by Kristal Lim
She was dancing with the Prince. No. No, it wasn't her. It felt like it was her, but there was a difference. Rosamund. She was Rosamund in this story, or memory. And she was dancing with the man she loved.
"How is your father?" the Prince asked her politely as he twirled her round the ballroom. His pale eyes never left her face. No one had ever looked at her with such intensity and longing before. She felt completely vulnerable and desired at the same time under his gaze.
"He is well," she replied. "But he becomes more upset by the day that my sisters and I will not tell him what magic works on us. He has taken to placing soldiers outside our chambers to guard us, and he even ordered one to sleep within our rooms!" Rosamund became quite incensed when she remembered the soldier who had been chosen to stay in the chambers she shared with her sisters. The soldier was recently returned from one of the wars her father always seemed to be waging against some other kingdom in the south, and she found him to be quite–disturbing. There was something about the manner with which he looked at her that never failed to unsettle her. It was as if he could see something within her that even she herself was not aware of. And then there was also the way the man smiled at her, so openly and insolently. It was really quite aggravating.
"That soldier could have followed you here," the Prince now said with concern in his tone.
"No," she shook her head. "I gave him a sleeping draught. He will not know we have been gone till we return before the dawn."
And his face became sad all of a sudden. "Must you return?" he asked. "You can stay here, and dance with me until the sun rises. Then we can be truly together."
She let out a little sigh and refused to meet his gaze. "I do not know if I can. My father is old, and we are his heirs. He wishes to see us wed to princes from the neighboring kingdoms so he can make sure our people will be looked after once he is gone. As the eldest, he is especially depending on me to do what is best for our subjects. So I do not think I can stay here, with you." Even as she said the words, she knew that she was hurting him.
"But I happen to be a Prince from a neighboring kingdom," he protested. "I can marry you and guarantee the safety and well-being of your people for centuries."
At his words, she felt tears prickle her eyes. Rosamund knew he meant well, but he did not understand. He was immortal, and magic, while she was merely human for all that she was a Princess. Unions between their different peoples never lasted long and often ended in tragedy. It was in all the stories and songs the bards shared during cold winter nights when she and her sisters begged them to tell the tales of love they knew. Though the Prince often said he loved her and displayed his emotions quite openly, she never lost the nagging doubt at the back of her mind that this was all an enchantment that would break one day, and she would lose her youth and die while the Prince would be young and handsome forever. And, perhaps it was selfish of her, but she did not want an end like that for her love. She wanted someone who would stay with her throughout her journey in life, someone who would look upon her face in her old age with the same affection as in her maidenhood. She wanted someone who would understand what being mortal meant.
When he saw that she wouldn't reply to his last declaration, he led her away from the ballroom and into one of the deserted balconies. There he kissed her with a fever that she found increasingly difficult to resist by the night. "Promise me," he gasped when their lips finally parted, "promise me you will always come back to dance with me. No matter what happens, you will always come back to me. Promise."
It was a lie, but she said it anyway. "I promise." And her heart felt like it would break then because she truly wanted to keep her word.
He held her close for a long moment. "I will find a way, my Princess," she heard him vow. "I cannot give you true immortality, for that is a gift only my people may have, but I will find another way for us to be together throughout time. Just swear to me that when I find you again, you will choose to stay with me."
A sob suddenly escaped from Rosamund’s throat. "Please let us not talk of this anymore," she begged him. "The future can fend for itself but, for now, we are together. I do not wish to be reminded that all of this will end one day."
"Why would you say such a thing?" he demanded as he pulled away from her in sudden anger. "It is as if you have accepted we will be parted eventually. I will not accept such a fate. I do not care what forces I defy, but I will find the means for us to stay together. That is the measure of my love for you."
Her only response was to break down in tears. Giving her an anguished look, the Prince suddenly ran and leaped off the balcony, transforming into a snowy owl as he did so, and then he flew away. She called out his name and asked him to come back, but it was too late. He was gone. Crying in earnest, she sat down in one dark corner, feeling her heart break for the first time because of a love she knew was hopeless.
A hand appeared out of the corner of her eye. It was holding out a rough-looking yet clean handkerchief and, startled, she looked up to see the face of the soldier they had left sleeping in her father's castle.
"You!" She sprang to her feet in shock. "What are you doing here? How did you get here?"
"I followed you and your sisters, Your Highness," he replied.
"But–but how? I gave you a sleeping draught!"
He suddenly grinned and looked quite roguish. "Oh, I merely pretended to drink it." He held out the handkerchief to her again. "Here. For you to dry your tears." His voice was soft with sympathy.
She looked at it disdainfully, trying to hide the alarm she felt at the fact that he had discovered the secret she and her sisters shared. "I have my own, thank you," she snapped and took out a piece of fine linen to wipe the tears from her eyes.
He stiffened and the warmth she had seen earlier on his face disappeared. "Well then. If you and your sisters have had enough of dancing for one night, Your Highness, I will now escort you back to the castle." He started to turn away.
"Wait!" she entreated. "What will you tell my father?"
He shrugged. "The truth, of course."
"You cannot!" she gasped. "He will be furious, and he will accuse us of consorting with the people of the Strangelands!"
"But isn't that what you have been doing?" He looked at her coldly.
"Oh, you don't understand anything," she said, exasperated. "I will speak to my father and I will tell him what has been truly going on, and you will not contradict me or offer your opinions of what you think is true."
He bowed, and she was quite certain that he was mocking her when he said, "As you wish, Your Highness. I follow your commands."
He gestured for Rosamund to lead the way and she went to collect her sisters for their return home. The soldier trailed behind them and, to her annoyance, her youngest sister struck up a conversation with him and the two of them seemed to have quite an enjoyable little chat as their group passed through the different groves. Rosamund frowned at her youngest sister disapprovingly, and when the girl saw the look on her eldest sibling’s face, she blushed and stopped talking to the soldier.
When they finally arrived at the castle, the sun was just rising. And the King was waiting for them in their chambers. He listened impassively as the soldier gave his short report and then he turned to Rosamund and asked her for an explanation. It took a while for the eldest Princess to tell him everything, and her sisters kept interrupting with bits and pieces of information that made the entire conversation quite difficult to follow, but the old monarch was able to hear the whole tale of their enchantment at last.
His face was dark when he spoke his judgment. "You and your sisters will never go back to those accursed Strangelands again," he proclaimed. "Send for the witch!" he thundered, and the soldier who had brought the Princesses home looked at Rosamund worriedly for a moment before he bowed and left to carry out the King’s order.
"What are you going to do?" she asked her father, alarmed by the fury in his eyes. She knew the reputation of the witch her father often employed. The wom
an could be very nasty in working her spells. Rosamund did not want the cruel hag to hurt the Prince in any way.
"She will break the enchantment upon you so no daughter of mine will ever be lured by the devils of the Strangelands again!" the King declared. "And she will destroy that Prince who dared to claim you for his own!"
Her sisters were crying by this time, but Rosamund was too stunned to shed any tears. She had never seen her father so furious before and she was sick with worry about what the witch would do to her Prince. "Father, please!" she begged him. "There is no need for the witch and her spells. Just let me talk to the Prince tonight and I will ask him to break the enchantment upon us."
"Silence!" he roared. "Lock them in their chambers!" he ordered the soldiers around him and, weeping, Rosamund and her sisters were taken to their rooms where they were placed under guard once more.
Rosamund prayed the whole day, asking any god who cared to listen to change her father's mind and to spare the Prince from the witch's magic. But as she watched the sunset, she began to feel complete despair wash over her. The whole enchantment may have started as an amusement for the people of the Strangelands, but the love that she felt for the Prince and his love for her was true. Though she knew that they could never truly be together, she did not want him to suffer because of her, and she especially did not want to see him punished. But how could she stop the witch from simply following the King’s commands? How could she save her love?
There was a sudden knock on her door and she quickly turned to face it, her heart pounding. "Enter," she called out.
To her surprise, the young soldier who had followed them to the Prince’s castle came in. "Your Highness," he bowed to her deeply.
"What is it?" she asked. "Why are you here?" She knew that he had only been following her father’s orders, but she could not help blaming him for the dire situation she was facing now.
He hesitated for a second, then he spoke. "I–I overheard the witch speaking with the King, Your Highness. She was telling him that the only way she could cast the spell to destroy your Prince was to use," he hesitated for a moment then went on, "the love that you bear for him. Your Highness, she will use the love you feel to find him in the Strangelands and send her killing curse after him. I thought–I thought that you should know." He wouldn't meet her eyes.
Rosamund sank down on a nearby chair, her legs suddenly weak. She felt sick with horror. "No," she whispered, refusing to believe her ears. "No. He will die, and it will be my fault. Oh, Gods, please don't let this terrible thing happen!" She began to cry again.
"Your Highness," the soldier came to kneel before her. There was an oddly determined expression on his face, as well as something else. Something that she eventually recognized as true concern. And, perhaps, affection? But, no, that was a foolish fancy. The soldier went on speaking and she forced herself to gather her thoughts and listen to him. "I offer whatever service I can to help you," he said. "You need only speak the words."
"Why?" she demanded. "Why would you do this? Why would you want to help me?"
He met her gaze then. "I saw you dancing with him, my Princess," he said softly. "I saw how you looked at him. You truly love him."
"Yes. Yes, I do," she admitted as fresh tears came to her eyes. "But we can never be together. There are too many things that wish to tear us apart."
"Then try to save him at least," he responded, his tone passionate. "Make sure that he will live, so even if you cannot be together, you will know that he is well."
"But I don't know how to save him," she exclaimed. "I don't possess any magic that could protect him from the witch."
"He has his own magic, does he not?" he said reasonably. "Warn him at least so he will be prepared. If you write to him, I will find my way back to the Strangelands so I can give him your letter."
She thought about the soldier's words. He was right, of course. She could not just sit and do nothing when she knew that her Prince was in grave danger. She had to do something, anything, that could help him. She stood up, suddenly full of resolve. "I will not write a letter," she said. "We will go to the Strangelands together so I can speak with the Prince myself. And if he does have enough magic to keep him safe from the witch, then I will stay with him and never return."
The soldier and Rosamund then made their plans. Once night had fallen, he slipped the sleeping draught she once gave him into the wine skins of the men guarding the princesses. When they were sure that the guards were fully asleep, Rosamund gathered her sisters together and told them what she intended to do, and they agreed to assist her. So when the enchanted music began playing and the passage to the Strangelands opened, they hurried through it with the soldier leading the way. As they came upon the first grove, the one with the silver trees, Rosamund gave a little scream of pain when suddenly, for the first time she could remember, one of the leaves cut her on her arm. She stared at the wound dully for a moment before she realized what it meant.
"The witch," she whispered, "she has begun to cast her spell. I can feel it working through me."
Her sisters all looked stricken, but the soldier rallied them together and urged them to go even faster. Soon, they were running, barely seeing the gold and diamond groves as they passed through the beautiful trees, until they finally reached the lake. The boats were waiting for them and they stepped into each one quickly, and Rosamund prayed that she wouldn't get to the Prince too late. The witch's spell was beginning to burn in her chest and she became afraid that it would kill her as well. Once they landed on the opposite shore, she immediately started running towards the castle’s ballroom while her sisters and the soldier tried to catch up with her.
"Benwyr!" she cried out the Prince's name. "Benwyr!" She looked for him, but he was nowhere to be seen in the crowd of dancers. Then she thought she caught a glimpse of pale hair, and she swiftly made her way to where she had seen it. After struggling through the thick mass of revelers, she found herself near the same balcony where they had argued the previous night. And there he was waiting for her.
"You came back," he said.
"To stay," she told him, and the smile that appeared on his face was brighter than the moon. "But there's something you must know," she added desperately. "A witch has cast a killing spell on you, and she is using me to do it. Please, if you have the power to save yourself, do so for I cannot bear knowing that I can cause you harm."
His eyes clouded with worry. He took a step towards her and laid a hand on her arm. It was the one that had been cut by the silver leaf earlier and the blood oozing from it touched his skin. Almost instantly, he hissed and flung himself away from Rosamund, his hand still held out in front of him. With dawning horror, they both watched as her blood worked away at his skin like acid, turning the pale flesh dark, and the black foulness rapidly began to spread up his arm.
"No!" she moaned in pain and denial. "No! Please! There must be something you can do to stop it!"
The smile he gave her was sad yet resigned. "Not unless you stop loving me, and I would not wish for that," he said gently. "Your father's witch has crafted a very clever spell. It’s a working that only someone from the Strangelands could have taught her. I wonder who it was." But he didn’t really sound like he cared about who among his people may have betrayed him to his death.
"No." Rosamund shook her head in defiance. "You cannot die because of me. I will not let this happen!" She felt like her whole world was falling apart around her. How had things come to this horrible, horrible end?
"It is all right, Rosamund." She tried to shy away from him but, in spite of the agony he must have felt, he placed his arms around her and gave her a soft kiss. "Never forget me."
She pushed him away in a panic. A mad idea had come to her mind. She looked and she saw moonlight reflected on the lake's dark waters beneath the balcony. She remembered the warnings she had heard from him and the other people of the Court about the lake's magic.
"Forgive me," she said, then she leaped over th
e edge and plunged into the water.
~~~
Chapter 12