14. Ofelia
14
Ofelia
N ights at Le Chateau were so strange. I’d get flashes of nightmares. Eerie shadows painting the moonlit walls. A tapping on my window, only to find it to be the branch of a small tree.
No matter how frustrated she made me, I slept better when Lope was beside me. She’d keep her back to me, modestly. Her black-and-silver plait coiled against the pillow. Sometimes her breaths would quicken, and I’d wonder, What monsters does she fight, even in her dreams? During one such nightmare, I laid my hand against her arm, covered in a star-bright chemise, and her body loosened.
She was always like that. Always ready to fight.
If I found someplace beautiful, someplace peaceful to call home—would she be content with that, like I was? Or would I be asking a wolf to blunt its teeth and act like a housepet?
In the morning, her place in the bed was empty, except for a small note in her writing, beautiful and scrawled, The gardens.
Perhaps if I proved to her that safety, that peace was something attainable here, that she could rest ... perhaps she would be willing to stay with me. To call me hers.
I couldn’t quite picture it, Lope accompanying me to a courtly dinner or gambling with me or enthusiastically attending a ball. Even when in her loveliest dress or court suit. The smile I gave her in my daydreams didn’t fit.
My ladies-in-waiting soon appeared to dress me for the morning in linens and pale colors. They said I would be out in the garden today, where His Majesty had a surprise for me. After all of Lope’s suspicions last night, and the mere idea that he’d forge a letter from Mother—I didn’t know how to feel.
Outside, the king guided me down lanes of hedgerows, past groves of tall trees, beautiful rose gardens, statues, and ponds. The sun glowed warm against my face.
“I knew you would love these gardens like I do,” said the king, squeezing my arm. “I am kept inside all day with dozens of meetings and tasks, but I cannot go a day without a walk outdoors.”
We passed the bosquet dedicated to the god of life, and it was like a cloud of orange blossom perfume had floated by. I smiled dreamily.
“I used to spend hours in our library reading about Le Chateau,” I said. “I would wish upon stars and eyelashes and dandelions that I would someday walk these allées.”
The king chuckled and pressed a light kiss to the top of my hair. “And you, my love, are my dream come true.”
As we strolled past the bosquets to the gods, I remembered Lope’s charge to me, to seek out more information about the king and about this palace. I squeezed his arm and pointed to the bosquet that was fenced off—the one with nothing but a marble rotunda and a door within. “What is that area for, Father?”
Though I tried to stop, he continued our walk, batting a hand in the direction of the bosquet. “Just a place I go to gather my thoughts now and again. It’s being redecorated. Someday it’ll be pretty enough for you to visit.”
We walked deeper into the labyrinth. In the back of my mind, I thought of Lope’s observation. That birds did not sing in these gardens. I strained to hear birdsong. Instead, I heard music. Flutes, violins, a harpsichord, tambourines, coming somewhere from this garden.
“An orchestra in the garden,” I murmured. “It’s like something out of a fairy tale!”
“It’s more than an orchestra, in fact.”
We turned one more corner, and before us, a great group of courtiers was gathered in an area I hadn’t yet seen—an oblong room, like a concert hall. And like some kind of theater, seats wrapped all around the space. The seats, however, were covered in plants, emerald green, like cushions of leaves instead of velvet.
Farther back, behind the nobles, was a vast wall of waterfalls, cascading over golden sculptures and real seashells. At the very top of this display, a man holding a staff conducted a group of musicians, each clad in gold as if to blend in to the display.
“Welcome to the ballroom,” said the king with a proud grin.
My eyes went wide. “You mean we can dance? Out here?”
He gestured to a red-and-white marble floor laid in the gravel before us. “As much as you like. There is also a feast for you to sample and a great many young people who would like very much to know you better.” He squeezed my hand with a bright smile. “You’re the most sought-after girl in this court. Two young men have already asked me for your hand.”
A wound in my heart pulsed. I could see a hand in mine, a hand that bore a ring and a promise and a future together. The white scars along her arm. The ink stains on her forefinger.
“I—I am not considering marriage just now,” I admitted softly. That role of a lifelong companion was quite occupied, and I hoped it would only bloom and grow.
“Don’t give it another thought.” He nudged my chin, tipping my head so I’d look him in the eyes. His eyes, just like mine, crinkled up into a smile. “Enjoy yourself. This is all for you.”
I curtsied in thanks. He patted my arm once more and turned to stroll past courtiers standing by little tables, each of them bowing as he passed.
Something Lope had said filtered back through. Six shadows, moving like they were alive.
My eyes flickered to the gravel below his feet.
Six silhouettes, each in a different direction like points on a compass.
If it was a blessing, it was never remarked upon. Courtiers always kept their gazes lowered respectfully, but I doubted they were counting the shadows at the feet of their king or wondering what they could mean.
Was it a warning? Or simply a strange trick of the light?
A new song began. Lords and ladies and dukes and duchesses alike gathered on the marble, standing in a line. When I joined them, they clapped delightedly.
At once, a girl with long golden hair bounded to my side, dropping into a deep curtsy. “Your Highness,” she said—though I had yet to be crowned—“could I have the pleasure of being your dance partner?”
“I suppose so,” I said, “but my mother did not teach me many dances, Senorita...?”
“Mademoiselle Madeleine des Hirondelles, Your Highness.”
The title felt so strange and ill fitting for me. I laughed awkwardly. “Can I call you Madeleine, and you call me Ofelia?”
She dipped into her deep curtsy again. “As you wish. And as for dancing, Your—Ofelia—you have a great teacher in me. Just pretend to be my mirror.”
Madeleine swept up my hands and pulled me into position. All the dancers had paired themselves into two lines, so Madeleine placed herself across from me.
The first song began, lively and bright. Madeleine swept her right arm through the air, so I did the same, a bit delayed compared to the other dancers in my row. She leapt, I leapt. She twirled, I twirled. She swept me nearer, until we were only a foot apart.
“You’re an excellent pupil,” she said to me.
I laughed and hurried to step back with the rest of the dancers. “Just wait until I’ve stumbled and knocked you over like a ninepin.”
As I twirled in place, I could hear her chuckle. “It’s an honor to be your ninepin, then!”
We reunited in the middle of the dance floor.
“This part’s a little difficult,” she hastily said. “Put your left hand behind your back—good.” Madeleine slipped her right arm behind my back so she could hold my hand. She instructed me to do the same to her—with my other hand, I held the hand behind her back.
“We’re like a knot,” I remarked.
“Exactly. Now, we turn.”
With our tangled arms, just like all the other dancers, we spun in a slow circle. When I turned my head, Madeleine’s eyes met mine, and my heartbeat quickened.
It was just a dance. But we were so close.
I closed my eyes for just a second. In my mind, the entire ballroom changed, cloaked in beautiful darkness with only spare candles glowing like starlight. And Lope was here, dancing with me, smiling down at me, dressed in a beautiful silver suit.
I didn’t think you liked to dance , I would say.
She’d reply, You never asked.
“Ofelia?”
Madeleine’s voice shocked me back into awareness.
Gods. I was standing in the middle of the dance floor, unmoving, while the other dancers carried on.
“I—excuse me—” I pulled away from her, running off the dance floor and onto the gravel, my face burning.
Footsteps pattered against the gravel. Madeleine. She touched my arm with a kind smile. “It’s all right,” she said. “Dancing is difficult for everyone the first time.” She shook her head at me, something understanding in her eyes. “They say you grew up in the countryside? That you didn’t even know the king was your father?”
“That’s right,” I murmured.
“You must feel rather lost.”
I laughed bitterly. “I feel as though I’m drowning.”
Her hand slid down my arm until her fingers wove with mine. My body shivered involuntarily.
“Come with me,” she said. “Some food and conversation will lift your spirits.”
She pulled me over to a small table covered in marzipan pastries. I nibbled on a pastry while she asked a passing servant for sparkling wine.
Madeleine rested her head upon her folded hands like I’d seen Lope do when she played chess. “So, Ofelia, as a resident of Le Chateau, you must first learn how to be a good gossip,” said Madeleine, a mischievous smile on her face. “Do you have any stories for me?”
My heart thrilled. This was the information I longed for; the sort of information Lope had asked me to uncover. And there was one question in particular that hadn’t left me. What had happened to the missing woman? The marvelous singer who vanished?
“I—I heard something about a woman disappearing?” I asked faintly. “A singer, I think?”
A wide grin crossed her face. “Francoise, you mean?”
I nodded—though I couldn’t fathom why a girl’s disappearance would make her smile .
Madeleine scooted even closer to me, speaking in a low voice. “I know all the details,” she said, her red lips parting in an eager grin. “You see, I am a dancer in the royal theater troupe, and we theater people, we all know one another’s gossip. The palace has tried to keep this quiet, but I know the truth.”
I leaned in, my eyes wide. “So who was this girl? What happened to her? Is she all right?”
Madeleine let out a loud laugh. “Oh, she’s more than all right.” She bit her lip as if trying to suppress a grin. “It’s all a very sordid story, so you must promise not to say a word, all right?”
I mimed locking my lips with a key. She giggled and grabbed my arm.
“Francoise was a wonderful soprano,” said Madeleine. “Not the best, we all knew. She had some issues with breath control and her vibrato wasn’t very consistent. Anyhow. The important thing is that she was the king’s favorite singer! He came to the opera every single night. Backstage we’d find flowers waiting, just for her, and we knew who they were from.”
My brow furrowed. “My father... fancied her?”
“He’s the king, you understand,” she said, waving a hand, as if this explained things. But it sent cold seeping through my veins. Did he love so easily? How had he not mentioned Francoise? And... did his abiding love for my mother mean nothing at all?
While I stewed, Madeleine continued. “You could hear him in the halls humming arias. He was so happy; nobody had seen him like that in so long. The nature of their relationship was effectively an open secret among the company,” she said. She jabbed her finger at the table, her eyes widening. “But then, about a month ago, she just disappeared! We all found it very odd, but...”
Our glasses of sparkling wine were brought to us, and Madeleine briefly went quiet while they were set down. I took a tentative sip, my eyes locked upon her.
“We found a letter in her things,” Madeleine whispered excitedly once the servants had walked away. “She’d been offered a starring role at an opera house in a country far north. But she hadn’t told any of us. We don’t think she even told the king.” The blond girl raised her eyebrows. “I suspect they must have paid her handsomely if she was willing to set aside this palace and the king himself just for a leading role!”
My shoulders relaxed. “So... she hasn’t disappeared?” I said softly. “She just... left the country?”
“Apparently so. She left without a trace. Her clothes were left behind, her possessions. I did some snooping with a group of singers and dancers when we found the letter inviting her away.”
Another dark mystery put to bed. This young woman had not been snatched away by monsters or hidden away. Surely that meant that my mother was safe and sound, too, at Lantanas.
I patted Madeleine’s hand. “I’m glad you told me this,” I said softly.
Across this outdoor ballroom, I looked upon the king, sitting on his throne.
His gentle voice, his familiar eyes, the doting way he spoke of my mother. It was in Lope’s nature to be suspicious. But perhaps there was no threat. Perhaps happiness could be found in this place. I clung to it, wherever it could be found.
Gods. There she was again. In my thoughts, at every turn.
I said farewell to Madeleine and strode past the dancers in their silks and the courtiers with their sparkling wines to settle into the chair beside the king.
“Is the event not to your liking, Ofelia?” the king asked.
I shook my head and absently plucked some flowers from one of the overflowing vases sitting beside me. “It’s beautiful, everything. I’m just a dreadful dancer.” I grinned playfully at him. “I’ve never seen you dance, Your Majesty.”
He folded his hands in his lap, serenely watching the way the dancers moved in graceful unison. “I did, long ago,” he said. “I haven’t since my father passed.”
My stomach sank. “Oh—forgive me, sire, I didn’t know.”
The king reached his hand across the arm of his chair. I gave him my hand in turn.
“That is why you are such a gift to me,” he said, his thumb sweeping back and forth against the ruby ring on my finger. “You’re the only family I have left.”
My heart ached, like it was being torn in two. “How do you bear pain like that?”
He gestured to the party before him. “I surround myself with beauty. With happiness. Though I have seen darkness, the gods have blessed me mightily. I want for nothing.”
When he turned back to me, there was a glimmer in his dark eyes. “So then, my darling. What is it you want? My only desire is to make you happy. Anything you ask for will be yours.”
There was nothing. Or—it wasn’t a thing I wanted. I wanted a moment. I wanted Lope, holding me, poetry spilling from her lips. I wanted her to kiss me and pledge to stay by my side, even at this palace. I wanted her to be so happy she forgot all her woes.
I plucked at the petals of the daisy in my hand, discarding them one by one into my lap. She loves me a little. She loves me a lot. She loves me passionately. She loves me madly. She doesn’t love me at all. Again and again, until the final petal remained, the one declaring, Not at all , and I nearly growled in frustration. The king’s voice interrupted me.
“Ah,” he said knowingly. “There’s a young man responsible for all of this.”
I blinked and sat tall in my chair. “A young man?”
The king smiled. “I know lovesickness when I see it.”
Oh, gods. If it was that obvious to the world and Lope still hadn’t said anything... what did it all mean?
“There... there is a girl,” I said.
He hummed in thought, his eyes searching the crowd. “Is it someone here? That girl, Madeleine, expressed her fondness for you. And over there is a young woman named Angelique—”
“Not someone here.”
A servant passed close by, and I waved him over to gratefully take a glass of sparkling wine. I sipped on it and let the warmth and the bubbles rise in my cheeks.
“Whoever she is, I can certainly arrange a meeting if it would please you.”
“We are, um, rather well acquainted already.”
He raised a white eyebrow. “You don’t mean that servant you brought with you?”
I wished the Underworld would split the earth apart and drag me away from this. “Father, it’s... it’s not all that important.”
“It certainly is. How it vexes you!” He leaned closer, a friendly smile on his pale face. “I am not worried about her station. Hearts are mysterious things, are they not? Loving regardless of logic or reason.”
I had reason. I had plenty of reasons. When I grew sorrowful and she laid her head against mine. The way she listened so intently to any of my troubles, no matter how trivial. She never dismissed my feelings. Even if my anxieties about my mother or my future or my story ideas were far less fearsome than the Shadows she faced every night. Lope always treated me as the most important person on Earth.
“Does she love you in return?”
I responded with a long sigh. She respected me, yes. But I was the daughter of the countess she served. Perhaps that respect was mandatory.
The dancers now danced in pairs, spinning around one another in slow circles as they gazed into one another’s eyes.
“I once thought I knew,” I murmured. “But she has never bared her feelings to me, and I’m not sure if it’s because she’s shy or because I’m mistaken, or perhaps she’s waiting for me , or perhaps she wants to remain friends—”
“How long have you been fond of her?”
My cheeks burned. It was hard to describe. “We’ve known each other about five years. I’ve always loved her, but the way I felt about her, it... changed, recently. Like one day I was seeing her clearly when I never had before.”
“And she was the one who accompanied you all the way to Le Chateau?”
“Yes.” Yes—she must have loved me, at least then, risking so much on my behalf. With a twinge in my heart, I remembered holding her in the field just outside the palace, how pale she’d been, the shocking scarlet of the blood running down her face.
“If it’s been so long,” he said, “she has had a thousand opportunities to confess her love to you. Even if she was a coward, she could have written you a letter, could she not?”
I bristled. “She is no coward. She has nearly given her life for me.”
“That is her role, as a knight.”
How simple he made it sound. A king ruled. A painter painted. A knight fought to the death. But nothing was simple about Lope or my feelings for her. They were as tangled within me as the roots of a tree. An inseparable part of me.
The king gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “Perhaps it’s for the best,” he said. “Noble as your knight may be, it seems plain to me that she has no intention of offering you the affection that you so clearly deserve.”
My heart split into sharp fragments. I didn’t want to believe such a thing.
But his words... they echoed my own fears. They did not sound like lies.
Lies were wrapped in soft, beautiful cloaks. The truth was cold and harsh. And this one cut deeply.
The Lope I kept imagining in my head, she was just that, some character that I had created. The way I pictured her, courtly and swooning and reciting poetry to me in a rose-filled garden—that wasn’t her. Lope was the girl whose back was always turned to me, ready to fight another battle. The one who never called me by my name, no matter how many times I asked.
Something was slipping out of my grasp; something I couldn’t name.
A tear dripped down my cheek.
The king reached out, brushing it away with his thumb. I leaned into his hand. I wished it were Mother before me. I wished for her sensibility and for her embraces. But I was grateful, in this moment, not to be alone.
“Please remember, Ofelia,” he said. “There are many young ladies at this court who would be honored to be in your company. Ladies who would not be so slow to assure you of their affections.”
I wanted to let go. I wanted to drink until I was dizzy, to dance until my feet ached.
A ballroom in the middle of a monster-filled garden. Or simply a ballroom, music and beauty enjoyed unabashedly under the warm glow of the sun.
You cannot look away from trouble , Lope had said.
For one day, I turned from thoughts of her, and I danced.