21. Chapter 21
21
BEATRICE
My lecture about accepting reality hadn’t so much as dented Win’s iron-clad opinions, but for the next few days (weeks? months? I had trouble keeping track of time) we girls were so busy feeding, cleaning, exercising, and teaching the griflets that she couldn’t possibly have found opportunity to plot my demise or imagine new unhappy endings.
The griflets grew so quickly that our schedule was never the same for two days straight. When they outgrew their nesting boxes and became a hazard to the priceless musical instruments, we moved their things into a large meeting hall downstairs. Actually, the staff did all the heavy work, and we’d followed gratefully with our scampering, wrestling, quarreling griflets.
We spent most of our time in the gardens and grounds, which were extensive—larger than those at Faraway Castle and even more magical, which I wouldn’t have believed possible. Less than two weeks after hatching, the griflets were fully feathered, talking in sentences, and catching their own small prey. Both were growing into handsome griffins. The top of Chicky’s head nearly reached my shoulder, and Dodger wasn’t far behind her in size. He was the better hunter, which annoyed his sister, but she could fly farther . . . which at that point wasn’t saying much.
Winifred still tried to boss both the griflets and me. Dodger did his best to please her but never quite succeeded. Chicky totally ignored her. I listened politely to whatever she said, then did what I thought best.
Dodger was sweet-natured and compliant from the start—a great blessing, since Chicky surpassed even Win at pure bossiness. Both griflets now talked into my head, so to speak, but I could communicate mentally only to Chicky. And whenever I spoke to Dodger aloud, Win freaked out and the two griflets quarreled.
I really wished I understood what was going on with those three!
One bright morning, Win and I watched our griflets dunk for fish just offshore in a small lake, and afterward the four of us relaxed on some flat rocks at the shoreline to soak up sunshine. My head knew it must still be winter here in the mountains, but the weather felt more like spring.
Chicky primly preened her glossy feathers while Dodger sprawled out, spreading his wings and legs to catch more heat. His barred shades-of-silver feathers made me think of a falcon, and his fur was also silvery. Chicky’s feathers shimmered a pale gold that shaded into the tawny fur of her legs and body. They were both incredibly handsome creatures, though I might have been slightly biased toward my golden girl.
Lying flat on my back with my hands behind my head, I noticed a winged horse flying in a large circle high above, rather like a sentry. Another one circled in the distance. Did they do that every day and I hadn’t noticed? Sitting upright, I saw a herd of unicorns on a distant hillside. They were known as shy, peaceful, elusive creatures, but this group seemed aggressive, sparring with their flashing horns.
“Do you see those unicorns?” I asked Winifred, keeping my voice low.
“Of course.” Her tone was grim. “They’re practicing military drills. All the sentient creatures here are preparing for war.”
“War?” I nearly choked on the word.
“Of course. Don’t worry, we won’t be fighting here.”
I nearly asked if she knew what was currently happening at Faraway Castle, but a second thought shut down that impulse. She was a young girl with very little magic. If the Gamekeeper didn’t know, how could Winifred?
That afternoon, while the griflets dined on fresh game in their quarters, then collapsed into a near stupor, I slipped upstairs to bathe my grubby self before dinner. While soaking in the tub, I determined to privately tell the Gamekeeper about the unicorns we’d seen and Win’s talk of war. He probably already knew, but in all the craziness since we arrived at the palace, I’d sometimes forgotten to wonder about what might be happening at Faraway Castle. Was Auntie Bella safe? Were my friends all right?
It felt incredibly good to be clean again. Back in my room, I found a pair of skinny jeans, a downy white cowl-neck pullover, and cute boots laid out for me. Everything fitted me perfectly, of course, and I thanked my maids even though I didn’t sense their presence. A simple French braid tamed my damp hair, and a touch of makeup boosted my confidence before I headed down to the dining room.
Win was consuming some kind of messy sandwich when I arrived. “What took you so long?” she mumbled with a full mouth.
“I took a bath.”
She shrugged. “The griflets won’t sleep much longer.”
“I know.” They took brief naps all through the day but still slept hard at night.
When an invisible servant seated me, I said, “Thank you. I can hardly wait for the chef’s specialty of the day.”
“You are so weird,” Win observed.
“Since when are good manners weird?”
“Who in their right mind talks to ghosts?”
“I do.” I gave her a cheery smile just to see her roll her eyes. “Wow, I’m hungry! It’s a good thing we do so much hiking around, what with all the gourmet meals and divine pastries we snarf down like hungry griflets.”
She couldn’t argue. Both of us enjoyed every bite of every meal.
But the girl had some kind of addiction to negativity. “I’m out of here if that Beast shows. He’s just fattening us up, you know. Soon as he eats you, I’m gone.”
“Too bad. I would have enjoyed haunting you.” I nearly drooled when a selection of tiny savory pies appeared before me. “I’ll give him your regards.”
She snorted and kept eating. Aside from her sour expression, Winifred’s appearance had vastly improved since we arrived at the Forbidden Palace. She had healthy color in her face, and I was pretty sure she’d bathed twice this week. Quality clothing made a difference too. She no longer appeared ready to disappear into the ether.
By the time my dessert arrived, I realized wearing skinny jeans hadn’t been such a good idea. “Want some cheesecake? I’m sure there’s more.”
Her mouth full, she scowled, pointing at her large slice of chocolate cake.
Before I could respond, I sensed the Gamekeeper’s presence. The chair at the head of the table, to my left, slid out, and something heavy compressed its wide embroidered seat.
“Good evening,” he said.
Happiness seemed to fill my chest. “Good evening.”
“What’s so good about it?” Win inquired around a mouthful of chocolate.
“I was speaking to the Gamekeeper, who just joined us.” I indicated his chair.
“You think I didn’t notice when you moved that chair with your foot?”
I could only sigh. She reveled in rudeness. By pretending he wasn’t here, she could finish eating her cake.
“I hope you’re enjoying your meal.” Did I hear an edge of humor in the Gamekeeper’s voice?
“I haven’t had a subpar meal since we arrived.” I spoke no more than the truth. “Everything is delicious. Would you like a slice of cheesecake?”
“You already asked me that. Disgusting, squishy curd stuff.” Win contorted her face.
“Thank you,” he replied, “but I cannot truly appreciate sweets anymore.”
I shrugged lightly. “Then I suppose I must enjoy it for you.”
“Martyr that you are,” he responded, and I knew he was smiling.
“You are so weird,” Win observed.
I laughed, choked on crumbs, and covered my face with both hands, coughing until my airway cleared. He handed me a clean serviette, which I used to dry my eyes. Finally able to speak again, I blurted, “You’re lucky I didn’t spew that bite at you,” in his direction.
“I’m lucky? You’re lucky to not get murdalized,” Win retorted.
I opened my mouth to point out her rudeness, but he spoke first. “We need to discuss plans for tomorrow.”
“Oh, that works. I can pass them on to her since she refuses to hear you.”
“Pass what on to who? Stop talking to yourself.” Win lobbed a cold, limp chip at me, but I caught it before it could stain my clothing. Either she really couldn’t hear him, or she was a good actress. But I was sure that she knew he was present.
“The griflets must begin to hunt larger prey,” he said. “A young bachelor griffin has agreed to train them in hunting and self-defense, starting tomorrow.”
I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about my baby learning to hunt larger game . . . let alone to fight. “May I go along?”
Win snapped, “Even if I was going somewhere, I wouldn’t invite you.”
I focused on her scowling face. “The Gamekeeper, who is sitting here beside us, made plans with an adult griffin to teach our griflets how to hunt larger game.”
“Nice try. There aren’t any griffins around here. They’ve all been captured.”
“We not captured!” Chicky’s screech nearly startled me out of my seat.
Dodger added, “We here!”
I turned in time to see the griflets plugging the doorway, tangling their legs and wings while wrestling to be first. They somehow popped through at the same time and went skidding across the glossy floor, leaving gouges in its polish.
“Stop!” Win shouted to no effect.
Bright-eyed after their meal and nap, they raced each other to the far end of the table and around, tails whipping. The wind from Dodger’s passing caused a fern to nearly spin in its pot, and I feared for my favorite statue. Chicky slid and crashed into the far wall, then scrabbled in pursuit of her brother.
“Enough.”
One resounding word from the Gamekeeper and the griflets slid to a stop near his chair, sitting straight upright like panting gargoyles, their attention focused on him. “We good now,” Chicky said, and Dodger nodded eagerly.
Win raised her voice. “That’s better. Since I know all about griffins, I will train Chicky and Dodger for a few weeks, and then they’ll be able to survive on their own.”
Dodger gave a frustrated squawk. “I hunt good! I catch two rabbits.”
“I hunt best.” Chicky looked down her beak at him. “I catched a hare and a marmot. No need for train.”
I shook my head. “Both of you should be humble about your successes. There is always more to learn.”
“Blah, blah, blah,” Win mocked my tone of voice. “You’re the preachiest know-it-all I’ve ever seen.”
That hit a nerve. “I’m pointing out facts of life, that’s all.”
Win shoved her chair back, leaped to her feet, planted her hands flat on the table, and glared down at me. “You think you’re better than anyone, and you make people feel stupid. No wonder you’re short on friends. You stink!!”
With a piercing shriek, Chicky gave her entire body a shake, making her feathers and fur stand on end. An instant later she loomed over Winifred, who gaped up into her blazing eyes. “Beatrice loves Chicky. Chicky loves Beatrice. Gamekeeper says Beatrice is wise.”
With awkward yet effective dignity, Chicky turned and marched around the Gamekeeper’s chair to stand beside mine, then rested her intimidating beak on my shoulder. In a rush of affection, I slid my arm around her neck.
Not to be outdone, Dodger followed her to bunt my other shoulder with the top of his head. “Beatrice is kind and good.”
I stroked his feathered neck too, but a glance at Win made me cringe inside. I was certain Dodger intended no slight to his erstwhile nanny; a gentle soul, he tried to make everyone happy . . . but he was always a few steps behind in social awareness. Now, Chicky? I had no proof, but I suspected she took pleasure in thwarting Winifred.
“You’ve been lying to them!” Win shoved away from the table and leaped to her feet, pointing. “Vlad and Mirka chose me as their nanny. You!”—her voice cracked as she pointed at my face—“You have no authority here—not over me, and not over them.”
She rounded the Gamekeeper’s chair and ordered the griflets, “Go to your nests, both of you.”
Dodger looked to me, his round golden eyes so expressive that my heart melted. I turned to the Gamekeeper for guidance, but he was silent. Since I didn’t know what else to do, I hugged Dodger’s feathery neck. “You’re such a good, kind boy. I’m very proud of you. Now, it’s nearly bedtime; you’d better obey Win. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He visibly drooped, so I gave him a kiss on his head and another hug, whispering, “She needs you, Dodger.”
I felt his posture straighten as he answered mentally, Dodger take care of Win for you. He then strutted to the door, proud and cheerful again.
When I turned back, Win and Chicky were having a stare down . . . or more like a glare down.
My griflet’s gaze suddenly shifted to meet mine. Win always says I am bonded to her, but Chicky loves Beatrice. Chicky obeys Beatrice, not Win. I stay, please?
Again, I felt the bond between us, strange and magical but also warm and strong. Chicky feared that she didn’t really matter to me, that I would hand her off to Win.
Not a chance.
You are bonded to me, my darling Chicky.
I turned to the scowling girl. “Chicky will stay with me tonight.”
“She’s coming with me!” Eyes narrowed, Win took two steps toward me, one fist raised as if she were coiled to strike me . . . or to cast a spell.
Before I could open my mouth, Chicky let out a roar and bounded toward the girl.
Everything suddenly stopped—all movement, all sound. Win’s eyes were wild with rage and terror, and Chicky’s sharp talons were outspread—quite intimidating when combined with her open beak and blazing eyes—but she and Win were both frozen in place. It wasn’t a spell: I could move freely, and my heart and breathing were still accelerated. I heaved a relieved sigh.
“That escalated quickly,” the Gamekeeper observed. For the first time this evening, I could see him, if only faintly. Were those silver streaks in his hair? I thought it must be the lighting.
“I’m so thankful you’re here!” My words sounded breathy with relief.
“Peace, Chicky,” the Gamekeeper said. “No one but you can break your bond with Beatrice. Reacting with fear will only cause trouble.”
The griflet dropped to all fours, clacked her sharp beak, and folded her wings. “No one?” she asked, eyes brightening.
“Only you.” He was silent for a few moments, and Chicky nodded, looking happier by the moment. I knew they were conversing silently, but I didn’t mind.
“We will discuss this further tomorrow,” the Gamekeeper promised, then turned to regard Win. “Return to your chambers, Winifred, and remember only that the griflets will receive outside training tomorrow.” I felt his magic, gentle and comforting. “Oh, and don’t forget your dessert.”
The girl snatched a bulky paper sack—presumably containing the rest of her cake—from the table and left the room with a smile of anticipation that, for a moment, made her look pretty.
Chicky spread her wings again and shook herself from head to tufted tail. “Now, ask question!” she squawked.
I sensed something like embarrassment, or even mortification, from the Gamekeeper before he said, “I do not require a reminder, Chicky.”
The griflet tucked her head and crouched slightly, like a repentant puppy. “I sorry!”
“What question?” I inquired and then realized. “Oh!”
“I love you dearly, sweet Beatrice.” His voice was low and gentle. It held no magic, yet a thrill ran through me as he asked, “Will you marry me?”
I knew my face must be scarlet. It wasn’t as if Chicky were a human who would judge me, but I couldn’t help wondering if every servant in the palace knew that the Gamekeeper kept proposing marriage. The thought irked me.
“Please, please stop asking me, Gamekeeper! I could never marry someone who isn’t human. How can you even think I would? You’re my best friend ever. Can’t you be content with that? Can’t you care enough to stop asking when I’ve already given you my answer? No! ”
The silence following my tirade seemed to roar in my ears. I’d sounded cruel and unfeeling, and . . . my heart felt as if it were imploding.
There was no fixing this.
Shaking my head, I ran from the room, through the hall, and up the stairs so quickly that the lamps had trouble keeping up. I heard feathers rustle behind me, and claws scrabbled on the hard floors. My pace slowed as we approached the door to my suite, and Chicky lovingly rubbed her head on my arm. “Chicky happy. Beeetrice be happy.”
I didn’t bother to correct her, but “happy” was the exact opposite of my mood.
But when she curled up on the hearthrug while I prepared for bed, her presence was soothing. And distracting. I could talk to her instead of brooding about the pain I sensed from the Gamekeeper. Part of me wanted to sneak out, find him, and apologize. But I couldn’t even hug him without awkwardness. Nothing I could say or do would soothe his heartache.
“Happy dreams, my Beeetrice,” my griflet said, sounding smug.
“You’re so sweet.” I glanced toward the low-burning fire to see her lying on her back, wings outspread, talons and paws curled, and her head and shoulders twisted to one side. I’d seen dogs and cats sleep that way, but somehow the sight of a griffin in such a pose struck my funny bone. I didn’t dare laugh at her. I couldn’t even think too loud, or she might have picked up my amusement.
But as soon as my head touched the pillow, my thoughts flipped directly back to the Gamekeeper. Oh! My heart ached more every time I was forced to refuse his proposals. Why did he keep asking? It wasn’t as if he were rude or too stubborn to listen. Even when he’d corrected me that evening, he was so kind that I’d felt loved.
It was no good. I sat bolt upright in the bed, feeling smothered by my own wayward thoughts. I shoved aside the bed curtains. Chicky had rolled over, but she still looked blissful on that thick rug. Oh, why not?
Moments later, I snuggled against her side, using a wing for a blanket. I’d thought she was asleep, but she softly purred. Such a soothing sound . . .
Ugh! The fire was too bright. I struggled up to my elbows, blinking. But as soon as my eyes focused, I sat bolt upright and nearly fell off a strange little settee. The pair of long legs stretched before me, with silk stockings rolled down to just above the knees, were my legs, and those were my feet in leather shoes with buckled straps.
I had to be dreaming again. But instead of a ballroom I’d dreamed up a library.
Arabella
“Look,” I began, “I can’t tell you everything I know, because . . . well, some of it hasn’t happened yet.”
“What do you mean?” Rosa asked.
“It’s not as easy to explain as you might think. I don’t dare tell you everything I know, because it could affect both the history and the future of our world. Pukai, the Gamekeeper, and I are the only living people who know about a certain approaching crisis, and we thought everything else was, well, manageable until the Mirror came along and messed up our timeline.”
“Then what can you tell us?” Prince Omar seemed more intrigued than worried.
I considered that question carefully. “Must we keep standing here to discuss the matter? I really need to sit down, and I will most likely need to stop and consider possible ramifications before I relate any detail. This could take some time.”
They all agreed, and soon we sat in a circle of chairs. No doubt out of respect for my age, I was given what was quite possibly the only padded armchair in the underground bastion. I looked from face to face, each one beautiful, earnest, and so very young.
“My family line in ancient times included mages and enchanters of all varieties . . . even some fairy blood from the days when humans intermarried with the fay. You must understand that not all fay creatures are evil or bent on invading and conquering our reality.”
“True enough,” Briar said, nodding. “They are much like us in good ways as well as evil.”
I nodded, pleased with his answer.
“More than a thousand years ago, kings all over this continent agreed that royal families should not maintain their positions through the use of magic. Obviously, in light of history, that pact was broken many times over. However, Adelboden was one country whose government remained magic-free. Around four centuries ago, the fay strain in my noble family appeared to have vanished, and some bureaucrats in Adelboden decided it would be safe for their crown prince, Niklaus I, to marry my great-grandmother’s sister. Now, I believe there must also have been secret magic somewhere else in the royal family’s line, because my third cousin—now known to history as Siegfried III, the last King of Adelboden—became one of the most powerful enchanters in the history of this world. Our mothers were quite good friends, so Othniel (the given name he answered to) and I grew up more like siblings—he was the annoying ‘baby brother’ I had to babysit. Our families hoped we would someday marry, but that was never going to happen.”
“How is all this pertinent to our problem?” Rosa interrupted.
Gardeners are annoyingly resistant to withering stares, so after a fraught pause I shifted my gaze to Princess Ellie, who has always respected me, and resumed my tale. “Niel, as we all called him, was well into his twenties when he took Queen Pukai and me into his confidence, requesting magical help.”
“Why?” Prince Briar asked. “I mean, why you two?”
“Because we were the two most powerful enchanters he trusted,” I said with a shrug. “Only Pukai and I knew of Niel’s magic—he was strong and smart enough to keep it hidden from everyone else. Back then, Pukai was the Crown Princess of her current realm, and I had already been a practicing fairy godmother for a good while.”
Briar nodded, and Ellie pleaded, “Go on,” her eyes bright with interest. She and her husband were holding hands, which I thought rather sweet.
“For any of this to make sense,” I said, “you need to know a few facts from the distant past. At Othniel’s christening, an unknown mage appeared and interrupted the ceremony with a proclamation that the Crown Prince’s future bride would be his Fated Mate, and that she would help him save his country and the world from a great evil. That story was subsequently banned by the King’s decree, so, of course, everyone knew about it back then. Few took the prophecy seriously since the seer was from some country on the other side of the world, and few people now living would even remember hearing rumors of it.”
I saw Rosa and Ellie exchange puzzled glances, but they didn’t interrupt.
“Before explaining how we might help him, Niel revealed to us that he had been visited twice by a girl from the future. The first visit happened when he was ten years old and she was seven. The child entered the palace gardens through a magical gateway, but she seemed to believe she was still in the garden of a resort. The children talked and played together, and Niel discovered with delight that she could communicate with cinder sprites. He even introduced her to Nelumbo, the monster that now inhabits Faraway Lake.”
Ellie exclaimed, “Oh, wow!”
“How long did she stay?” Rosa inquired.
“All morning, so it must have been several hours. After she went back through the gateway, promising to return soon, he tried to find her again, with no luck. Her second appearance happened one year after his father, Siegfried II, passed away. In fact, she appeared at Niel’s coronation ball.”
I quickly related their romantic meeting in the palace’s Great Hall. “He chose his mystery girl for the first dance, then slipped out of the ballroom with her, which everyone assumed would put my nose out of joint. The pity annoyed me, I’ll admit. Anyway, they soon recognized each other from their childhood meeting.”
My audience appeared spellbound with interest, even Briar. “I would never believe such a tale from anyone else,” he admitted.
I shrugged. “Frankly, neither would I. Anyway, I rather enjoyed watching Niel get a tongue-lashing from the Queen Mother afterward. He admitted nothing to her but confessed to me that the mystery girl vanished when he tried to kiss her. He made up some story about the mysterious girl running off, but he secretly grilled the two maids who’d helped her dress for the ball, and their stories convinced him that she was his Fated Mate. He was so convinced that he asked Pukai and me to meet with him and help him figure out a way to freeze his aging process until he could find and marry her in the future.”
That revelation seemed to suck all the air from the room. “The King of Adelboden asked you to help him freeze his age,” Prince Briar repeated.
“Yes, he did.”
“What did you say?” Prince Omar inquired.
“We thought it would be a fun challenge. Keep in mind, we were young and stupid, Niel was most persuasive, and it wasn’t illegal back then. After all, that prophecy seemed to give us permission to try something crazy and make it all come true.”
“And you succeeded?” Rosa asked.
“Not even close. We studied hard and made some attempts but always came up empty. Then Pukai inherited her ocean empire—which added just a tad more stress to her already turbulent life. She and I had never been as serious about Niel’s crusade as he was, but we kept trying for his sake and discovered some magical possibilities. Time passed, and in between all his royal duties, he kept studying and experimenting. He worked hard at being a good and fair king, but around us he was grouchy and worried. When he kept refusing all the potential brides his mother suggested, she got testy too, which exacerbated his moodiness. I was busy living my own life, so I didn’t see much of Niel. Pukai married and started a family, but she went through some really rough times too.
“Then the mystery girl appeared to him again, and their connection seemed even stronger . . .”