I dutifully examined the ring on her finger, making sure to bring it up very close so I could really see it. I’d seen larger jewels on the fingers of a man who dressed much simpler than her. Having never seen them for herself, the girl proudly preened over what she did have.
“Congratulations,” I said warmly.
“They’re to be married next month,” Samara Jade told me excitedly, and I almost asked who before I remembered it was assumed that I already knew the answer.
“It is a lovely time of year for a wedding,” I agreed.
I didn’t care one whit about the girl’s marriage, but what did it hurt to throw the words out there anyway? It’s what she wanted to hear, and I could see no harm in saying them. Unbidden, unwelcome, a voice in the back of my mind told me the king would not approve of such carelessness with words.
The second girl clapped her hands, her glee too much to keep bottled in. “Isn’t it?” she chimed, glancing significantly between Merlin and me.
I ignored her and I hoped Merlin did, too.
“All will be in shades of pink, from the confections to the bride’s dress,” Samara Jade further informed me.
That didn’t sound lovely at all, but I held my tongue. It wasn’t my wedding. Though I very briefly wondered about my wedding, wondered about the man standing beside me. Would he have the violet gaze that enchanted me from youth, or a clear-eyed hazel one that saw far more than it ever let on?
“You must come to the wedding!” the second girl urged me, clasping my hand in hers for emphasis.
I slowly extricated my hand. “I would love to be there,” I said, “if I can make it.”
Merlin, attuned as ever, shot me a sidelong glance I didn’t acknowledge. The other girls had less reason to be subtle about their doubts.
“If you can make?” Samara Jade giggled uncertainly. “Whatever could be tying you down?”
Maybe it was the tone, maybe it was the disbelief, maybe it was my own heavy mood that had nothing to do with the girls before me, so that, instead of shaking the incident off, I launched into a reason good enough, indubitable enough to keep me from the girl’s wedding.
“I’ll have you know,” I replied haughtily, “that I’ve been to the king’s palace and I’ve been invited back.”
The announcement had the desired effect as both girls’ eyes bulged to overtake their faces, robbing their lips of space to form any more words. Merlin coughed meaningfully beside me, but I ignored him and began to lace up a pair of sailor boots all my own.
“As you know,” I began, “Merlin’s family often has noble visitors because of his father’s business dealings.”
The girls nodded dumbly. It was then I realized that, having already used my truth to pull them in, I could tell them anything and they would believe it. It anyway wouldn’t take long for word to spread that a royal carriage had pulled up to the mill and deposited me outside it. It wouldn’t either take long for my father to confirm that I had been away at the king’s palace for three weeks. So rather than tell the truth that would lead to too many other questions, I gave them a tale to rival any I knew Father to weave. The truth of this was to remain mine to share, not theirs.
“Not long ago, Merlin escorted one of these noblemen to our mill on some business or other,” I continued. “They came exactly when I was at my spinning wheel, spinning the last of my flax into thread. I was surprised by their entry and pricked my finger suddenly, crying out from the pain.”
The other girls nodded in sympathy. There was nothing like relatable circumstances to tug at a listener’s emotions.
I smiled and reached out a hand for Merlin, though I wouldn’t fully look at him. For his part, Merlin expressed his displeasure by keeping his hand limp in mine. I went on as if I didn’t notice.
“Merlin, of course, immediately wanted to know the cause of my pain, and, embarrassed at my clumsiness, I let slip that I was upset that, though I wanted to keep working because there was still light in the day, I had no more flax left to spin.” I looked down at this point, feigning modesty. “It seems the accompanying nobleman was rather impressed at my industriousness and he told the king about it.”
“The king!” the girls gasped.
I nodded in affirmation. “And he invited me for a visit,” I said simply.
“What is he like?” the gossiper interrupted.
I considered very carefully before I spoke. “He is a tall man,” I said vaguely. “Very plain, but rather smart. He lives in a palace not atop a hill, but inside of it, with flowing rivers and waterfalls all throughout.”
I sensed Merlin nodding beside me. He could confirm that much was true. The girls’ expressions grew wistful and I knew I had them in the palm of my hand now. I pushed forward, unable to stop the tale I’d set in motion.
“The king, you know, has three aunts,” I told them, thinking then of Madame Mulberry and her annoying little pet. The girls nodded even though they did not know. “One has flat feet because she cares only about dancing the night away, so her arches have fallen in. One has fat thumbs because she spends all day trying on rings instead of noticing the people around her, so her fingers have swollen from carrying so much weight. And one,” I glanced at the gossiper, “has fat lips because she speaks too much and too carelessly, so they have grown big from the exercise. All of them waste their time on nonsense and all of them were meant to be impressed by a simple girl’s industriousness.”
“Were they?” Samara Jade asked breathlessly.
I had to fight the urge to laugh. “In their own way,” I replied. “I was at the palace three weeks and so I had one week for each of them. The king promised that if I could change them within those weeks, enough to attract for each a suitor, he would guarantee me the grandest suitor of all.
“You can imagine it’s no easy feat to change a woman in just seven days, but I had to do what the king had asked. It wasn’t for the reward either that I worked, but for my king and beloved kingdom…”
I spun the tale—the second I’d ever woven—expertly, deftly turning phrases with skills I’d gained having inadvertently studied the trade under Father. I spoke about how I had befriended the swollen-fingered aunt through playing duets with her on the piano, and thusly persuaded her to remove her jewels from her fingers. I claimed the music was in memory of my mother, coaxing from her a sentimentality that attracted the notice of a noble suitor.
As I heedlessly spilled words to give shape to a story that never was, I spoke of how I’d transformed the fat-lipped aunt. I told her of a supposedly wrongly incarcerated friend, who could only receive a one-page letter every month. I begged her to use her way with words to help me write a perfect page. She learned the value of words then, and this attracted her a suitor, one who had never truly conversed with her.
I stopped then in my story to consider the irony of the lesson I was teaching with how I was teaching it. Considering, that part of the story wasn’t entirely a lie. Hadn’t something of similar nature happened between the king and myself when he’d found me in the garden beside the glass illusion? I had simply switched myself for the second aunt, and dressed her to fit my tale.
“What then?” my listeners pressed, and I returned my attention to my captive audience.
“For the third aunt, the ruse was simple, too. I approached her to tell her how much I admired how she danced, and confessed I was worried at how poorly her shoes withstood her nightly revelry.
“‘The best shoemakers design my shoes,’ the aunt agreed, ‘but none have quite satisfied.’
“‘Well,’ I replied matter-of-factly, ‘they don’t know the secret to long-lasting shoes.’
“The aunt raised her eyebrows at me. ‘You know?’ she asked.
“‘Gold.’
“‘Gold?’
“‘Gold, that only I can spin.’
“‘I don’t believe it.’
“‘I’ll prove it.’
“That day I made a big show of having a spindle and some straw b
rought to my room. At the same time, I sought out a shoemaker whose shoes are made by little elves, so they are the best and most comfortable that can be. From him, I ordered one pair of shoes. I found another pair that was quite useless and designed it to look similar to the first. All day and all night, I set to spinning, though the king had provided me with gold thread from the outset.
“When the aunt came to inquire after my progress, I only told her that her shoes would soon be ready, and showed her a bit of gold thread to prove it.
“The shoemaker covered the shoes in gold material, and I presented the pair to the aunt. She tried them on skeptically, but her criticism turned to joy when she felt just how comfortable they were. She was so excited she danced away from me, and didn’t stop dancing until the early morning.
“While she slept, I switched her shoes with the older pair to hide that they hadn’t been scuffed or damaged, and she was none the wiser.
“And so three days passed. The third morning, the aunt approached me quite distraught, showing me the holes worn through the soles of her shoes, which I had in fact created.
“I took them from her and examined them from all angles, acting quite surprised that they hadn’t held up to her dancing.
“‘And they really were quite comfortable, too,’ she complained. ‘Far better than any other I’ve owned.’
“‘I will make you one last pair’ I offered.
“‘Will they last?’ was all she wanted to know.
“‘Perhaps, if you helped me,’ I said carefully. ‘For you know your own feet best.’
“‘Yes, I think I will,’ she agreed, and so it was set.
“The rest of the day, I kept her busy with silly tasks I claimed were important to creating the shoes I already had. We stayed up late into the night, and worked hard the next two days after. On the last night, the tired aunt fell asleep near dawn, exhausted from all the work.
“It was then that I left the first pair of shoes for her to find when she awoke. She was quite excited with them and spent the morning admiring each one from every angle.
“‘I can already feel these are different,’ she kept saying.
“‘There’s nothing that can compare to the work of your own hands,’ I agreed.
“‘Maybe so,’ she murmured thoughtfully.
“‘And if they ruin,’ I said cheerfully, ‘you can always make another pair.’
“The aunt looked down at her shoes and caressed them with her eyes. ‘I wouldn’t want to ruin something I spent so long making, much as I enjoyed doing so,’ she said. ‘I’m going to be careful with these.’
“I nodded in agreement, and it seemed she might have been cured of her careless dancing.
“The king seemed to agree because he let me leave not two days after,” I concluded.
There was a brief silence in the absence of my voice, one my listeners seemed rather hesitant to break.
“That was the most wonderful of stories, Millie!” Samara Jade sighed enviously.
“Did the king make good on his promise of reward?” her friend wanted to know.
“He did,” I smiled mysteriously.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Merlin start with my confirmation, no longer certain if I was still spinning my lie or not. I gave him no sign either way. That was for a conversation between just the two of us.
I quickly bid them farewell, suddenly needing to get away from them, get away from this village and the lives they were happy to live in it. I also couldn’t help myself from cringing inwardly each time they called me Millie. That girl had been left behind the day I rode to the palace and hadn’t been at the mill when I returned. That Millie knew her time was over, that she was being replaced by someone who’d been reshaped through her trials at the palace. A woman with opportunities far greater than any the other ever had.
“Quite a story,” Merlin commented as I turned away with him and set back toward home.
“It just came out,” I said simply.
“You’re better than your father,” he added, though not unkindly.
I grunted something in response, and Merlin didn’t press the matter. He didn’t need to. This wasn’t the first tale I’d spun without thinking, and this wasn’t the first time a part of me had watched while the rest of me spoke, so I knew exactly what he meant.
The thought of it frightened me to my very core, but, admittedly, it rather thrilled me, too.
When I returned to the cottage, I stood in the middle of the small room that served as kitchen, dining room, and sitting room, realizing in the glaring sunlight just how plain and simple it really was.
I went to my room and sat on the edge of my bed, testing the mattress and feeling disappointment that it wasn’t nearly as soft as the one at the palace. I looked my little room over and sensed the walls were closing in on me.
What had I expected coming back here, what had I wanted to see? Was I simply looking for confirmation of the mundanity of my life before it was bound to become something worthy of faery tales? Was I trying to rediscover a simple, uncomplicated life inside the plain walls of this cottage? Surely I hadn’t expected Father to become a man of truth while I was away giving credence to his lies.
My chest tightened. There were no answers here. If I couldn’t find anything to reassure me in choosing this life, then I could think of nothing to keep me from going back to the palace. It was foolish not to accept the king’s offer, to reject the life of a queen that could be mine. Why was I even pretending there was a choice to be made when the two options couldn’t even be compared?
I left my room and found Kirkin standing at the doorway to the cottage.
“Come on in,” I told him.
“With your permission, Miss Millie.” He stepped forward just enough to actually be considered inside the house. He studied my face a moment. “Everything all right?”
“Yes…no…I think so,” I fumbled.
Kirkin didn’t say anything.
“I mean, w-w-w-why sh-shouldn’t everything b-be all right, right?” I laughed nervously. “I mean, I’ve b-b-been offered the k-k-kingdom on a g-golden p-platter,” I started to ramble, cupping one hand and pressing the points of my other fingers into it again and again. “And y-y-yet I c-came b-b-back here. Why? What for?”
Kirkin continued to watch me, his eyes guarded, but nonjudgmental.
“It’s a lie here, a lie there, and all I can do is scramble to catch the little truths falling between the cracks.” I stopped for breath. My chest was feeling tight again and I was wondering whose promise it was reacting to. The little man’s? Merlin’s? Neither?
I looked expectantly at Kirkin, who still simply looked back at me. “I cannot tell you what to choose, Miss Millie,” he said kindly.
“A recommendation? A little hint?” I pressed.
The guard shook his head. “This is your life.”
“I d-don’t know w-w-what to do! Do I do away with a part of myself in choosing one way and not another?”
“You’ve said it was a matter of choosing one life over another,” Kirkin offered.
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” I questioned. “And yet, I trust the king and think his respect worth something, something rare and valuable indeed.” I stopped my pacing and faced Kirkin squarely. “I already know the answer, don’t I? I needed to come here to confirm it.”
Kirkin shrugged. “If that’s how you feel,” he said carefully, “I certainly wouldn’t be upset to keep my new position.”
I smiled. “Thank you, Kirkin.”
I paused. I wasn’t sure what I was thanking him for, he hadn’t offered me much by way of advice, but he had listened to me. Perhaps that was all I needed, someone to hear the truth beneath my muddled thoughts so I could find it for myself. Just as Merlin had done for me more times than I could remember. “Please ask the coachmen to ready the horses.”
Kirkin snapped off a crisp bow, then left to do as instructed. Moments later, Merlin came hurrying into the cottage.
He pulled up short and studied me intently when he saw the look on my face. As was the case so often, I didn’t need to say anything for him to understand my intentions.
“You’re going back.” His face was neutral, but his voice was incredulous.
“Yes,” I replied simply, “I’m going back.”
“Why?”
“Why?” I laughed though nothing was funny. “Because the king invited me to.”
“The king invited you to?” Merlin scoffed. “Why would the king allow you to live in the palace, unless…are you to be a servant there?”
“No, Merlin, I am not to be a servant there.”
“He’s going to make you a lady?”
“And then some.”
“If you’re to be a lady,” Merlin continued as if I hadn’t spoken, his mind denying what I thought so plain for him to see, “surely His Majesty will give you a title, some lands, something to live from.”
“I won’t be needing any lands or titles to live from,” I said brusquely, suddenly unwilling to say the words aloud.
“Then what—?”
I gave him a look.
He looked back.
I glared at him.
His eyes widened in a horror he couldn’t hide. “No.”
“Is it really so unbelievable?”
“Unexpected,” he replied, still in shock.
“Thanks.”
Merlin was struggling to get back to himself. “And you said yes?”
“Not yet, but it will be said in my return.”
“Really?” His voice was beginning to sound strained.
“Why not?”
“Why not? Why not?” Merlin ended on a yell, losing control in his anger, disappearing and reappearing about the room with short, emphatic puffs of purple smoke. “Think of what he’s done to you!”
“I am,” I replied frankly. “I’m thinking of how wide he opened the world for me, of how he’s giving me something any girl would want.”
The room grew quiet, and cold, unbearably so, like standing in a glacier, a dense pillar of ice into which no warmth could enter.
Lies of Golden Straw Page 17