Authors: Ann Hunter
“How could you choose a prince no one has ever
seen
? People say he is a recluse. How do you know if he is even worthy of me? How will he know my beauty?” Glory ran a shaking hand through her hair. “Do you not see how this will make me the laughing stock of the Twelve Kingdoms?” She straightened, raising her chin defiantly. “You are better off allowing me to marry Colin. At least he can
see
me.”
“Let you…” Balthazaar laughed. “Why, the very idea…. Still such an active imagination at this age. Charming.”
Glory leaned over him, hissing, “You are a fool, old man.”
Balthazaar’s face was stern. “You will show me proper respect, girl. Xander assured me Prince Eoghan can care for you. He rules his kingdom with swift justice and an honest heart. Already his lands outnumber ours. It is in our best interest to merge with him and form a Crown Realm.”
Glory slammed her fist against the desk so hard that the quill in the inkwell rattled. “Honesty?” she scoffed. “Eoghan is the son of a
monster
. How can such a person understand our principles? Xander gained those lands for Eoghan through force.”
“What Xander has done was in the interest and preservation of his son. I would have done the same. I have forgiven him.”
“He slaughtered innocent people and burned down our churches!” Glory cried. “How could anyone forgive that?” She crossed her arms and pursed her lips, looking away. “You can not do this to me. I will not consent.” She looked back at her father, her blue eyes flashing. “Colin and I are in love.”
“I assure you that you are not.”
“How would you know?”
Balthazaar rose sluggishly. “You are merely in love with the idea of it all.”
Glory’s eyes widened.
“You are in love with his love for your beauty. What does a girl of fourteen—”
“Fifteen,” Glory interjected.
Balthazaar grimaced. “—know about love?”
“I know enough.”
“What you believe you know is wrong, Glory.”
Glory clenched her fists at her side and was opening her mouth to argue, but Balthazaar waved her off. “My word is final. You may go.”
Glory brushed away a burning tear that formed in the corner of her eye. She clenched her fists as she stormed down the hall.
I am not wrong,
she thought,
Father is wrong. He is a fool! All of my sisters are miserable because of his choices.
Glory brushed away another tear with the back of her hand. It then occurred to her that perhaps her sisters would help her escape unnoticed. If they were so unhappy, surely they would want at least one among them to be spared. Glory hurried to the common room she and her sisters shared. The room was empty, but a fire was crackling in the hearth. Glory tried to think of what she should say. How could she convince them to help her find happiness? A servant entered the room and asked if she could be of service.
Glory inhaled sharply. “Go and fetch my sisters.”
Within a few minutes Ophelia, Odessa, Portia, Alexa and Murtia appeared. They were yawning and rubbing their eyes, unamused to be bothered at this late hour after such a busy day.
“Sisters,” Glory began, “I have summoned you here in the midst of a dire family emergency.”
Instantly, Ophelia burst into tears. “It is Father, isn’t it? Oh, no, Father is dead!”
“Shut up, Ophie,” Alexa chided.
“As you have heard, I am to be wed to Prince Eoghan. This can not come to pass.”
Odessa folded her arms. “Really? Why is that?”
“I am in love with Colin the Falconer. We have already arranged to be married.”
Murtia stretched out on a nearby chaise. “What do you expect us to do about it?”
“I have watched each of you this very night and observed your misery. Not one of you is happy with the match Father has chosen.” Glory paused, reconsidering. “Except Portia, but she chose food.”
Portia looked up from a small table with a turkey leg in her mouth. “I was hungry.”
“You are always hungry.” Murtia rolled her eyes.
“And you are always lazy,” Portia retorted.
Before arguments could break out, Glory regained their attention. “Sisters, I know we are not always kind to each other, but nevertheless, we are still sisters, and I dare say we love each other.”
No one argued that point.
“Now it stands to reason that with you all so unhappy, you may want to see at least one of us happy. Dear sisters, will you not find a way to spare me from the fates you all have suffered?” She looked around at them, the orange firelight dancing off their sleepy faces.
The princesses all looked at each other, then back to Glory.
“Why in the world would we do that?” Alexa asked.
“If we are not happy, why should you be?” Odessa pressed.
Murtia agreed. “Yes, that does seem rather unfair.”
“Because I am in love!” cried Glory. “Have none of you ever been in love before?”
“Of course we have,” Alexa stated. “Father made sure those affairs never came to fruition. There are consequences when it comes to love. Why do you think I--”
Glory glared at her. “You do not count, you man-hungry, beetle-headed gudgeon!”
Odessa cackled at Glory’s spunk. “Alright, little sister,” she soothed. “Say we help you. Then what?”
Glory saw the glimmer of opportunity. “At midnight tonight, Colin will be waiting for me by the garden. We will ride off together and be wed at once. The lot of you will be rid of a burden of a little sister, and I will be free to live my life. I need you all to help me get to him, undetected.”
“That’s so romantic,” sniffled Ophelia.
Alexa beckoned Odessa over and conspired with her. Glory wondered what they were whispering.
“All right, Glory,” Alexa nodded, “we’ll help you. We will whisk you away to your midnight rider, but on one condition.”
“Name it.”
“That when you wake up one morning, you will not hold us responsible for your utter misery.”
Glory smiled. “That will never happen. We will live happily ever after.”
Alexa motioned to the door. “Well, then, sisters, let us to it, post haste. The witching hour approaches.”
Glory felt a rush of excitement and grinned.
Alexa smiled wryly. “We wouldn’t want to keep your bridegroom waiting, would we?”
Glory shook her head no.
The princesses padded down the darkened hallways. Murtia slipped a sleeping potion to the guard by their shared common room. Odessa ordered another to keep quiet or there would be consequences (it helped that she passed him a satchel of gold coins); Ophelia turned a corner and sobbed violently upon another who became equally distraught over trying to calm her. At the Great Hall, Portia distracted the guard with a late-night snack. Finally, Alexa seduced away the most stalwart guard close to the doors of the garden with a husky, “Hey, there, soldier.” Odessa spirited Glory out.
Glory ran to the other side of the garden. Her feet could not carry her fast enough. A cloaked rider on a black horse was silhouetted against the inky, starry sky. He reached down with a calloused hand and pulled her up behind him. Glory, ecstatic, waved goodbye and mouthed enthusiastic
thank yous
to Odessa. Glory gushed to her rider, but he motioned with his hand to keep quiet.
Through the night they rode frantically. The horse’s hooves hammered the ground with staccato, matching the beat of Glory’s heart. The fields rose and fell, undulating with the countryside, as they passed through Edward’s Bane. They splashed through Four Elders Fjord, through all of Iron Berry County and over the banks of the River Trefnwy near Council’s Realm. That was where Glory stopped recognizing her surroundings.
She snuggled close to the cloak, feeling its warmth in the chilly midnight rush. She held her arms tight around the man’s waist and sighed, “Oh, Colin, we’re going to be so happy together. We will make a beautiful home with ample fields and crops, and your falconry trade will afford us a few servants. I would help out, of course, except that I will be too busy keeping myself perfect and pretty for you.”
Glory rambled on and on through the night. The horse’s breaths came rhythmically. He dug in to the earth and sped on when they passed a barren forest of gangly, spectral trees and through a lush, floral fiefdom, barreling up the coast. Cliffs plummeted beside them, the ocean beating against the rocks and black coral. Moonlight glinted off the sea. Something arched through the water that was neither whale nor shark, but serpentine. Glory’s breath caught. “Did you see that?”
The horse’s excitement seemed to grow even more when he raced through an eerie, hilly valley, and crested over a horizon stamped with a wide and ominous Celtic arch.
Glory began to wonder why Colin wasn’t responding to any of her comments. Maybe he couldn’t hear her over the wind and the galloping, so she tried speaking louder, but still no response.
The land changed to high moors, and a castle began to rise in the distance.
A water droplet landed on Glory’s nose. Another on her forehead. One more on her chin as she turned her face skyward. Suddenly she was soaked as the heavens ripped opened and poured out their anguish. Thunder rumbled and a flash of light split the sky. Glory cringed. The castle came into full view. A heavy iron gate began to open.
“Colin, when did you acquire a castle?”
The horse’s hooves clattered into the bailey, slowing to a canter.
Glory felt faint. “You are not Colin, are you?”
Something massive and eerie moved in the shadows ahead.
The horse came to a halt and the rider dismounted. He grabbed Glory’s waist, and the hood of his cloak fell back to reveal a dark-haired man, not at all like Colin. He spoke with a husky brogue. “Do you never shut up? I do not know who this Colin fellow is, but welcome to Blackthorn Keep.”
Glory tried to fight him. “Unhand me at once! Who do you think you are? My father will hear about this.”
Suddenly the massive shape in the shadows took form. It walked through the rain on two scaly forelegs and two furry hind paws. Glory screamed. Her fists pummeled the man’s shoulders, and her feet flailed. The horse spooked. The creature in the rain paced with agitation; its tufted tail swished angrily. “
4
An í seo an cailín
?” it asked in a clear baritone.
The man nodded. “
5
Is í
.”
“How dare you! Do you even know who I am?” Glory howled.
The creature drew closer, its amber eyes fixed on Glory, studying her features. It was a gryphon, something Maeb had scared her with during bedtime stories as a child. Always imagined, she believed, never realized until now. The hair on the back of Glory’s neck stood on end. The gryphon reeked of wet hide and raw meat, a stench far worse than any of her father’s dogs after a soggy foxhunt. Glory felt hollow.
“Send her back,” said the gryphon.
Glory stopped fighting. Both she and the cloaked man asked simultaneously, “What?”
The gryphon’s black beak clacked, yellow ceres flaring. “You promised to bring Eoghan a beautiful princess, Xander.”
“And I have.”
“Indeed!” Glory concurred.
The gryphon’s golden feathers ruffled, and it shook off some of the rain that continued to pour.
“I am the most beautiful princess in all of the kingdoms,” Glory declared.
The gryphon hissed, the fur on its back bristling. “
Greannmhar
6
. All that I can see is ugly.”
Glory’s fear was replaced with fury. She started to flail again, trying to get at the gryphon, but the man wouldn’t let her. “How dare you! Why I never—”
The gryphon’s eyes flashed at Xander. “
Níl sí tarraingteach dom
. Send her back.”
“Please be reasonable,” Xander petitioned.
Magnificent wings spread over the gryphon’s body. With an angry screech, he leapt into the air, beating the sky in an upward spiral until he disappeared behind Blackthorn’s highest bastions.
Xander’s face was haggard. “I am sorry, Princess Glory. I hope you will not mind.”
Glory, held together only by her indignation, clenched her fists. “I certainly
do
mind! No one speaks to me like that.”
Xander sighed. “If you come with me, I’ll take you to your quarters.”
Glory stomped her foot in the mud. “I will not!”
Xander respired. “Look, you self-fawning tot, you have two choices. You can come inside and not catch your death, or you can stand there and rot in this bloody rain.”
Glory’s breath rose like a specter on the air.
Xander offered a sarcastic, toothy smile. “We wouldn’t want to spoil that pretty little head of yours, Princess.”
Glory crossed her arms. “I am not going anywhere.”