. Yes, it was the song of Mother's people that he sang with such intimacy that I was certain that it was my own song as well.
“Who are you?” I said it now with such wonder that the words were hardly able to escape my breathless lips.
“I am a friend, a piece of you that you do not yet know.”
I nodded, not at all understanding. He offered no explanation, but gestured to me that I too should fire an arrow. I looked at the quiver that had appeared instantaneously on my back. From the soft buckskin, I pulled an arrow. Taking aim, though there was no clear target other than a pull in my heart, I fired. A golden beam of light shot from the arrow, in a trajectory that far exceeded his own. He smiled at me and said,
“Good. It's begun.”
Chapter Ten
Midnight
I wove the golden strands that Rumpelstiltskin had just delivered into the dreamcatcher's frame. Mother had been right. He had brought his present on the day of the ball. In and out, slow and steady, the delicate threads overlapped and knit together as though I were weaving a tapestry. I was, I supposed. Each thread told a story. Isn't that what Grandmother said? Father's mother, that is. She was the one who was renowned for her stitching, the one that I had looked to with hope in my little girl eyes and a tangled mess of stitches on my sampler. I'd thrust it onto Grandmother’s lap, my silk dress swooshing against Grandmother's own. Grandmother had laughed, not out of malice, but with the kindness and understanding that only a grandmother can share with a granddaughter.
“Well, little one, what have we here?”
“My stitching, Grandmother.”
“Looks more like a tangled mess of cobwebs.”
The lack of confidence, although it was rather accurate, had come from Aurora. She was five. She could be excused. Besides, I knew something of value: Aurora adored spiders. Secretly, it was a compliment.
Grandmother hadn't scolded Aurora. No one ever could, not with her angelic presence and cherub face. Besides, anyone who knew Aurora knew that her heart was bigger than her honesty professed.
“Now then, shall I help you untangle it?”
“Yes, Grandmother,” the adult me said aloud now.
I jumped, not realizing that the words were tumbling out and pulling the gold thread a bit too tightly, as I did.
“Did you say something, Your Highness?” Tilly asked, turning from her dusting. The castle had to sparkle extra, with so many visitors appearing.
“No, nothing. Thank you.”
Tilly nodded, then continued dusting with a little shake of her head that said, I pity the princess and all that she is going through. As to which princess, well, that was a matter of debate. There were those in court that felt terribly for Aurora. Indeed, who didn't? But, those who really knew us believed that I was suffering more. Aurora, presumably, knew nothing of our separation. As for me, well, it was unbearable to be without my sister. Even more so, it was unimaginable. That I should be without Aurora was as unconscionable as declaring that spring should not follow winter. For wasn't Aurora the spring? Wasn't I the winter? Didn't spring always revive that which was frozen? Now, though, no surge of life worked through the palace. I moved through it, as though stuck. Burdened by guilt, others did not know for what, I put my efforts into this dreamcatcher. Always, weaving.
Now, a spark of light shot through my body. It wasn't visible, but I could feel it all the same as I connected the golden thread across the longest loop of the dreamcatcher.
“It's begun,” I said and nodded. It was almost as though the voice were not my own.
Chapter Eleven
Tilly
Tilly watched out the window as he approached in the perfect pumpkin carriage, the one that had been her idea. She watched as he neared the castle, where he would soon dance with Midnight and suddenly, something felt off. Midnight had no interest in Philip, took little note of him. But that was when he was Philip the groom for the horses. Now he was Philip, presumed prince or else some relation or connection to royalty that was higher up than tending to their horses. Her heart suddenly broke a little at the realization. Midnight might be getting her prince, the one that she had always admired and that Midnight hadn't ever noticed. Well, Tilly presumed that she hadn't noticed him. Maybe she had, who knew?
Why was Philip going to the ball? It was all wonderfully secretive. A mystery thrilled through her and she loved the chance to solve it. This time, though, she'd barely given it a thought. She'd been so absorbed in thinking about helping Philip craft the carriage. She'd been so busy trying to get him to notice her that she'd failed to think about just how impressive he was becoming. As for Tilly, she always knew that he was worth paying attention to. She didn't need a carriage made of pumpkin to convince her of that. For the briefest of moments now, she wondered if she too might be spirited away to the ball, if a long dress would unfurl around her, if magic would pierce the air and, in a rain of stars, if she'd be transformed into a princess, the way that Philip had been altered.
But, Tilly was too old to believe in fairy tales. She knew better. And moreover, she'd seen all that had gone into transforming Philip. There had been no quick magic. There'd been hours of carving the pumpkin, of tailoring his clothes, of teaching him how to dance and to bow. She'd witnessed it all. Well, most of it anyway. The pumpkin carriage she had certainly been a part of. But not the ball. No, girls like Tilly did not go to balls. There would be no magic, not tonight.
Chapter Twelve
Philip
The chandelier was
the first thing that Philip saw. He loved it, admired it every occasion that he saw it sparkle through the window. This, though, was something altogether different. He stood beneath it, calculating its sheer mass and astonishing proportions. How many men had it taken it hoist it? How many artisans had labored over the sparkling placements of pristine-cut faces of crystal? He was halfway finished in calculating the probable weight of so great an object, when he was confronted with a whole new masterpiece. Smells, more heavenly than his eighteen years had known, flooded over him. Venison, its deep earthiness unleashed in a truffle and mushroom sauce, accosted him. It was the only way to describe the power that it held over him. If Midnight had walked through the room this very moment, he might not have noticed. No, even that was crazy! He'd, of course, have noticed, although it might have taken a few moments for his nose to move from the delectable feast set before him. Is this how they always ate at the palace? He'd have to ask Tilly. He wondered where she was now and if he'd see her tonight.
And then, he froze.
“Hello.” The voice was dark and noble. Philip stared, unable to answer at first. He was being spoken to by him. The king spoke directly to him, Philip the horse groom. Only now, that didn't seem to be true at all. He was more than Philip the horse groom. He was an invited subject to the ball.
“Hello, Your Majesty,” he managed to say.
The king was shorter up close than Philip had imagined him to be. He looked taller from afar. Now, as Philip stood in such proximity, he noticed that he was taller than the king.
“Are you enjoying our kingdom?”
Am I enjoying the kingdom?
Philip felt a flush of power rise from his feet and travel up along his brushed velvet pant leg. The king had no idea who he was. And if the king had no idea, then perhaps Midnight wouldn't either. Miracle of miracles, he was somehow passing for a stranger and as the king spoke with such familiarity to a stranger, Philip recognized that the king must have mistaken him for a noble. Him, a noble! If the king thought that he were a noble then was it possible that Midnight would as well? Ordinarily, he was unable to approach her, not capable of standing near her or –
Before Philip was able to answer, on the stair, he heard a gentle clearing of a throat.
The king looked up and his eyes, which previously had born the sadness of a father in distress at his ill daughter, now lit. And instantly, without even looking, Philip knew who was standing on the stairs. When he found the courage to raise his eyes to her, his heart nearly stopped. If he had thought that Midnight was lovely before, then well, he could find no words now. She outshone herself. It was an easy enough accomplishment to outshine another, but to shine brighter than she herself had ever shone, now that was saying something.
Her eyes flitted over him, not judging, but just noticing him. She had never done that before. It was enough to make him turn to jelly.
She will see through me. She will know that I do not belong here and all will be lost.
“May I introduce my daughter, Asteria,” he said. Midnight nodded at the introduction. Of course. She was known to no one outside of the household as Midnight. That name was reserved for those who loved her, for Aurora, for their mother, for the king when he was not introducing her to others… and to him.
“And you are?”
“Philip,” he said now. It was no use in lying. He'd never remember another name.
“Prince Philip, it is an honor to have you in our palace.”
Prince Philip?
At that his legs, which were barely standing so near to Midnight, now wobbled beneath him.
“Delighted,” she said and she held out her hand to him.
He lifted her hand awkwardly in his own, trying to be graceful.
“Kiss it. Kiss it. Kiss her hand.” Everything inside of him screamed the directions. He wondered if his lips were dry and hoped that they would not scrape her skin. It was the color of moonlight. She looked nothing like how he'd seen her before. That is to say, it wasn't that she looked less like herself, only deeply more so. Silver threads was what he'd seen her in before. Her dark hair had juxtaposed with it perfectly. But there was no life in the silver, in the shadow of the moon. Now, though, her skin glowed as it peeked out from the vibrancy of the blue.
Yes, it was blue that she was wearing. He'd been so enraptured by her that only now did he notice the color. Tiny strands of golden thread whispered against the damask silk of her dress, not precisely placed embroidery, but rather loose strands, as if she'd been caught mid-project and summoned to a ball.
His lips brushed her hand gently and he swore that he'd commit some horrendous fallacy, that he'd sneeze or cough on her or else babble on about how he'd saved her once when they were children and that he'd decided that she was the only girl for him, that he'd go on watching over her forever.
She nodded at him, looking none the worse for the kiss.
“I promise you, princess. I promise to help. Aurora will awaken again. I promise you that, Midnight.”
He said the words inside of his mind to her, inside of his heart and he kept on repeating them, needing her to hear it, though of course he could speak none of it aloud. Somehow, though, maybe it was just a trick of the mind, but she seemed to understand, perhaps to hear him. She nodded ever so slightly and her eyes lingered on him a moment longer than perhaps they should have. And he knew that Midnight was not only looking at a handsome prince (hadn't Tilly called him handsome?) but into the heart of a friend.
Chapter Thirteen
Midnight
When I returned to my room, I saw the box. It was tied with a perfect satin ribbon, the color of crimson.
“Mother, did you leave – ”
“Your mother is not here, Your Highness,” Tilly said, coming into the room again.
“Oh? I thought that she was going to dress with me.”
“She's downstairs, Your Majesty.”
“I see,” I said nodding, “And you don't know if she left this here, Tilly?”
“Begging your pardon, but I don't know. I can inquire if you want.”
“No, thank you, Tilly. That will be fine.”
Tilly left to check on the preparations and I turned my attention more fully to the box on the bed. It was wide, square in shape and it whispered to me. Oh, not literally. I couldn't hear it, but yet when I looked at it, it was as if a message pulsed from inside, one that said,
Pay attention, Midnight, to everything tonight. This night will be the night of dreams, not of nightmares. You will uncover how to help Aurora.
Was it possible? Could paper and ribbon wrapped around a box convey such a message? It was probably just my wish for the night and not a message. Helping Aurora, returning to only dreams and banishing nightmares, certainly was my desire.
I reached tentatively to the box, uncertain if I were supposed to wait to open it. A quick glance at the clock on the mantel persuaded me to open it now. There would be no time to wait. Surely, it was meant for me and for tonight. What else could it possibly be?
My fingers slid under the ribbon and it fell away from the box. Opening it now, I gasped. Thousands of tiny balls of colored light spilled out into the room. From every angle, the light from the chandelier reflected in the most beautiful pair of shoes that I'd ever seen.
Gingerly, I picked them up, amazed at all I saw.
“My goodness! Glass slippers!”
Under the slippers in the box lay a note.
Wear these to know the truth of your heart.
They hold a power to keep your steps straight.
And all the answers will unfold
If only you should do your part.
The answers will unfold! A means to help Aurora! It was all too wonderful to comprehend. I reached under my layers of blue dress, under the silk, under the rustling crinoline and to the silk stockings. Slipping on the shoes, they fit perfectly. It was as if they'd been custom-made, only for me. I'd been to no cobbler though. I stood and it was as if I were walkin
g on air, as though I were gliding as in a dream. The ground melted away and each step was a waltz.
Aurora and I had enchanted our shoes just months before for Auroa's birthday, but this, this was something altogether different. There was an expressiveness in the slippers, as though they carried joy and love within them. And, strange though it was, it seemed as if from the moment I had put them on, Aurora had stepped closer to me.
I stood, faced my reflection in the mirror and nodded.
Yes, Aurora will wake up. I will save her. Tonight will be the night to find the cure. The invitations had been sent to all corners of the kingdom and hundreds, perhaps even thousands, would be in attendance tonight. With the shoes on my feet promising to lead me along the right path, I had no doubt that I would find whatever means was necessary to free my sister from the trap of her birthday wish. Dear, sweet Aurora had tried to banish the nightmares from me, but didn't she realize that being apart was a nightmare all the more fierce?
Confidently, I stepped forward. I had a ball to attend.
Chapter Fourteen
Fedderlin
Fedderlin sat beside the fire, warming his hands, wondering if Toby had been successful in delivering the present. He had penned the note in haste and he hoped that the words would do their part. It was unorthodox to receive a request so last minute. Didn't others realize that elves told time differently? Didn’t they know that elves needed time to prepare, that they needed ten cups of tea to do what humans rushed through in one? Nonetheless, there had been particular insistence that a powerful gift be delivered to the palace tonight, “one that has the power to change destinies”. That had been the exact request. It was a dangerous proposition, playing with fates like that. But, Fedderlin had been one of the elves who had witnessed what had happened long ago, who was still trying to make amends and so, despite being rushed and the caution rising at the base of his spine, he'd sent on the only gift that could have the power. The glass slippers. He'd discovered them under the table. Toby had confessed, apologized profusely and had vowed to make it better. Fedderlin recognized the power that they possessed and so with added haste, he'd wrapped the slippers and entrusted them into Toby's, hopefully now safer, keeping to deliver to the palace. Just before leaving, Toby was handed this note by Fedderlin and told, under strict orders, that it must be delivered alongside the box.
While Aurora Slept- The Complete Trilogy Page 6