Oh, but Bryan did look good. He looked like a prince, no matter how plain his clothes, no matter the wrinkles around his eyes, the signs of a life lived on the road, fending for himself. Merrigan imagined he was a great comfort to Bayl, supporting him as he searched for Belinda.
Consider it a fresh start, Bib said in the quiet of the night, after Merrigan was finally able to climb into her bed and let her achy-weary limbs relax. Sleep threatened on dizzy waves that she welcomed with pleasure.
Fresh start in what? Merrigan closed her eyes and wished he wasn't quite such a talkative talking book.
Your friendship with your prince.
He was never mine.
He could be now.
Focus on making everything safe for Belinda and Bayl. They've both suffered enough to deserve some happiness, don't you think?
What about you? Haven't you suffered enough?
Ask Clara. Merrigan rolled over and pulled her pillow over her head. Not that it would really help. But he did take the hint.
THE SEAMSTRESSES SETTLED down to get to work on holiday clothes for everyone in the orphanage. Although the first snows weren't due for several more weeks, they had to get to work now, because there were quite a lot of children to clothe. Merrigan looked forward to the enormous project, with such a wide variety of cloth and colors and all the supplies she would need. The children would be so excited, she knew. They were intelligent and aware enough to know the difference between the abundance of clothes that had been showered on them when Aubrey was restored to his position as prince, and the new clothes they would receive at the winter festivities. The difference between something adjusted and adapted for them, and something made for them. The donations showered on the orphanage warehouse continued, though slowed down to a more manageable flow. They had a nice stockpile of shoes and boots and coats. All the children had a change of nightshirts, so laundry day wasn't a mad scramble to get everything washed and dried by nighttime. They each had an outfit for chores and everyday wear, and an outfit for special occasions, such as when the king and other high-ranking or wealthy friends came to visit.
"What are you smiling about?" Belinda said, her voice threatening to grow loud enough to be a wail.
"I'm sorry—I was just gloating over all the goodies we have to work with," Merrigan said, patting the other princess's hand. "It's funny, but I've never been proud of anything but myself before. I like being proud of our home, of the children, all that we managed to do before we gained wealthy patrons."
"Hmm, I suppose so." She blotted her eyes with a visibly wet handkerchief. "He hates me," she whispered.
"Who hates you?"
"Bayl." Her voice dropped to a squeaky whisper.
"How can he hate you when he doesn't recognize you? You're wearing an illusion spell, remember?"
"But—but—he avoids looking at me. Every time I try to talk to him, he excuses himself and gets away as fast as he can. He won't look me in the eye, even when he's standing right there in front of me." Belinda looked around at the other girls. Her desperate whispers had been covered by the crunching of scissors going through cloth and the excited chatter as the sewing teams matched trimmings and buttons to cloth.
"Don't be a goose." Merrigan gestured with her chin at the girls on the other side of the table, since her hands were full pinning a skirt together for basting. "If you weren't so busy avoiding him half the time, and the other time pushing yourself into his face, desperate for him to recognize you despite that very good illusion spell, you'd notice that all the girls over the age of thirteen are nigh on drooling over him."
"Oh, I noticed." The whine slid into a growl.
Chapter Sixteen
"But you didn't notice that he's avoiding all of them, the same way he's avoiding you. As far as he knows, you're just another girl fawning over a handsome, heroic prince. Just another girl, and far too young for him. He's a man of great honor and high principles, your Bayl."
"Oh, I wish he were mine ..." She sighed, blotted her eyes one more time, and tucked the handkerchief into the collar of her dress, ready for more dripping and sniffling. Belinda picked up the dress pieces she was supposed to be pinning together for basting. "What am I going to do? It isn't safe for me to drop the illusion spell. Not until we're absolutely sure those scoundrels have put ten kingdoms between them and me."
"It's the enchantress out to get you we need to worry about."
"Enchantresses."
"What's that?" Merrigan stuck a pin in her finger and bit back a curse.
"I have been able to spare a few thoughts for something besides how rough-and-tumble gorgeous Bayl has become." Belinda sighed. "My sisters created the tracing spell. I have no doubt now."
"Why? I didn't get along all that well with my own brothers and sisters, but they would never do something so despicable. It's royal blood against the world and all that claptrap."
"Hmm, you would think so." She finished her pinning and got up to take the pieces down to the end of the table to the basting team. "I think the frustration of having their lives in perpetual waiting, until Father gets the succession to the throne settled, has rather turned them sour," she said when she returned to her chair. "You would think evil enchantresses would want the throne, all the wealth and manpower at their disposal. It's much harder to dislodge evil enchanters if they have some claim to the kingdom. You'd think those two would want me out of the way, rather than get me married and settled on the throne with a dimwit."
"Maybe they want a figurehead. They might have some spell to make you as useless and easily manipulated as those idiots we chased away." For a moment, they shared a grin, still feeling that triumph. "Or maybe ..." She remembered Bryan smiling at her. Other suitors had tried to smile, but went away pale with fear or some other emotion that had always made her feel triumphant and strong, until now.
"Maybe what?" she asked, when Merrigan paused too long.
"Maybe your sisters simply want you settled because they have sweethearts of their own, and your father won't let anyone marry before you. More claptrap and tradition about not letting the oldest daughter look bad, unmarried at her sisters' weddings."
"Those two?" Belinda let out a most unladylike snort. "They had plenty of suitors, but they tended to think of marriage as a punishment, not the sweet joy I saw between our parents." She sighed, and Merrigan was disappointed to see the featherheaded, moping expression return. "The sweetness I could have with Bayl, if I had just had the wit to snatch him up when I had the chance. Had. Past tense."
"You have a chance." Merrigan glanced at the girls. All seven had made some adjustments to their dresses, adding ribbons and embroidery. "While I'm sure your Bayl is too honorable to give our girls the slightest encouragement, you might want to find a way to discourage them without breaking their hearts or hating you."
"Oh. Yes." She studied the chattering, happily busy girls. "We need to match them with boys closer to their own ages and stations. Falling in love is the only cure for a broken heart."
MERRIGAN HAD SETTLED in the sewing area to think while the children were at their lessons. Bib was busy with his usual occupation, absorbing information from a new batch of books borrowed from King Auberg. Belinda was out running errands.
"Mistress Mara? Forgive me," Bryan hurried to say, when his sudden appearance at the sewing table startled a squeak out of Merrigan. "I was hoping to catch you in a quiet moment, but I didn't think ..."
Some men could blush without looking like overly sensitive twits auditioning for the tragic hero part in an epic poem. Bryan was one of them. Then again, he had good, healthy coloring and wide cheekbones, perfectly framed by that thin, dashing line of beard on his jaw. Merrigan scolded herself to stop being a ninny. There was far more to a man than just good looks and a voice that was a mixture of velvet and waterfall. Leffisand had all those qualities and more, and look how he turned out.
"It's all right, Highness—"
"Please." He rested his hand on hers on the t
able. "I'm no more a prince than you are a princess."
"Nonsense. I've learned quite a bit since ... well, I've learned in my travels that there's more to being royal than a throne and a palace and a crown. Some good fortune will smile on you, as a reward for all the good you have done. I'm sure Princess Belinda is deeply grateful for the work you and your brother have done, trying to defend her, help her. What?"
The deepening frown on Bryan's face made her heart squeeze and constricted her throat.
"We never said what her name was."
"Oh. Really?" She swallowed hard. "Are you sure?"
"Dolt." A shimmering voice came from Bryan's coat. "If you had done what I told you, in the sequence I told you—"
"Yes, yes," Bryan said with a sigh and an adorably crooked grin. He opened his coat and brought out a small hand mirror, round, with a handle twice as long as the mirror itself, encased in silver and ivory. The kind of mirror a fashionable lady would take on journeys, to ensure she looked her best before descending from her carriage. Why Prince Bryan of Sylvanglade would carry such a thing, Merrigan had no idea.
Then two amethyst eyes and a pair of plump, rosy lips appeared in the mirror.
"So you're the princess who set those fumblewits running," the shimmering voice continued, and one amethyst eye winked. "Pleased to meet you, Princess."
"My name is Mistress Mara." Merrigan clenched her hands together in her lap, praying Bryan wouldn't see them shaking. Now was not the time for her true name to be revealed. Mirror slaves were notorious for nasty streaks, being sly and speaking cryptically. She hoped that nasty streak didn't include revealing people's true names at the most awkward time.
"Of course, dearie. Whatever you say. Now, where's Bib?"
"You know—" She swallowed hard and made herself meet Bryan's eyes. "How did you find out about Bib?"
"I don't know who Bib is," Bryan said. "Crystal insisted when I woke up this morning that she had to find him. There's too much loose magic bouncing around this place to let them talk unless they're together."
"Bib." Merrigan nudged aside some of the books surrounding him, and poked his spine. "Bib, we have visitors."
"Crystal?" Bib's voice sounded like his spine would shred. "Can that really be you?"
"How are you, you old inkblotter?" The mirror shimmered. "Be a dear and let two old friends get acquainted for a little while, would you?"
"Yes, Highness." Bryan winked and grinned. "Your wish is my command."
"He's such a good boy—when he isn't being a cheeky brat. The sooner we get your princess untangled and set free, the happier you'll both be." Crystal chuckled, ending in a satisfied little sigh when Bryan put her down next to Bib on the table.
"I'm assuming the mirror is another magical item stolen from Bib's former master, during the enchanters' war." Merrigan knew she was babbling but couldn't help it, as Bryan settled down in the chair next to her.
"Ah, that explains quite a bit. I assume the book has been guiding you, as Crystal has been guiding Bayl and me for the last few years?"
"That pretty much sums up the story."
"Oh, but I hate summed up stories, don't you? I like all the messy details." He slouched down in the chair, so his head rested on the back rail and his tailbone rested on the front edge of the chair. He stretched out his legs with his ankles crossed and clasped his hands across his belly. "Let's share some war stories while those two old conspirators are catching up."
Merrigan didn't consider her travels and adventures with Bib to be "war stories," but she was pleased to get chuckles from Bryan when she talked about the odd characters she had met, the justice levied on Judge Brimble and the cheating miller. He slapped his leg and snorted when she talked about the bandits who had thought they were robbing a helpless old woman and ended up facing justice and humiliation. He wanted all the details of how she and Aubrey and the children had helped to protect Gilda, and approved of their efforts to catch the weavers.
Finally he consented to tell the tale of discovering Crystal. The mirror had been among the treasures of Sylvanglade for decades, but had been asleep until the two brothers, looking for mischief on a rainy day, snuck into the treasury. Bayl picked her up and declaimed some lines from an epic poem about a magician who fought dragons, while waving the mirror about like a sword. Crystal refused to tell them what exactly he had said and done to awaken her, but she had been their advisor, getting them in and out of trouble ever since. They had promised never to tell anyone she was with them, because she lived in genuine fear the enemies of her former master might find her. It had taken decades of maneuvering for her to get to the safety of Sylvanglade's treasure room.
"You trusted her and listened to her when she told you to lie to your parents?" Merrigan couldn't help interrupting.
"Well ... we were boys, at that age when we felt like everyone was prying into our business. We hated being left out of all the fun our older brothers were having." Bryan shrugged, a thoughtful frown creasing his forehead. "Besides, Crystal, like many magical objects of knowledge, can't lie. She can be awfully stubborn and a stickler for exact meanings, and if she doesn't like you, she won't offer any information beyond what you ask for."
"Ah, of course. Judge Brimble's uncle got into so much trouble because he didn't ask the right questions. So Crystal found all the adventures you were longing for."
"Harmless fun. A chance to grow up and learn some valuable lessons without getting into any real trouble." He sighed and sat up a little straighter in the chair, but still managing to look lazily relaxed. "She was training us to be heroes, and sensitive to magic. And most important, to follow the rules. Sometimes I do regret obeying her and keeping her presence secret so long."
"Why?"
"Sylvanglade is a rather small kingdom. We are—or at least, we were—more comfortable than wealthy. Enough to make us good neighbors. Neighboring kingdoms knew they could rely on us, but we didn't have anything to tempt invaders. We thought we were safe. More fools we." Bryan offered her a rueful smile. "Sorry. Shouldn't wander like that."
"I'm sorry. It must be heartbreaking, to know your family, your friends are trapped and there's nothing you can do about the curse."
"That's the worst part of it. Crystal warned us as soon as Branwell brought that twitterheaded Princess Talithia across the border. She can sense curses a league away, and she's especially sensitive to all the warping and complications when you don't obey the rules. We warned Branwell and we warned our father, but they wouldn't listen to us. They didn't think Crystal was trustworthy because she asked us to keep her a secret all these years. That put Branwell in a bad mood, and he took it out on Talithia. She was in a temper because the curse was trying to drag her back to her father's kingdom, where everything was supposed to play out in due order and ..." He sighed and shrugged. "Crystal felt the trap ready to snap closed and warned us. We barely got out in time."
"Nobody would listen when you told them to run?" Merrigan guessed.
"We've dedicated our lives since then to defending others. And defending a certain princess, whose name you know, even though it's a sacred vow between us never to reveal it to anyone." Bryan sat up and leaned toward her. "There's quite a lot that's mysterious about you, Princess Mara. Including that intriguing magical box. Crystal senses it is capable of holding this entire warehouse. If we could figure out how to get it through the opening," he added with a grin.
Merrigan felt a little queasy. Afraid yet elated. She wanted to be included in some new mischief he was about to make, all hinted at in the glitter in his eyes. For just a moment she slid back in her memory to their childhood adventures, when his eyes held that same spark.
"Tell me the rest of your story, and when those two are finished catching up, the four of us need to talk. There's a great deal of magic still in play, and danger we need to untangle."
"Uh huh." His eyes narrowed and his grin grew sly.
Belinda's suspicions were proven true, when Bryan related what he and
his brother had discovered. Crystal had been able to deduce much from scrying the magic every time they got close to the band of good-for-nothing princes. Bythia and Barbarina had woven the spell to trap their older sister, and put her into the clutches of the least worthy prince of the bunch. The magic held a nasty core. The enchantresses wanted Belinda dead, to take her throne, but their father also had a searching spell at work. He would not only know when Belinda was found, but also who hurt her. Both sisters would be disinherited if they directly harmed their sister. A curse was tangled around the hunting princes themselves. It would cause a series of embarrassing miss-steps and accidents, so the princes and Belinda would end up dead. Only someone made from magic, like Crystal, could see through the weaving to the malicious intent. Anyone else examining the aftermath would conclude Belinda had been killed through stupidity colliding from multiple directions.
"So tell me the truth," Bryan said, after they went to the kitchen to make tea and bring it back to the sewing room, with leftover biscuits from breakfast. "She's here, isn't she? Hiding among the orphans?" He waggled his eyebrows at her. "I thought you might be her, in disguise, but Crystal says you're an entirely different kind of magic."
"She does, does she?"
"You two are a pair of ninnies," Crystal announced, when Bryan and Merrigan just sat and smiled at each other.
"Oh, definitely a pair," Bib said, his pages riffling in a whispery chuckle.
"What sort of consensus have you two come up with?" Merrigan asked. "Are we safe enough from the enemies to take off some masks?"
"Bib is a wonder when it comes to diagnosing magic, but he hasn't had the experience with the whole nasty tangle that I've had over the years," Crystal announced. "As much as I hate to admit it, things could get much grimmer before they get better."
The Kindness Curse Page 29