The Spinner and the Slipper (6 page)

The faerie stood and crossed over to her. She did not move at his approach but sat very still even as he knelt before her. “A lovely necklace,” he said. “Very beautiful indeed.”

“It . . . was my mother’s,” Eliana whispered.

“May I have it?”

Eliana stared at him. She couldn’t bring herself to answer, but her hand closed unconsciously over the necklace, holding on as though holding on to life itself.

“
You must promise me, if someone asks you for either this ring or this necklace, you will give them what they ask right away, without question.
”

He waited quietly, one hand outstretched, palm up. How badly she wanted to refuse him! But that would mean gainsaying her mother’s final wish. Was she so determined to hold on to her possessions that she would dishonor her mother’s memory?

Very quietly, scarcely breathing, she slipped the necklace from around her neck. Slowly she dropped it in coils into the palm of the faerie’s hand. “It’s only painted clay,” she whispered, almost in apology.

But even as she spoke, a change came over the necklace. As it fell into the faerie’s hand, the chipped gold paint renewed and began to glow like a handful of sunlight made solid. Eliana gasped, both frightened and delighted at the same time.

“It’s
real
gold,” said the faerie, smiling at her once more. “Real
faerie
gold. And because you gave it to me willingly, I can use the magic of this gift to spin straw into more gold for you. This I promise, sweet Eliana.”

With that, he stood and moved to the spinning wheel, his every movement graceful and confident. He called back over his shoulder. “You might as well shut those pretty eyes of yours and get some rest. This is going to take all night.”

Eliana did not want to sleep. She wanted to watch what he did, wanted to observe this strange magic of his. But even as the faerie’s foot pressed the treadle, even as the wheel began to spin, even as he took up the first handful of straw, Eliana felt exhaustion overwhelm her. She sank slowly to the floor with her cheek resting on her arm. As she fell into a sleep much deeper and more refreshing than any she’d known since her mother’s death, she wondered how he had learned her name. But sleep took her for the night, and she all but forgot to ask him.

The faerie’s deep, melodious voice sang in her dreams:

“Round about, round about,

Lo and behold!

Reel away, reel away,

Straw into gold!”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Rising Tensions

The sun rose. The castle began to stir and wake. Eliana’s eyes opened slowly, unwillingly. She had enjoyed such a beautiful sleep, it was difficult to return to the waking world.

The moment her lashes raised, she was obliged to shut them as a blinding glare filled her vision. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and slowly opened them again.

Sunlight poured through the window, gleaming brilliantly upon three neat piles of coiled, spun gold.

Before Eliana could even react, the door to the lonely chamber opened with a loud creak and a crash. King Hendry’s imposing figure stood in the doorway, and behind him a woman so beautifully dressed that Eliana knew she must be the queen stood on tiptoe to peer over her husband’s shoulder. She let out a delighted cry and grabbed his arm in girlish delight. “See? See? I
told
you!” she exclaimed.

King Hendry stared into the room, his face full of the glow of newly spun gold. “You’ve done it, girl!” he breathed, his voice almost lost in his own overwhelming wonder. “You’ve really spun straw into gold!”

“She’s a treasure! A royal
treasure!
” exclaimed the queen. She pushed past her husband into the room, darted across to the gold piles, plunged her hands in, and lifted gleaming strands of thread as delicate as silk and yet heavy like gold. She gasped in surprise at the weight then laughed and wrapped several strands around her wrist as long, looping bangles. “Darling!” she cried, whirling to face her husband, her cheeks flushed and her eyes brilliant with gold thrill. “We simply
must
present her at court!”

Eliana, who had not yet even managed to pull herself to her feet, felt her heart plummet at this exclamation. The very idea was almost as dreadful to her as the gallows waiting in the courtyard down below.

King Hendry gave her a once over, one gray eyebrow lifting slowly. “Her appearance is not exactly court-worthy,” he said. “Most unsavory. Perhaps tomorrow, when your seamstresses have had time to make her some proper clothes.”

The queen did not protest, for she was too caught up in trying to braid three strands of gold into a woven chain, laughing like a child with greedy delight. Observing his wife, King Hendry suddenly lit up with inspiration. He addressed himself to Eliana once more. “I’m afraid your presentation will have to wait until tomorrow. But never fear! I’ll have a bed and soft blankets and a pillow sent in, so that you may get some proper rest. And then . . .”

He smiled. It wasn’t at all a pleasant expression. “You would not mind doing it again, would you, lass?”

“And what exactly do you think you are doing?”

A terrible thrill ran up the green-eyed man’s spine, and he turned swiftly around, tearing his gaze away from the crystal ball to see the broad, imposing figure of King Oberon standing at the other end of the pillared room.

The king wore magnificent emerald robes that swept the floor with the
shushing
sound of wind in summer trees as he walked, closing the distance between himself and his captain. He was as beautiful as his wife, but more dreadful, more warlike, with a dark brow and darker eyes. Those dark eyes fixed upon the crystal ball. The green-eyed man made a half-hearted attempt to hide it with his body, but King Oberon swept him aside and peered intently into its depths.

“So
this
is what has distracted you from your duties?” the king said, his voice as rich as black velvet but not so soft. “A mortal maid!”

“I am not on duty at present, Your Majesty,” the green-eyed man said, offering a humble bow.

King Oberon shot him a quick glare then turned his attention back to the image in the crystal ball. It revealed Eliana, looking poor in her peasant rags as she knelt on the floor before the mortal king and queen, surrounded by golden work of the faerie’s hand. Yet despite her dowdy clothing and dirty face, there was something about her face . . . something that struck even King Oberon. The green-eyed faerie saw Oberon’s expression momentarily shift, creasing with confusion.

Oberon shook this away, however, and turned from the crystal, folding his powerful arms over his chest, his long sleeves draping almost to the floor. “You have other duties, I am sure.”

“Not at the present moment,” the faerie captain replied, his voice quiet and firm. “Nothing more pressing than this duty. I made a promise, a solemn oath, to protect this maiden from all harm. And she is still in danger. You see, she is—”

“I don’t care to hear the troubles of a mortal,” King Oberon said, holding up a warning hand. He nodded at the crystal. “I see the work of your talented hand, all of that gold-spun straw. Certainly that bounty should buy the girl’s safety. You have more than fulfilled any vow you may have made. It’s time you got back to your real work.”

“And would you value a captain who only half fulfills his word?”

The voice speaking was like springtime itself, and the room filled suddenly with all the perfumes of a blooming garden. Both king and captain turned to see the lithe and graceful form of Titania standing in the doorway, one arm draped against the doorpost, her golden hair shining. She said nothing more. She did not need to. Her jewel-like eyes pierced the distance between herself and her lordly husband, and the two wills clashed in a struggle so brief and yet so dangerous that even the brave faerie captain felt himself shrinking away from them.

Oberon looked away first. The scowl he then fixed upon his captain was dreadful indeed. “You may have one night and no more!” he growled. With that, he stormed from the room, brushing past his wife without a word.

Titania remained in the doorway, smiling softly. She caught the captain’s eye, and her expression was so knowing that the green-eyed faerie blushed and looked quickly away.

CHAPTER NINE

Tears into Glass

Servants brought in a bed, as promised. Six men followed behind, lugging huge bales of straw. These they piled up around the spinning wheel in exchange for the gold thread, which they carried out with them, then shut the chamber door firmly without speaking so much as a word to Eliana. The chamber was darker without the glow from the faerie gold.

Eliana stared at the six bales. Despair settled down over her shoulders once more. Too tired to stand, she sat on the edge of the bed, holding herself very still, telling herself to be strong.

But she couldn’t help it. The tears came, and she buried her face in her pillow.

Now what? What could she possibly do? The faerie had helped her, but to what end? If King Hendry kept asking her to spin more gold, could she really expect such supernatural aid to come to her again and again? Was she expected to do this for the rest of her life? She would swiftly run out of gifts to offer in exchange for the magic!

The day dragged on. At one point in the afternoon, the queen’s own bevy of seamstresses came into the room to take Eliana’s measurements. They left without speaking, though casting several curious glances at the untouched bales of straw. Guards stood watch outside the door. Eliana knew this because they kept banging their lances against the floor and talking to each other in deep murmuring voices. Apparently the king didn’t want his “treasure” to escape.

At last Eliana fell asleep on her bed, clutching her pillow to her chest, a frown etched into her face. She did not wake until moonrise, opening her eyes to see the pale silvery gleam falling through the lonely window.

Suddenly, however, the silvery gleam wasn’t just moonlight. It was a swirl of light there in the room itself, sprouting up from the floor. In the center of the swirl stood a form, and that form materialized into the dark-haired stranger. He blinked his startling green eyes several times before his gaze cleared and fixed upon Eliana where she sat upright in her bed.

Eliana could not help herself. At the sight of her rescuer from the previous night, she burst into tears.

“Oh dear!” cried the faerie. “Is the sight of me as dreadful as all that?” His voice held laughter, however, and he stepped across to kneel before her, fetching a handkerchief from his pocket. Very gently he wiped the tears from her cheeks, taking care not to miss a single one.

“You came back!” Eliana choked, embarrassed but unable to stop her tears quite yet. “I didn’t think you would.”

“Of course I did,” he replied, smiling up at her. “I got you into this mess, didn’t I? I proved your skill to the king, and now he’ll want more proof, naturally. I can’t very well abandon you. How would that fulfill my vow to your mother?”

Eliana sniffed and blinked very hard, finally managing to stop her tears. She smiled weakly but with deep sincerity and whispered a heartfelt “Thank you.”

He did not answer right away, merely gazing at her with a strange expression on his beautiful face. Then he shook his head carelessly, brushing her cheek with his knuckle. “None of that now!” He folded the dampened handkerchief and tucked it away inside his tunic. “Let’s see about this monstrous pile of straw.”

Eliana watched the faerie as he got up, adjusted the position of the spinning wheel, then settled himself upon the low stool with a nod of satisfaction. But then he sprang up again and eyed the bales of straw, considering, his lips pursed.

“What’s wrong?” Eliana asked, rising from the bed.

He looked up at her. “Dear Eliana, may I have your ring?”

She’d known he must ask, of course. Had he not explained last night that without a willing gift he could not perform the magic? Yet the asking struck her to the heart. Her necklace was already gone, and she felt the lack of it sorely, missing the weight of it around her neck and against her heart. The little gold ring was her last token from her mother, her last link to that one she loved so dearly and missed so desperately. All of her world was lost to her—her father, the mill, her friends and neighbors. Must this last, very small item go as well?

But was it worth her life? And was it worth breaking her promise to Mother?

Silently she slipped it from her finger, crossed to the green-eyed man, and pressed it into his outstretched palm. His fingers closed upon hers for a moment, and so they stood, both of them holding the gold ring. Her breath caught in her throat, and she feared that she would disgrace herself with more tears.

“Thank you,” he said at last and released her hand.

The ring vanished into the front of his tunic along with the handkerchief. The green-eyed faerie turned to his work, taking a handful of straw from the nearest bale as he settled back on the stool. “Would you like to help me?” he asked.

“Help you?”

“Yes. This will take a bit longer than last night’s trick. Your King Hendry’s greed has only grown! Another set of hands would be much appreciated.”

Eager to be of use, Eliana agreed. She handed the green-eyed man handfuls of crumbling straw, and he slid it into the spinning wheel’s groove. A thin gold thread wound about the bobbin. Eliana gasped.

The faerie grinned. “Amazed?”

“Yes,” she breathed, watching dumbfounded. She was an unpracticed spinner herself, and she had never seen a wheel used in the manner in which the faerie man used his. “I hardly believed it this morning, but to see you do it . . . You’re wonderful!” Though she hardly knew why, tears pricked in her eyes once more.

“Why, thank you, Eliana,” he replied. He continued to feed straw into the wheel, eyes fixed on his work. “I can do a few good things. Spin straw into gold, weave wool into silver, blow water into glass . . .” His voice trailed off as he looked up and put out a quick finger to catch the tear trailing down her cheek. The tear immediately solidified, turning into a drop of pure, crystalline glass on his fingertip. Eliana saw this and laughed, the rest of her tears immediately vanishing in delight.

The green-eyed man smiled charmingly and pocketed the glass teardrop before continuing his work.

“How did you know my name was Eliana?” she asked suddenly.

He looked up at her with some surprise. “Your name? Oh, well, I . . . lucky guess,” he said, blushing. “It is a beautiful name.”

She narrowed her eyes at him even as she continued to hand him straw. But then, he was a faerie. Was it really so strange that he should be able to guess her name? She decided not and decided as well to trust him. After some silence filled only with the sound of the treadle and the wheel, she said, “I think it only fair that you tell me your name in return.”

He did not look up from his work but rather concentrated still more intently upon the tension of his whirling golden thread. “I do not have a name,” he said at last with some reluctance. With a mirthless laugh, he added, “I’m afraid my parents forgot to name me when I was born.”

Eliana frowned. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am quite serious,” he said, speaking through a forced smile. “I do not have a name.”

She looked sadly at his skillful hands quickly twisting the straw fibers into a strand to be spun into delicate gold. “That’s a shame,” she whispered. “Everyone should have name.”

The whirr of the spinning wheel filled the silence. After a thoughtful pause, Eliana said, “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think I have a home anymore. We’re both missing something important.”

He smiled. “So we are.”

They worked on through the night until Eliana began to grow weary. Eventually her yawns made her more of a hindrance than a help. The faerie paused in his work to give her a gentle push toward the bed.

“Go lie down, lass,” he said. “You have done enough for one night, and I will finish all this with time to spare.”

She could not find the will to protest, but stumbled over to the bed and nestled into the pillow and blankets. As she closed her eyes, the sound of his voice reached out to her, gentle and sweet as a lullaby:

“Round about, round about,

Lo and behold!

Reel away, reel away,

Straw into gold!”