The Spinner and the Slipper (8 page)

CHAPTER TWELVE

Broken Hearts

A key slid into the bedroom door, and King Hendry entered a breath later with his queen two steps behind. Both stood in mute amazement, staring round at the piles and spools of shining gold, more gold than either had ever dared dream of in all their years as ruling monarchs.

Then King Hendry’s eye lit upon the maid lying upon the floor. “Gracious me!” he exclaimed. “Is she dead?”

The next moment both king and queen, their servants crowding in behind them, knelt over Eliana. The queen felt for a pulse and breathed a grateful prayer when she found one—not out of any real concern for Eliana but rather from relief that they had not lost their gold-spinner.

“The work may have been too taxing,” King Hendry mused, sitting back on his heels and looking round at the mounds of gold. “She’s not used to producing this much at a time, and we’ve worked her hard three nights running.”

The queen stood and beckoned to her servants. “Take the gold to the royal treasury at once. And see that my ladies weave gold cloth for the finest dress! Lady Gold-Spinner must be presented on the third night of the Spring Advent Ball wearing a dress of her own creation.”

The servants hastened to obey. As an afterthought the queen commanded them to lift Eliana up from the floor and place her gently on her bed as well. After all, it wouldn’t do for a new lady of the realm to spend her day sleeping on the rug!

By the time Eliana stirred, the room was empty of the gold. King Hendry and his queen had slipped away long before, and only one serving maid sat perched on a low chair near Eliana’s bed, ready to wait upon her new mistress the moment she awoke.

Eliana sat up, blinking in confusion. Her mind crashed with such a confusion of thoughts, she could not even hear the maid’s queries after her health. She drew her knees up and pressed her aching forehead into them, willing the pounding in her head to subside.

At last some memories fell into order. She recalled coming to Craigbarr in the cart. She recalled the king’s command to spin straw into gold. And . . . somehow, she had done it? How?

Her mother’s necklace. And the ring. Both were gone. And her mother . . . yes, Mother had been a faerie! Somehow she knew that, though she could not remember how she knew. Was it her mother’s magic that had enabled her to do the impossible? Lingering enchantment in the necklace and ring, used up to accomplish this strange request of the king’s?

Something was missing. Something that hurt. The more she pressed into that emptiness where some important memory should be, the more the ache in her temples flared until she almost could not bear to think for pain.

“My lady!” exclaimed the maid. “Please, please, lie back. They say the magic has used you up, leaving you weak.  You must rest and recover or you’ll not be fit to attend the Spring Advent Ball next week!”

Eliana lifted her head and blinked blearily at the maid, a sweet-looking girl with buttercup-colored curls peeking out from under her maid’s cap. Her kind, round eyes were full of concern, and Eliana allowed her fearful heart to trust in that homespun voice and obey its pleadings. She lay back on her pillow and let the maid soothe her head with cool cloths. Slowly the pain subsided.

“There, there,” said the maid. “You’ll soon be right as rain, my lady.”

“Why do you call me that?” Eliana whispered. “Why do you call me ‘my lady’?”

The maid blinked at her then smiled. “Because that’s what you are! Or soon will be. King Hendry has declared that you will be named Lady Gold-Spinner on the third night of the Spring Advent Ball. You’re to be given a fine estate in the country, lands to call your own, a stable of fine horses, and a houseful of servants! All in thanks for the great service you have rendered your sovereign.” The maid’s smile brightened still more, and her eyes gleamed with delight. “They say that the king and queen hope to see you wed Prince Ellis. Just so long as you take a liking to one another, of course.”

Eliana closed her eyes. It was all too much, too much to consider! And why did the idea of marrying a prince fill her with so much . . . sorrow?

In the darkest, deepest chambers of the faerie king’s palace, far from all sunlight, from all song, from all joy, the green-eyed man lay bent under the weight of his chains.

He wept softly in the darkness. Tears worth more than jewels trailed down his cheeks. Realizing this, he put a hand into his tunic front and withdrew his handkerchief—the same handkerchief that still held Eliana’s precious tears. He caught his own tears now, letting them mingle with hers. At least in their sorrows they might be united. Even though they should never meet again.

How long would Oberon keep him bound in this dungeon? One century? Two? It hardly mattered to an immortal life. But the green-eyed man did not doubt that by the time he was released, Eliana would be dead and gone. Cherished in his memory, but lost to him forever.

At this thought he wept still more. In all his beautiful fey life he had never cried so much except for this girl. First, when she lost her father and he witnessed her so heartbroken. Now this, when he himself lay heartbroken . . .

And she? She would never think of him again. Not even as she might think of the memory of a dream.

A door opened somewhere in the darkness. Footsteps, feather-light like a dancer’s tread, descended a long stair. The faerie captain looked up and saw luminous golden hair and two brilliant eyes like stars in the night.

Queen Titania stood over him, her arms folded, and shook her head. “Is this all that heroes are these days? Do they so easily break at the first breath of trouble?”

The green-eyed faerie drew himself up as straight as he could under those heavy chains. “I have crossed my king,” he said, swallowing back his tears. Now shame rose in his heart, for he was a loyal soldier. “I have disobeyed him and now must suffer his wrath.”

“Piffle!” said she with a toss of her head. “Had you not disobeyed, the girl would even now swing from the gallows! My husband takes whims into his head, unfair though they may be, and expects everyone to bow to his tyrannical will. It’s not good for a man to be so absolutely obeyed in all things!”

The green-eyed man bowed his head and said nothing. The truth was, though he hated to flout the wishes of his master, he would do it all over again if it meant the difference between life and death for Eliana. He would lie here in the darkness of King Oberon’s dungeons for a thousand years if it meant she might live a rich, full life, even without a single memory of him in her head. Perhaps she would marry the prince. Perhaps she would fall in love and live happily ever after.

Titania seemed to read these thoughts in his head. “What is this? Are you truly going to lie there like a limp rag? Get up, my man! Take action! You’ll win your sweetheart yet!”

The green-eyed man stared up at his queen, unable to comprehend what she said. At last he said, “What would you have me do?”

She smiled. It was the most dangerous smile ever seen in all the worlds, and it was utterly beautiful. “Make something for me. Use your secret powers and make what I ask. If you will do this, I promise you, everything will turn out right in the end.”

“Make what, my queen?” he asked.

She whispered the answer in his ear.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Feigned Pleasantries

“Mistress Carlyn and Misses Bridin and Innis, my lady.”

Eliana sat in the window, gazing out across the courtyard and the city into the countryside beyond, like a prisoner gazing out to freedom. She turned at the sound of her maid Martha’s voice and saw the sweet girl bobbing a curtsy in the doorway.

The next moment her stepmother and two stepsisters, clothed in their shabby finery, swept into the room.

“
Dearest
Eliana!” exclaimed Mistress Carlyn, and flew across the room, catching Eliana in an embrace before the girl had a chance to dodge her clutching hands. “Bridin, Innis, and I have been
so worried
for you! Of course we knew, we just
knew
that somehow you would prove your worth to the king and queen, but
still . . .
”

Eliana pulled back sharply, standing up from the window seat and putting some distance between herself and her stepmother. Her clothing, though the simplest she’d been able to find, was finer by far than anything Mistress Carlyn wore, and she saw how her stepmother looked her up and down with envy in her cold eyes and jealousy behind her insincere smile.

This woman had tried to have her killed. Inadvertently, perhaps, but the fact remained. And now she dared to call her ‘dearest’ and to claim concern? It made Eliana’s stomach turn.

She moved away from Mistress Carlyn and addressed herself to her stepsisters instead. “Bridin. Innis. How are you both?”

They both offered awkward curtsies, and Innis managed a small smile. “We’re well, Eliana,” she murmured.

“And how is Grahame? And all the animals?”

“They’re well too,” Innis said. “Grahame sends his best—”

“Oh,
don’t
bother your sister with all of that!” Mistress Carlyn cried, seating herself as grandly as she could in the finest chair in the chamber. “Did you hear, Eliana? Your sisters and I have been invited to attend the Spring Advent Ball along with you tomorrow night. Is that not most grand and glorious?”

Eliana could think of nothing to say in response to this. For the last week she had dreaded the coming ball. Now she might have to attend it in company with this false family of hers? She could only hope that the crowds would be so dense that she might effectively avoid them through the three nights of festivity.

“Tell me, Eliana, do tell me,” Mistress Carlyn persisted, leaning forward in her seat, her eyes full of eager ambition. “They say that you are to be betrothed to the prince on the third night of the ball. Is this true?”

Eliana’s mouth went dry. “I don’t know,” she said simply and honestly.

“Because just
think
what it would mean for your family!” Mistress Carlyn persisted. “Why, dukes and lords would come courting your sisters, given the opportunity to marry into the royal family itself! Surely you must think of their futures, dear girl. After all, we have looked after you throughout these last two years . . .”

Eliana glanced at Bridin and Innis, who at least had the good grace to look ashamed. They stared at their folded hands, still standing close to the door as though they would make a quick escape if given half a chance. Not for the first time, Eliana pitied them. It could not be easy to live under the thumb of such a mother.

“Well, tut,” said Mistress Carlyn, when no answers to her questions were forthcoming. “If you don’t know, you don’t know. But surely you must know when you will take possession of your new estate? I understand it is very grand indeed, with rolling farm fields and a lake and woodlands. You’ll no doubt remain on at court after the betrothal, but I thought your sisters and I might move in as soon as possible. We’ve already put the mill up for sale, of course, and . . .”

She prattled on, and Eliana ceased listening. She could not believe anything that was said, could not believe that this had become her life. How in heaven’s name had she come from her father’s humble mill to be here in the king’s palace, listening to Mistress Carlyn discuss the bountiful wealth that was soon to be hers?

How had she managed to do the impossible? To spin straw into gold?

The question burned across her mind, and Eliana frowned at the return of the sudden searing headache. With a little moan she sat down on a low seat, putting her head in her hand.

Maid Martha, observing all, quickly stepped into action. “My lady is fatigued,” she declared in a forceful voice. “She is still recovering from her exertions of a week ago. You must all leave now and give her time to rest so that she may be fresh and ready for tomorrow night’s ball.”

With this cheerful urging she managed to get Mistress Carlyn up from her seat and out the door, Bridin and Innis hastening on her heels. She shut the door in their wake and turned back to Eliana, hastening to her side. “Dear lady!” she said, taking Eliana by the hand. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

Eliana allowed herself to be helped up and to her bed. A week had not yet accustomed her to being served by another, but Martha had such a homey way about her, and her sweetness was hard to resist.

“You’ll forgive my saying so,” Martha murmured as she fetched a cool basin of water and applied a damp cloth to Eliana’s pounding forehead, “but that Mistress Carlyn . . . she don’t seem much like you. I would never have guessed she was your mother!”

“Stepmother,” Eliana whispered. “My mother died years ago.”

“Oh, I am right sorry to hear that,” said Martha. “Now she, I am sure, was a fine and beautiful lady worthy of crowns and diadems! A real princess.”

“She was,” Eliana replied, closing her eyes. “She was indeed.”

A tear slipped down her cheek and dampened her pillow. But the headache did at last subside.