Fantastical

Chapter Fifteen Life Is Good

Six weeks later…

“Ready to go, Aggie?” I called to the fully recuperated, but unfortunately now flightless, bird who was hopping around on my dressing table.

“Chirpy, chirp,” Aggie replied excitedly, which meant, “Ready, Cora!”

Aggie liked our excursions. Being flightless, he didn’t get out unless I took him and he’d told me he missed the fresh air, uninterrupted vistas and daily adventures. I couldn’t give him any adventures but I did what I could every day to give him a change of scenery so he wouldn’t get bored.

I extended a finger to the tiny bird, he hopped on then I lifted my arm as he hopped up it and took his usual place on my shoulder.

Then I left Tor and my rooms and wandered down the wide hall toward the stairs.

I was down half the flight when, around a curve, I saw Lucinda, one of the maids, on her hands and knees scrubbing the stairs with a scrub brush, the marble steps behind her glistening wet and so clean, they could be in a commercial.

“Oh!” I cried and her head shot up, she spied me and her mouth formed a tentative (what I was sure was forced) smile.

“Your grace,” she said through her smile.

“I’m sorry, you’re cleaning. We’ll use the backstairs,” I told her, lifted my skirts and started backing up.

“No!” she cried, straightening and lifting up a hand to forestall me. “It’s just fine, I’ll scrub up after you. No problem at all. Use these.”

See. There it was. The smile was totally fake. Like always. She was scared she’d do something to upset me, which would make me complain to Tor, which would mean he’d unleash black prince fury. And she was willing to do anything to stop that. Including letting me trod on her hard work. Cleaning stairs on your hands and knees with a scrub brush had to suck. She didn’t even have a pad for her knees!

“No, that’s all right,” I assured her, continuing to move back as well as starting to turn. “It’s perfectly fine. Enjoy the celebrations this afternoon,” I finished then I fully turned and jogged up the stairs, hurried down the hall and took the backstairs.

I made it without encountering anyone, moving quickly through the halls to the mammoth entry in order not to run into anyone else and then I went out the enormous double front doors that had to be at least two stories tall and were open to the sunshiny day.

“It’s a beautiful day,” I told Aggie, my only friend in this world, as I strolled through.

“Chirp, chirp, chirp,” Aggie replied which meant, “That it is, Cora.”

I made it down the wide steps leading up to the castle, my eyes on the sun glinting diamonds off the big, beautiful, circular, gushing fountain in the middle of the courtyard in front of the castle and as I hit the bottom, a vivid flock of small birds swooped low, flying around me so close, they blew the flimsy pale pink skirts of my gown forward, my hair flew too as the wind from their wings caused a light breeze to surround me.

I giggled as they flew (this wasn’t the first time this happened, the first time I freaked way the hell out, now I was a dab hand) and they chirped, most of their chirps being, “Morning, Cora!”

“Morning, birds!” I called after them as their brightness faded into the sun.

Then I looked across the courtyard, not noticing (because I’d learned to keep myself to myself) that all the men and women in the courtyard were gazing at me with indulgent smiles and I spied Salem across the expanse.

“Salem!” I cried with delight, snatched Aggie off my shoulder so he wouldn’t go flying (figuratively) and skipped excitedly across the space while holding Aggie carefully in my hand.

Salem watched me and when I got close, I threw my arms around his glossy neck, deftly letting Aggie out of my hand so he could hop up on Salem’s back.

Salem whinnied and when I stepped back and grinned at him, he stuffed his nose in my neck and blew.

I laughed out loud because it tickled.

“Look at you, you beautiful beast. I’ve missed you. I haven’t seen you for a whole week!” I cried.

Salem snorted.

“How do you like that, Algernon?” A deep, handsome voice came from Salem’s other side and I ducked under the beast’s neck to see Tor standing there, arms crossed on his chest, powerful legs planted wide, eyes on me, his sergeant at arms, Algernon, at his side. “My wife flies across the courtyard to hug my horse and she doesn’t even look at me.”

Salem whinnied in a way that I could swear was laughter, I grinned at Tor, moved under Salem stroking him as I went then, when I cleared him, I flew the four feet to Tor and threw myself in his arms.

I had my face in his neck so I didn’t see the indulgent smiles all around widen or the knowing, happy looks that were exchanged as Tor whirled me in a circle, setting my legs and skirts to flying, then he set me down on my feet in front of him.

I leaned close, resting into my arms with my hands flat on his chest and my head tipped way back to look in his light blue eyes.

“How are you this morning, my husband?” I asked on a smile.

His arms around me gave me a tight squeeze. “Very well, my wife. How are you?”

I leaned closer and whispered, “Very well.”

His eyes warmed then scanned my face.

Then one of his hands slid from my back, around my waist, to come to rest, weirdly, palm flat, on my belly.

Then his neck bent deep and his face was all I could see when he murmured, “How well, my love?”

“Very, very well,” I replied on a grin, leaned up the inch he left and touched my mouth to his.

Then I forced myself to look at the strapping, blond Algernon who would, in return, pretend to like me.

Tor had not been wrong about his men so the folks of the city and castle loathed me but his men despised me. This I found out in an unpleasant way when some words were uttered in my direction (if not to my face), words, or, in particular, a word (starting with a “c”) that I didn’t know they even had in fairytale lands.

This incident I had been smart enough not to share with Tor.

“Heya, Algernon.”

He grinned at me and it was a good one. It looked nearly genuine. But it did not meet his eyes.

Then he bowed at the same time he touched his fingers to his forehead and said, “Good morning, Princess Cora.”

I smiled at him and looked back at Tor.

Then I asked the question I’d asked every day as each of them slid by with two things not happening: me going home (and it seemed pretty clear I was stuck here, it felt like I’d been there forever); and Rosa being rescued.

“Any news of –?”

Tor’s eyes went guarded and he gave me another squeeze.

“No, love.”

I pulled in both my lips and bit them.

Tor, as he always did, swiftly changed the subject, likely, I guessed, because he knew it upset me.

“What are you up to today?” he asked and I shook my head.

“You can’t ask me that question,” I informed him.

“I can’t?”

“Nope.”

His brows drew together. “And why not, wife? I ask it of you every day.”

“Yes, well,” I smiled up at him and pushed closer, “every day is not my husband’s birthday.”

His eyes scanned my face again as his body went still but his arms got tight.

And today was his birthday. I learned he was thirty-eight that day. And it was going to be a day of fun and festivities. There were going to be games and dancing and parties and street vendors and, that night, fireworks set off on the ships in the sea.

I was dreading it. I would have to spend all day with his people all around, pretending they liked me. It was going to be torture.

What I was not dreading were my plans for him.

I was going to bake him a birthday cake.

I had no money (anything I bought in the village was tallied up and sent as a bill to Perdita to pay) and I had no way of earning money and I didn’t want him to have to pay for his own birthday present.

So I was going to give him something from my world.

I was going to make him a red velvet cake (without the red, of course, because I was pretty sure they didn’t have red food dye). I was going to do this because it was the only cake I knew how to make by memory and also it was a freaking great cake.

I just hoped I could find all the ingredients.

“And what do you have planned for my birthday, my sweet?” Tor asked quietly, regaining my attention.

“Again, honey, you’re not allowed to ask.” My hand slid from his chest to his jaw and I whispered, “You’ll see.”

His eyes moved over my face again before he replied, “What I see is, whatever it is, I should look forward to it.”

“Oh yes,” I returned.

His fingers dug into my hip, he dipped his head to brush my lips with his and when he pulled away he murmured, “Then I’ll leave you to it.”

I didn’t want him to leave me to it.

In this world, I had Aggie and I had Tor. But Tor was a prince, he ruled a princedom and his sister-in-law was in the clutches of an evil witch-god. He had a number of things to occupy his mind. Which meant, as each day threaded into the next, I had to find ways to amuse myself without him.

Which sucked.

But, when he came to me in the evenings, he found ways to make it all worth it.

I pulled away giving him a bright smile and calling, “See you later.”

I smiled at Algernon, gave Salem another stroke, collected Aggie, setting him on my shoulder and didn’t quite meet the eyes of my many onlookers as I sauntered away.

“You need to be back, Cora, by noon!” Tor called from behind me.

“I will, honey!” I called back. “Way before that!”

I made it three more steps before a fat, ginger cat wove through my ankles.

“Brrr morrrrning, Prrrrrincess Corrrra,” she purred.

“Calliope, like I tell you every day, you can’t eat Aggie,” I admonished, she leaped away but stopped, sat on her fat tush and blinked at me in irritation.

Distracted by Calliope, I caught a vendor’s eyes accidentally; he gave me a seemingly bright smile, tipped his cap respectfully and muttered, “Princess Cora.”

“How are you, Boris?”

He straightened from the wares he was organizing and winked. “Doin’ well, with the party comin’ on. Bellebryn throws a good party, especially for its prince. Wait ‘til you see, yer grace.”

“Can’t wait!” I cried, clapping my hands in front of me and lying through my teeth.

“See you there, yer grace,” he called as I moved away.

“Save a dance for me, Boris,” I called back then I gave him a bright wave and brighter smile before I moved through the vast, black, wrought iron, silver crest encrusted gates and into the village.

As I strode the cobbled streets, I smiled and nodded my head as people smiled back. I returned greetings when they were offered to me. I extended them when I saw someone I knew or was given an opening. I touched little children’s heads when I passed them, grinning into (fake) beaming mothers’ faces.

Mostly, I chatted with Aggie, who chatted back, and I worried I wasn’t going to be able to find mascarpone cheese.

Then I went to the house with the blue door and knocked.

It was thrown open by a harassed-looking, wide-hipped woman who had a two year old, bawling toddler at her hip and a four year old, snot-faced child clutching her skirts.

She bobbed a curtsy and then looked in my eyes. “Oh, Princess Cora, I’m glad you’re here! Thank the gods you could make it on this, of all days.”

I tipped my head to the side and stated, “I never miss a day, Blanche, you know that.”

And I didn’t. When I’d heard Perdita talking with one of the maids about her cousin Blanche who had two children, a husband away at sea and a frail mother to look after, I’d cautiously offered my services to help out any way I could. Perdita had asked Blanche and then informed me those services were taken up.

So, every day, never missing one, I went to the house with the blue door so Blanche could do whatever she needed to do and I could look after her mother for a spell.

Her face broke into a smile and she muttered, “No, thank the gods yet again, you never do. Bless you. She’s upstairs, waiting for you.”

“Right, scurry on, you all!” I ordered, rumpling the four year old’s hair as he passed by. Then Aggie and I went into the house and I jogged up the wooden steps, circled the railing and entered the room where the old woman sat in her rocker, staring out at the sea but seeing, I knew, nothing. “Heya, Clarabelle,” I called softly and her sightless eyes came to me, her face wreathed in a genuine smile.

I was wrong. I didn’t just have Aggie and Tor. Clarabelle, I was pretty certain, also liked me.

“Chirp!” Aggie chirped his greeting.

“Hullo, my princess. Hullo, Aggie,” she called back, I moved into the room, grabbing the book as I passed it. I dragged a chair toward her, bent to kiss the paper-thin skin of her cheek then lifted my fingers for Aggie to hop onto.

He did, I transferred him to Clarabelle’s offered hand then she brought him toward her and stroked him as I sat.

“Do you want me to get right into it? We left it at a good part last time,” I reminded her.

“If you want, Cora, my dear. Or, we can chat. Are you well?” she replied.

“Very,” I somewhat lied.

There were things that were good (dinner at night with Tor, bedtime, again with Tor, waking up when Tor was there and sometimes I could lose myself in the fantasyland around me) and other things that were bad.

“And our prince?” she asked.

“Um… worried about his brother, I think,” I answered, having told her (although no one else knew and I swore her to secrecy) about Rosa, Dash and the evil Minerva.

“I daresay, he would be,” she murmured, her voice somehow strange, then her hand came out, searching, I extended mine, she caught it and squeezed it gently. “You sure you’re well?” she asked softly.

“I’m perfectly fine,” I outright lied. “Happy,” I kind of lied. “Life is good.”

She squeezed again and let me go with an, “If you say so, my dear.”

Hmm. It would seem I needed to be better with my act, even, maybe especially with an old, blind lady.

“So, shall I start reading? Blanche will be back with the kids before we know it, mayhem will ensue and you won’t know if the pirate was able to cow the fair maiden to his will.”

She smiled a gentle smile. “Well, I can’t miss that.”

I opened the book to its marked page and mumbled, “Certainly not.”

I heard her quiet chuckle and I reached out a hand and squeezed her knee.

Aggie chirped a, “Read, Cora!” (he liked this story too).

So I let my friend go and started to read out loud.