Chapter 46
In the courtyard at Thorncrest Palace, Princess Languidere leaned into the merchant cart of the Red Jin as though she owned it.
Nan had seen the Jin several times, though usually without his clothing on as he paraded around the princess’ chambers with his raven black hair flowing freely, whilst Languidere’s parents were on excursions.
He now wore his hair in a knot, which only made his sharp features seem more mischievous.
“Tell me, what is the most precious thing you have stolen?” Languidere smiled and with one hand pulled all her flowing blonde hair over one shoulder. The Jin’s jaw dropped like a jester, his mouth so wide and long he looked like a pantomime illustration as he let out a lofty howl.
“The Red Jin does not steal! He acquires.” The man’s eyes twinkled as he leaned through his window, beckoning Languidere closer. “So, perhaps your heart is the most precious thing I’ve acquired.”
Languidere rolled her eyes. “I need something that will make me irresistible.”
Nan looked away as the princess began tracing her clavicle.
Languidere was erratic and overly reliant on her sensuality, and to Nan she appeared more desperate than usual.
But Nan herself was more on edge than usual, for dreams had begun to plague her as of late, and the past few evenings they’d come with a vivid clarity, and they all had to do with the woman Alice, whom she had never met.
The courtyard was packed with carriages.
Nan scanned the merchants she would never have the means to purchase from, when one familiar, but troubled, face caught her attention.
She waved as soon as she saw him. Bernard, dressed in the uniform of the queen’s men, smiled in return.
The princess was being invited to view the precious relics inside the curio cart as Bernard approached.
“Sister,” he said, with a gentle kiss upon her cheek.
“It is so rare to see you, Bernard. Are you unwell?” There was a fear in him that snuffed out the warm joy that usually poured from him.
“I am well enough. The queen, though, has arrived and wishes to clear the courtyard.”
“The queen is here now? Brother, I must speak with her. Can you arrange a visit?” Nan asked, trying to temper the urgency that came with a potential opportunity to speak with Rosemarie about the spark, and hopefully about her dreams. If she could tell her brother about them, he would arrange a meeting, surely.
“She is ill at present. This gathering will only disturb her.”
“How terrible, and the child?” Nan said, feeling guilt over the bold request as Bernard shook his head, unwilling to discuss the matter.
“Nan, do come in,” Languidere’s voice cooed from inside the cart. “There’s something we’d like to see.” Bernard shook his head again, subtle though it was.
“Brother, my dreams have returned,” she quickly whispered to him. “They are more real than when I was young, and they are of the girl Alice that the king seeks.” Nan glanced back to Languidere, who stood looking suspicious with her arms folded.
“How could you know it’s Alice?” Bernard asked, though he knew that Nan’s dreams had always brought with them a knowing—a knowing that could only have come from beyond herself. Nan looked at him imploringly.
Bernard nodded. “I will inform her.”
“Inform me of what?” Languidere said, parading from the cart’s steps. Bernard straightened his back.
“The queen has arrived and wishes that the courtyard be cleared.”
“Tell the queen that this is a relief effort for the travesty in the Port of Ev. The money our merchants lose every day could threaten our delicate country. The people of Ev need this.” The princess spoke as though she had practiced this line, and the glint in her eye meant she had saved it for the queen, but the delivery, the message, was even colder.
“You will tell her now, thank you,” she told Bernard, before turning to Nan. “I’d like to see you in something.”
Nan glanced to Bernard. “I will see about your meeting,” he said quietly with a nod before leaving the courtyard.
Nan, with a glimmer of hope, climbed into the Jin’s curio cart.
Vials of strange objects and wooden boxes of odds and ends lined the walls of the cart, along with shiny gold bottles and jewel-studded dagger cases.
The Jin sat upon an apple box, holding a mahogany box in his hands.
“Do close the doors,” he said, placing the box on his stool and latching the window hatch to close the cart entirely. For a moment in the darkness, Nan felt panic as the Jin struck a match and a dull lantern began to glow.
“Have a seat, Nan,” Languidere said as the Jin repositioned the apple box before her. Nan did as she was told, but even her curiosity was dampened by the tightness she felt in the close confines of the cart.
The Jin bent to his knee and presented the mahogany box to Nan, and Languidere began to snicker. “My gracious, you are dramatic,” she said, reaching to touch the Jin’s shoulder. He grabbed her hand and kissed her wrist before turning to Nan.
“Open and behold the greatest relic ever acquired.”
Nan rotated the bronze hook lock, and as she opened the lid, silver glittering light poured from within. Her eyes adjusted to see a pair of slippers of undeniably opulent craftsmanship resting on a bed of silk.
“Silver aura quartz, grey crystal, moonstone, teardrop grey diamonds—all of these are embedded in the purest form of lurlicite,” the Red Jin said to Nan, who sat on the apple box with Languidere firmly rubbing her shoulder.
“Let us see them on, dear Nan.” The princess’ voice was calculated.
“But why, Your Majesty?” Nan asked, pulling her boots under her gown.
“For me!” the Jin interjected. “You are a witch; I would like to see them illuminate on someone’s feet.
I’ve held them for so long and never seen them in their full splendor.
” The Jin spoke to the slippers, not to Nan, as he said this.
They were illuminated at his touch, and as his finger ran over stones, they drew glimmering fractals from within. How did he know she had the spark?
“You are a witch, aren’t you, Nan? So, let’s not hold back; let us see if they suit you.
” Languidere’s eyes flickered in the slipper’s glow within the cart.
There was no hiding anything from her now, for the suspicion that arose within the princess from Mombi’s accusation of hiding now needed to be satisfied.
“I demand it,” she said. And with that, the Jin reached beneath Nan’s skirt and began unlacing her boots.
“It is said they were a wedding gift from Lord Roquat to his bride,” the Red Jin said, tenderly sliding the strings from the eyeholes of Nan’s boots.
“Lord Roquat had no wife.” Languidere’s voice was sharp.
“Correct, but it didn’t stop him from trying. These were a gift he gave to none other than the former Queen of Ev. In hopes that she would leave the world above ground for him.”
Languidere leaned in with her mouth hanging. “Nasrin! Lord Roquat was courting Rosemarie’s old Mother?”
“Nasrin looked no older than you do, Princess, but she had far more experience.” Nan blushed at the tone in which he said this. “But the gift he gave in these slippers was so powerful—so powerful that it allowed her to travel through realms to escape him. So the rumor says.”
“Ridiculous,” Languidere groaned.
“How then did you come upon these?” Nan asked, enthralled by the story, but before he could answer, she felt soft lambskin at her heel, and then an explosion of light pulsated at her feet. Both he and Nan squinted against it.
“Well, it must be so very special,” Languidere cooed, her eyes reflecting a burning white light that her pupils did not respond to. She had no gift, and, to her, it must have all looked like a charade.
“I will purchase the slippers,” Languidere said abruptly. “Nan, remove my slippers. They were meant for a queen. They are far too daring for you. Far too daring for anyone, for that matter. Anyone who is not me.”
“I’m afraid they are not for sale,” the Red Jin said, taking them delicately from Nan’s feet.
As Nan’s eyes readjusted to the dimmer light, Languidere was unwavering. “Everything is for sale. I must have them.”
“Fine,” the Jin said, after taking his time to pack the slippers. He slammed the lid shut. “I need passage for myself and my cart and mule to the mainland of Oz, and a sack of gold. Say, twelve bars.” Languidere did not flinch. Why would she? It wasn’t her money she was spending.
“I will have the funds taken from the treasury,” Languidere said. “You may collect it from the palace tomorrow. I will command the guard to arrange your travel, but do stay a while. I could use your skills.”
The Jin winked as a gentle chime alerted the staff of the queen’s approach from the garden, followed by the hurried sound of carts being closed and slammed—evidence that Bernard had gone directly to the Chief of Staff, defying Languidere’s instructions to insult the queen with the justification for the merchant gathering.
Nan envied her brother and his station. She longed to defy Languidere’s orders.