~Continued from Faded Legacy, Chapter Five
Chapter Six
I couldn’t catch up to Alaric, and he ignored me the rest of the night. Regita and I met for the Midnight Dance, and she formally claimed me as her Partner, then left me to join her comrades after reminding me to be available for the Final Dance.
Alaric spent the rest of the night dancing with my various cousins, though he danced the Midnight Dance and the Final Dance with Brad. He didn’t claim Brad as Partner, though, and I thought my brother might be a bit disappointed.
He waved it off when I asked him, however. We were walking up the passage to return to the family seat at the time and I was wondering how Rose could dance all night and then still glide up the passage like she wasn’t even tired. I nearly missed Brad’s answer when he said that he quite liked several of the Princes, and didn’t mind not being Claimed. “We could be doing this a while, you know,” he said. “There’s time.”
Not if I can help it, I thought, but didn’t say anything. I couldn’t understand how he could like any of the Princes; they all, even Regita, gave me the serious heebs. I didn’t have the energy to argue with him, though. I just wanted to get out of my gown and crawl into bed.
###
And things continued in the same vein for the next several days. We met, we sewed, and I grew more frustrated as I was unable to find enough time to research. Marcus joined us sporadically, while Amber and Faith joined the Sewing Circle with unbounded enthusiasm. I sewed my seams – Brad noticed that I’d stopped, and demanded that I do a minimum of one practice seam each time we sewed – and stewed.
I mean, Brad wasn’t an ogre or anything. I did find time to go to the library and I found plenty to read, both for pleasure and about the family geas. But I found that the stuff that was supposed to be about the family geas didn’t have much meat. There were no real explanations as to how it came about; instead, it seems my ancestors that were concerned about the matter were more focused on the differences between the reality and the fairy tale.
I did find one thing in a footnote to a monograph written by one of my great-great uncles – so glad that I habitually read footnotes! The footnote, a mere single line, read: “family lore states that a Princess was responsible for the Door, but that has not been substantially proven.”
I was sitting in my bed reading the above mentioned monograph when I hit that footnote and I sat up ramrod straight. I didn’t know that!
Everything I’d ever heard, and everything I’d found to date had said that the original Door was opened by Faerie and the Princesses stumbled on it by accident. This theme had been bothering me for quite some time, given how the Princes seemed to hold all of us in such low regard. In fact, if Alaric and Regita were any indication, the Princes seemed to resent the geas as much as I did.
I needed to talk to Alaric next Dance. I started to go ask Rose when it would be, but realized that she’d probably be disinclined to answer me if I banged on her bedroom door at 1:40 a.m.
I’ll ask her tomorrow at breakfast, I told myself, and then my eyes closed and I drifted off to sleep.
I stumbled into the breakfast room the next day, bleary-eyed and longing for caffeine, any caffeine, tea, coffee, whatever it might be.
Brad waved me over to sit by him and Rose, filling my cup with something hot and steamy as I pulled my chair out and fumbled into my seat. I inhaled deeply and picked up the cup. Rose smiled at me and I smiled back, then stopped. There was something I’d wanted to ask her, but my restless night of confused dreams had left me rather unable to think. Maybe whatever is in my cup will help, I thought, and took a long sip.
A glorious dark roast liberally creamed, poured across my tongue. I took another deep sip and sighed.
“Bad night?” my brother asked, taking the toast Rose had buttered and handed to him. He set the small plate in front of me. “Eat, Iris,” he encouraged.
I ate. I drank more coffee, and the refill Brad poured for me. And finally, my brain woke up. I asked, “Rose, when is the next Dance?”
She closed her eyes and pursed her lips. “Two days,” she murmured. She opened her eyes and looked at Brad. “Will we have enough time to finish everyone’s clothes?”
Brad nodded, looking unconcerned. “We’re just finishing embellishments, and Iris needs the collar fitted on her bodice. We’ll deal with that today.”
I nodded. Brad had decided that we’d all dress to a theme this time, and he’d somehow persuaded us to do Disney fairy tales. I was an Evil Queen (I’m still not sure if I was supposed to be Maleficent or the one from Snow White) and needed a large standing collar on my dress/cloak/whatever I was wearing.
“We can do that right after breakfast, if you want,” I said. The sooner I got the fitting done, the sooner I could get back to my book and my plans.
Brad agreed, and once we all finished – and I had a third cup of coffee – we trooped to the sewing rooms. Rose and Brad made me stand in a mirrored alcove while they fitted the collar. The dress this time was a deep blue, nearly black, and it was an empire-waist style with a cloak attached at the collar and shoulders. The cloak bit needed the collar.
We’d been debating the collar for days. I had objected to all of their suggestions because the collars Brad had originally designed were ridiculously large; I couldn’t see anything but the collar in my peripheral vision, and turning my head was out. Also, I swear I nearly lost an eye on one of the points, but Brad insisted that I was just being dramatic.
Finally, we’d come up with a design I liked, but it took him, Rose, me, and Giselle, of all people. The collar was lightly boned, but would lay flat across my shoulders, looking like a demi-cloak. I had wrist cuffs with silver chains attached that would pull it upright to make the silhouette Brad desired. I quite liked the intricacy of wearing a mechanical dress, and promised Brad I’d make my entrance with the collar up.
###
The Dance arrived and we all gleefully donned our clothing – I refused to call what we were wearing anything but costumes, and Brad laughed but didn’t correct me on that – and made our way to the dock. All the same: tunnel, dock, boat, me/Rose/Brad, herald, entrance. Though this time, the group of us in costume entered together, slightly behind the others. I thought I saw our Guide smile, but when I checked again, he wore his usual stony look. Still, he held us back until the hall was clear of our cousins before allowing us to enter as a group. Brad shot me a look and I obediently opened my collar. He smiled and nodded and I had to smile back, because well, it was Brad.
Everyone in the ballroom stopped and watched our entrance. Then noise swelled through the room as the courtiers applauded. Brad stepped forward and bowed. Behind his back, he motioned the rest of us forward to join him. We did, then we bowed/curtseyed in unison, and the applause swelled again.
Finally, we were allowed to Dance. Regita came to claim me, and I noticed that once again, Alaric had asked Brad. I tried to get his attention, but he either didn’t see or ignored me. Regita asked, “The boy who bowed, did he come up with this?”
I nearly missed a step. Regita wasn’t in the habit of conversing while we danced. Mostly, we danced the required numbers (in silence usually), then went our own ways.
“Um, yes? He gets bored with things after a while. He thought a theme might be fun, so here we are.”
“Watch him,” she said. “Creativity is…desirable here.”
I blinked. “What?”
But the music ended and she stepped away. “See you at the Midnight Dance, Princess.”
I chewed my lip as I watched her walk across the dance floor to join her companions at their table. I started to follow my Prince, to demand an explanation, but a movement caught my eye. Something glinted in the mouth of the doorway where the tunnels and locked rooms were.
I checked, and didn’t see Alaric anywhere among the dancers. Maybe that’s him? He’s waiting for me? I hurried across the floor, trying to look inconspicuous and cursing under my breath. My dress definitely drew attention. The other dancers caught my eyes, nodded, gestured, or somehow acknowledged me as I tried to pass.
This isn’t going to work. I stopped halfway to my goal; too many people had noted my passage. I would have to either figure out a way to ditch my costume or wait for another Dance.
I had started to move toward a table of drinks when I saw the gleam again, but still couldn’t tell who or what it was. I looked to my right and saw Alaric. He stood by the creepy statue, watching the people swirling around him, face devoid of emotion, but his eyes glittered. I shuddered. I was looking for him, but suddenly didn’t want to be anywhere near him. I was glad when I spotted Brad dancing with an elegant woman, a courtier, not a Prince. At least he’s well away from that one right now, I thought.
I cut my eyes to the corridor. The glimmer was gone, but I was more on fire to check it out than before. I took a step forward, but stopped when I realized it looked as though I was heading toward the table of drinking Princes, the one Regita warned me to avoid.
I changed course, angling through and around to come behind the drinkers. There were columns there, bracing the ceiling, and a narrow passage behind them for servers and other people to pass without disturbing the drinking.
I slipped behind the columns and did my best to pass noiselessly, feeling very glad that tonight’s dress was a soft velvet instead of noisy taffeta. I took a step, another, and froze when I heard an unfamiliar voice say a very familiar name.
A Prince I didn’t know said the name again. Irissa. My great-great-great (maybe one more? I’m not sure) grandmother. The one that found the door and started it all (maybe).
The one I was named for.
I tried to hurry, but still remain quiet and unobtrusive. I wanted to get closer to hear what they were discussing. I wanted to know why they were talking about my ancestor.
I managed to make my way behind the pillars without anyone, especially the Princes seated at the table, seeing me.
I hoped so, anyway.
I leaned against the wall, trying to hear. I didn’t want to get much closer. The pillars weren’t exactly wide.
“Do you think he still thinks it was worth it?” the same voice said again.
“Why don’t you ask him, if you want to know so badly?” a rough voice interjected, heavy with bitterness. I knew that one; that was Kor, the half-satyr that had partnered me the first Dance and had made a point of avoiding me ever since.
There was a clatter, then a shout, then just…noise. I peeked around the column to see Regita standing over Kor, with her sword point beneath his chin.
“Do not speak of this, especially not to make light of it,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. I leaned a bit further, to see if anyone had noticed the altercation. Since people were still dancing and the music was still swirling, I supposed that no one had seen.
Regita continued. “Speaking of that time, speaking that name, brings notice to us. And notice brings…consequences.” She glanced up, and I swear she caught my eyes. She blinked slowly, then looked back at Kor.
I didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. I ducked back behind the pillars and tried to calm my racing heart. I need to get away now, now, now!
I dragged my skirts up and fled, hoping I was silent enough. Once I made it back to the main part of the room, I stopped by the banquet table. I needed a drink, and I needed to think. I still needed to talk to Alaric, but that could wait. I had a new avenue to pursue as soon as this Dance was over.
~To be continued….
When The Reverie Breaks 