In which all the
heroes and heroines become acquainted with one another;
Musetta swoons;
And the Simon children meet their
mother
***
Hi there! This is an extra-long installment since it's been a while. I'm making minor adjustments and additions as I go along: the big one in this chapter being that the Simon family's house/kingdom finally has a name! Enjoy. :)
***
Genevieve knew
that she had been right in telling her brother not to worry.
Granted, she
couldn't deny the small twinge of disappointment that she immediately
felt in her own stomach. How she had hoped that this would be the
time; this would be it – that, regardless of what purposes for
which the King might have summoned him here, they might have had
something to do with her own dilemma. The locket had been weighing
so heavily, lately. She'd been lingering in bed each morning and
dragging her feet through each day, unsure of whether the ache was
concentrated in her shoulders, or in her heart.
But now, the veil
lifted and her eyesight unobscured, she realized that any sense of
disappointment was largely irrelevant to the situation at hand.
The small,
sweet-faced boy (she found it incredible that he was supposed to be
one whole year older than her; he could have passed for seventeen –
then again, she shouldn't talk for she was quite tiny herself) was
staring straight at her. His plain brown eyes were wide, beneath
plain brown hair and over tired gray circles; but they were
wondering, not mocking. Gen observed Prince Percival in light of his
sisters (who, one red-gold and the other black-white, seemed to be
two sides of the same exotic coin), and decided that she had never
seen anyone so charmingly ordinary.
The glance of
mutual appraisal was broken when, suddenly, the taller of the sisters
staggered on her feet, and began a graceful descent to the ground.
Prince Percival jumped to catch her with a soft exclamation.
“Oh! I assure
you, she does not mean the slightest offense! In fact, she faints
out of sheer delight over things quite frequently,” he hurried to
explain. Gen eyed the swooning princess dubiously. She heard a soft
snort, and turned to see Mortimer practically doubled over in
suppressed laughter.
“It could have
been worse. It could have been much, much worse,” Hamlin was
saying plaintively.
“Shush, both of
you!” Gen snapped, and clapped her hands. A servant rushed in,
his white gloves pumping. “Fetch cool water for the princess,”
Gen ordered, and the servant rushed away once more.
“Your Highness,”
Gen said, turning back to the prince, “there's no need to apologize
for anything. We are delighted simply that you and your sisters
haven't yet run away screaming.”
Prince Percival's
eyes sparkled. “Well, don't get too excited, my Lady. I've
endured an awful lot over the past ten hours or so, and am likely to
snap at any moment. Where is the exit again?” He asked, peering
around with a grin.
Genevieve laughed
out loud at this, and then coughed, startled at the sound of her
voice. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed like that.
She averted the prince's gaze with a blush, and noticed instead that
the redheaded sister was glancing from her brother, to Gen, and back
again, a look of quiet interest on her face.
The servant came
running back, bearing a glass of water. Gen noticed that Prince
Percival thanked the servant – warmly, though he seemed unsure of
where to look – before taking the glass and holding it to his
sister's lips.
“If I may ask,
how are you faring?” Gen ventured. “Truly?”
The prince looked
up at her, his eyes suddenly tired and serious again. “I hardly
know,” he said simply. “To be quite honest, I have no idea
what's going on. I feel as though before, even just one day ago, I
never would have been able to accept any of this. And yet look at
me, at all of us.”
Gen beamed at him,
at his simple, honest face. Suddenly, everything that she'd been
holding back - everything that she'd longed to share for the past
three years – came bubbling up to her lips.
Not just yet.
It must happen bit by bit, or else they will truly become
overwhelmed, and they will turn away.
She bit her
tongue. Yes, Papa, she replied.
But oh, how she
yearned to simply whisk the prince and his sisters away into one of
the corridors, into each and every room, upstairs and down, out to
the the gardens, everywhere; to show them Minnowway, and watch it
cast its enchantment...
Gen caught the
redheaded sister staring again, and watched as her wary regard melted
into the very sweetest of smiles. Her face glowed pink, and she
looked away shyly.
The sister who Gen
had decided must be Musetta stirred in her brother's arms. Her
eyelids fluttered open, and she smiled beatifically at Gen and
Hamlin.
“You are
real,” she said softly. Prince Percival stood and helped her to
her feet. He looked back up at Gen.
“I know,”
the small, ordinary, brown-haired prince continued, a wry smile
playing about his lips, “I know for a fact that if I were to go
back this very moment and tell anyone at home about this, they'd
think I was mad.”
“Anyone?
Really? Oh, I don't know about that,” Gen murmured, smiling down
at her shoes and pushing back the names that fizzled about in her
mouth. She looked up to see the prince staring at her with a mixture
of frustration and amusement. He was shaking his head.
“And still, the
mystery deepens. Puzzle within puzzle, just like a nesting doll.
You're all relentless. I hope you know I've got at least two
thousand questions, and I expect them all to be answered.” Despite
his exasperated words, his face was flushed and his chest was
swelling with deep breaths. The air is full of wine, at
Minnowway. Gen thought it would make a good book title.
“As is only
fitting,” she replied, grinning and spreading her hands. “So,
let's begin. Follow me.” And she turned and made for the stone
archway. It was time to show them the Library.
As they all walked
out and past the great central staircase, Genevieve was seized by the
strongest desire to hear from the one person who had yet to open her
mouth. Gen whirled around to face the little redheaded sister.
“Princess
Soleil,” she said, “the first question belongs to you.”
***
Soleil was feeling
too many things at once for her to keep count of on her fingers, and
so she had settled for gripping the skirts of her plum silk gown
(which was quite rumpled by now, anyway).
First, she was in
awe of the lovely cat-people. (Their faces – and, it seemed, their
whole bodies – were covered in a layer of fine, snow-white fur.
Their noses were pink and snubbed, with white whiskers underneath.
Their ears stood on top of their heads in velvety-looking triangles,
and their eyes were overwhelming, blue-marbled affairs rimmed with
thick, white lashes.) The young woman was as perfect and dainty as
something out of a book, and her brother, though he seemed a little
stiff and gloomy, was fearsomely handsome and seemed quite nice, as
well.
Then, Soleil was
also embarrassed over Musetta fainting (Etta always fainted. In
fact, she always did things that drew attention, regardless of
whether or not they were on purpose). Thirdly, she was surprised
that, for some reason, the cat-woman had been able to bring out the
twinkle in Percy's eye (which had been missing for quite some time).
The youngest of
the Simon siblings also felt cramped (it had been too long for heels
and corset), giddy (because magical things were suddenly real),
afraid (because who was to say that it wasn't just a dream, after
all?), warm (because all of these feelings were causing her to
blush), heartache-y (because everything made her think of Mama),
confused (because nothing had yet been explained), and silly (because
part of her didn't even desire or need an explanation).
But there was one
feeling that kept trying to surface from beneath all of these. It
fluttered sweetly within her, as warm and vibrant as one of the bees
that had grazed against her cheeks and lips. As everyone moved
through the corridor just beyond the great hall, she stole a
backwards glance at the man who called himself Mortimer. She didn't
know what to think of him – only that he was terribly beautiful,
with his tall, willowy frame and glassy green eyes; that when he'd
complimented her, regardless of his motivations, he'd not been trying
to get something from her; and that, although it was supposedly the
Cat Siblings who were the recluses, it was Mortimer who seemed, for
some reason, to stand outside.
“Princess
Soleil,” someone called in a rich, husky voice. “The first
question belongs to you.”
Soleil snapped out
of her reverie to see Genevieve, the cat-girl, smiling at her, blue
eyes glittering playfully.
“Oh,” Soleil
murmured, clasping her hands self-consciously. Why was she being put
on the spot?
“Well,” she
said, after a moment, “we probably ought to begin at the beginning.
Who was our mother? And what connection did she have to Minnowway?”
With no response
but a wink, Genevieve beckoned the three siblings to a mahogany door
adorned with a big, brass knob. She seemed to be enjoying all this
immensely, her steps buoyant and smart; her pink lips smugly pleased.
The tiny creature reached out and drew the door open.
Soleil was the
first one through. She caught her breath at the sight that met her
eyes: row upon row of books lined every wall of the library. A
wrought-iron staircase began over to the left and spiraled up into a
lofted second floor, also filled to the brim with colorful,
lush-looking volumes. Further ladders leaned against each bookcase,
allowing for access to any book. An enormous dome overstretched all,
and Soleil realized it was one big mosaic: countless little tiles
made to form stars, planets, sky, clouds – at the center of all was
fixed a huge sun, just like the pendant that Mama had given to Percy.
Ornate candelabrum were suspended over a few tables in the center of
the room.
Genevieve walked
to one of the tables, opened a draw beneath the tabletop, and pulled
out a thick, leather-bound volume. “Please, have a seat,” she
said, setting the book upon the table. Soleil took one of the carved
wood chairs, and Percy and Musetta came to sit on either side of her.
Genevieve and the two men sat down on the other side of the table.
“This book was
your mother's,” Genevieve said gently. Soleil placed a hand upon
the buttery leather cover, and felt anger simmer within her. What
were they doing with her mother's belongings?
“She entrusted
it to us months ago, when she knew the end was near,” Genevieve
explained. “We've been guarding it for you.” The fire in
Soleil's chest cooled. She ran her fingers over an embossment upon
the leather - “GEO”.
“Geo?” She
queried, glancing up at Genevieve.
The cat-girl bit
her lips. “It's an acronym,” she explained.
“What for?”
Musetta asked, sounding intrigued.
“It stands for
the Guild of Enchanted Ones,” Hamlin interjected gruffly. “It's
a very old organization. Your mother was a part of it.”
“Just open the
book,” Genevieve advised.
Soliel complied
hesitantly.
A letter had been
pinned to the inside front cover. Soleil removed it carefully. She
recognized her mother's handwriting.
January 14th,
1763
My darlings,
If you are reading this, it means
that you have already arrived at Minnowway, and have met Genevieve,
Hamlin, and Mortimer. Know that they are good people, and
trustworthy, and that they, along with the others, will become the
best friends you'll ever have.
I do not have long. I can already
feel the fever burning away at my thoughts. I am so, so, sorry, my children,
that I was never able to explain everything to you myself. I always
wanted to, of course, but the time was never right. Or perhaps I was
too tentative, too afraid of what such an unveiling would mean for
our country, for everyone. The Magic is such as wildfire – when
one person catches, he finds it impossible to keep it to himself, and
must spread it on, and so on.
But the three of you are not at all
timid. You are so brave. Thank you for taking the leap to trust the
Beaulieu family. Once I am gone, your Papa will be in great danger.
Do not worry – Marion, Sophie, and several other of our servants –
dear friends of mine – will be there to protect him while you three
learn what you must learn, and prepare for what is to come.
I love you. I will see you again.
Mother
Soleil's eyes
blurred over as she finished the letter. She couldn't help but
wonder what Mother meant by “I will see you again.” Was she
referring to some sort of afterlife? Percy slid his arm over
Soleil's shoulders and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Good old
Marion,” he murmured.
Soleil pinned the
piece of parchment back to the inside of the book, and turned to the
first page.
October 6th,
1744
Began tonight. Took what I've
learned and went, as I had been told, out into the streets. Visited
an impoverished family in the ghetto. Brought them food and drink.
They did not recognize me; told them I was from a charity
organization. One of their sons was sick with what seemed to be a
chest cold. I cast a charm of healing upon him, and by the time I
left, his cough was clearing up. Asked them if they'd like to hear a
fairytale, and told them Nadette's and William's story, of course
using the mythologized form of “The Beauty and the Beast”. I
kept it as close to truth as possible without seeming unusual. They
were entertained; I think they thought me quaint. It matters not –
I'll try again next time. Asked them if they knew of any pregnant
mothers in the area who might not be able to afford the services of a
physician or midwife. They gave me names, which I took down. These
women and their families will be the ones I visit next.
For some reason, I have developed a
cough. It seemed to arise just as the little boy's was fading.
Don't know what this entails. I will find out soon enough.
Soleil gaped at
book.
“They were
true,” Musetta said faintly. “The rumors were true.”
Soleil turned the
page.
October 17th,
1744
Tended to a young, unwed pregnant mother tonight. Gave her nutritious things to eat and took down the
time around when we might expect the baby. Her family largely
disregarded me, but I told her of “The Frog Prince” and she
listened with the same earnest, rapt delight with which she'd no
doubt listened to her lover. I had the satisfaction of knowing that,
this time, the story was true.
Also visited elderly couple whose
children had moved away. The man had fallen and cut open his arm
days ago; the wound was already red and swollen. Washed it and
applied a poultice; sneaked in a charm of purging and binding. Made
conversation with them about the Magic of everyday life, how it is
all around us, and potent in each moment; they agreed vigorously. I think they understood, if only on a surface-deep level. The Magic is deeper in them than they know,
perhaps because they are old enough that they're becoming like
children again.
Lastly
visited family whose daughter has what seems to be tuberculosis. I
administered a healing charm, but also a blessing of peace over the
house. My magic is not that strong yet. They are going to lose her.
There are not enough of me. I wish
that some of my brothers and sisters could come join me here in Rosegate to help fight
all the despair and depravity I see amongst my people. But perhaps
it is right this way. I am their Queen.
I've acquired enchanted poppy
pollen to assist me in casting a forgetfulness spell over everyone
whom I visit. They remember my words and actions, but not my face.
It will be safe, for now, this way. I shiver to think what would
happen if Thomas found out. He became so angry with me the last time
I tried to speak to him about fairytales, even playfully. Each time
I go out, I place a charm upon his mind that will divert it from
thoughts of me until I return. I do not know how strong it is,
though, so I am taking a risk each time I go. It's a risk that must
be taken.
It seems as though, when I perform
a healing, the patient's ailment transfers itself to me, in a milder,
often invisible form. My arm is aching, and my lungs are on fire,
but I am perfectly healthy and able. At least, I must be, for my
baby will arriving any week. It is a feisty one, already, hammering
away inside of me. I will have to take a break to tend to this
little one.
Soleil
tried to take all of this in. She knitted her eyebrows at the page.
She thought she was beginning to understand.
“She means you,
Etta,” Percy said, leaning forward to look over at their sister.
Etta merely giggled in reply. Her eyes were shining.
The next entry
read:
December 2nd,
1744
I have been
shaken to the core.
Tonight was my first night back.
Little Etta can't bear to be separated from me, so I strapped her to
my front beneath my cloak and channeled all my heat to her in order
to keep her warm.
I visited as many houses as I could
before Etta got too fussy, and then headed back to Rosegate. It was
just beginning to snow. I was passing the last building before the
lawn surrounding the castle, when my eye caught sight of a dark form
in one of the alleyways. I turned, thinking it might be someone in
need. As I drew near, I saw her face. Snow-white, as if bloodless,
her long black hair blowing in the wind. Her eyes glowed deep red.
I knew who she was: they call her the snake-woman, the spider-woman,
the woman who is not really a woman at all, who was once more
beautiful than any of us. Kay and Gerda did not teach me much about
her, because they say that even to study the darkness is dangerous,
and should be left only to a chosen few. But I do know that they
call that person Amelia.
She approached
me, smiling strangely, and whether it was fear, or some sort of spell
she was casting upon me, I stood frozen to the spot, clutching my
baby to my breast. Etta stirred in my arms and began to cry. Heaven
help me, I was so afraid. Still Amelia came closer; still I could
not move. She bared her teeth at me, contorting her face into a
terrible, ugly shape, and growled at me like an animal. I know that
she must hate me, and hate what I am doing.
I don't know what would have
happened had I not remembered the Cry to the Goldenwings. I uttered
the words, and it seemed only moments before he came blazing through
the sky – a beautiful, golden creature with fiery wings. For an
instant, the night seemed as bright as day. He came suited in armor,
and bearing a glittering sword which he brandished at the woman. She
glowered at him, then looked back to me, and finally turned and slunk
away sullenly. The goldenwing drew closer to me and wrapped his
wings around us, supporting me with his arm. And thank goodness for
that, because I could barely walk for trembling. He escorted me to
the eastern entrance, whereupon he disappeared with a flash. Marion
was waiting to let me in. He still doesn't fully understand what is
happening, but he says that he will trust and obey his queen.
Soleil's head
swam.
“A-Amelia?”
Percy stammered. “I heard you say that name, Mortimer. Who is
she?”
“She is the
enemy,” Mortimer said lowly, his face grave. “She was doing her
utmost to prevent the three of you from coming here.” Soleil felt
the prickle of gooseflesh creep down her neck, recalling how the
snake's eyes had glowed red. “She has no difficulty keeping a firm
reign on Slumberers, ones who have fallen asleep to the Magic,”
Mortimer continued. “But she becomes frightened when people start
waking up. She feels threatened by living, fighting, fully-conscious
things. And that's exactly what you'll be doing here. Coming fully
awake, fully alive.” He smiled as he crossed his arms upon the
tabletop.
“But I don't
understand,” Percy said. “What is the 'Magic'? Where
does it come from?”
“First, continue
with this,” Genevieve encouraged. “We don't have time for you to
read all of it right now, but it would be best for you to skip to the
very end,” she said softly, her pink-padded fingertips brushing the
pages. Soleil slowly turned to where her hand had indicated.
January 11th,
1763
It has finally happened. Amelia
approached me tonight, and refused to leave me alone. Over the
years, she has tempted me, and found me resistant. She has tried to
intimidate me with her ugliness, and she has succeeded many times.
But now I am almost thirty-nine years old, and she has shown me every ugly face she can muster (ugliness,
unlike beauty, has an end, and can be exhausted), and I am not afraid
of her anymore. She taunted me today, filling my ears with lies
about my loves, saying that Thomas is domineering and that he does
not love me; that Soleil is stunted and backwards; that Musetta is
silly and shallow; that Percy is weak and effeminate. I denied each
lie bluntly.
And then she found my weak spot.
She must have been planning it for a very long time.
She threatened to cast a curse upon
my loves: a fatal blow – a sickness ending in death. I panicked,
and ran home, ran to our rooms. She followed me all the way. But
then I thought: perhaps, perhaps, I may be able to internalize the
sickness before it reached my darlings, so that it would not ever
even touch them. One thing that I feel Amelia will never be able to
understand is the act of making one's self vulnerable. But I am a
healer. For me, at least, this is what healing means.
I am unsure whether Amelia was
aware of the peculiarity of my body when she attacked me; if she knew
what I was going to do. Perhaps she simply wanted me gone from the
beginning. Even if so, the fact remains that I have loved. I have
won the only fight that has ever interested me.
The malady she has cast is a fever.
I give myself three days at the most; for maintaining consciousness,
perhaps less. It will be enough time to say goodbye to my husband
and children. May the Great Enchanter grant us all peace.
Tears streamed
down Soleil's face. Her fists were angry balls perched tensely upon
her thighs. Fire was raging inside of her chest.
“I can't believe
it,” Percy choked. “I can't believe it.”
“My friends,”
Genevieve said softly, “know that your mother was one of the finest
heroines this world has ever known. And know that she was not
afraid, but peaceful, at the end. All she wanted was to love and to
heal, and she was given the opportunity to do both, to the fullest.”
“She spent
nearly twenty years ministering to the needy of Roseland,” Mortimer
interjected. “And, in that time, she healed not only people's
bodies, but helped renew their minds and hearts. She planted the
seeds. She placed the sparks in the kindling. Now all that's needed
is a bellows to fan the flames. And you, her children, could be the
ones. You could set the world on fire.”
“There's your
army, Etta,” Percy hiccuped. Musetta gave a trembling smile,
smearing tears away from under her eyes.
“You know, it's
odd,” Genevieve said. “Viviana went to so much trouble to hide
her identity from people outside the castle walls, and yet everyone
seemed to remember her by one very distinctive characteristic. They
called her the 'Ginger Fairy.' It seems that, for all her poppy-seed
spells, she was never able to erase the impression of her hair from
people's minds.”
“Too red,”
Mortimer murmured, smiling at Soleil. She laughed helplessly.
Copyright © 2012
by Olivia Meldrum
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