Rescuing the Prince Read online

  Finally I gave up on explanations and just took in the shadowy scenery and the golden autumn moon rising over the woods. The clip clop and slow sway of Aeron’s horse lulled me into a half-doze until Ginger Beard said, “Almost home, Princess.”

  It seemed like a hilarious movie scene. I pictured men blowing trumpets as Ginger Beard announced, “All hail the princess,” and I passed in my grimy, ripped dress sitting with the carrots and cabbage.

  At least the castle wasn’t the grand structure I’d anticipated. It was more like a mansion, sprawling, constructed of wood, and with slate shingles rather than thatch. The grounds were wild, rather than manicured, and dark except for the moonlight. As we came closer, the front doors opened. Men and women carrying lanterns took their places on either side of the white stone walkway. Last came a woman who, from her regal bearing and icy, appraising stare, must’ve been Queen Arencaster.

  Ginger Beard hopped over the side of the wagon and extended both hands to me. “Princess, if I may be so bold.” I accepted his help somewhat self-consciously. I was used to people looking at me in Portalis Park, but this was a different dynamic entirely.

  The queen, I noticed out of the corner of my eye, remained near the door. She stood very straight and held her head proudly. I wondered what kind of relationship she and her daughter had. Did she worry about Fiona while she was gone?

  I wasn’t sure what to do, so I just stood by the wagon and waited for the guards and the queen to take the lead. Ginger Beard nodded at Corwin, and the two of them looked at me. They started toward her. I followed them, keeping a few steps behind.

  “Your Majesty,” Ginger Beard said when we three were within speaking distance. He and Corwin inclined their heads and sank down to one knee.

  My heart gave a nervous jump. Should I curtsy? Bow? I stood with my feet rooted to the spot. As the queen and her guards exchanged pleasantries, I was able to think past my conditioning at the Portalis Princess boot camp. A princess wouldn’t bow to her own mother.

  “Fiona!” Queen Arencaster said, sharply enough for me to deduce that she had said it once already. “Come inside. I have things I wish to say to you.”

  “There is one thing we did not mention, Queen,” Corwin said. “Princess Fiona has been enchanted. She hasn’t said a word since we found her.”

  “The better for her to hear my council, then. Thank you, guardsmen,” the queen said by way of dismissal. She beckoned me behind her, leaving me with no choice but to follow her into the castle.

  The interior was too dark for me to make out rooms or furniture. The lanterns only gave tantalizing hints. The queen and I stopped at the bottom of a wide stairwell. Here, she took a lantern from one of her servants before dismissing them.

  At the top of stairs, we turned to the right and proceeded down a hall furnished with hutches and cabinets. The scent of wood sweetened the still air. Soon the queen opened a heavy wood and iron door. This room was lit, both by a cozy fire and several braziers. In their light, I saw shelves bulging with massive tomes, their covers as thick as my thumb. Any museum back home would pay a fortune to acquire them. More books were piled on the tables, alongside candles in wood and pewter holders.

  At last Queen Arencaster turned to me. “Uncanny,” she said, squinting as though she meant to scrutinize my every pore. She held the lantern so close to my face I could feel the heat emanating through the glass. “But you, silent one, are not my daughter.”

  Too astonished to be afraid, I burst out, “How do you know?”

  “My daughter only wears a dress under extreme duress,” Queen Arencaster said, shaking her head. “If I threatened to take away her horse or burn her precious wooden swords in the fireplace, she’d act like the lady she was born to be…but only for a day or two. Then it’d be back to breeches for her.”

  “And she’s run away.”

  “Yes. But more importantly, who are you? And where do you come from? Where do the women dress so extravagantly?”

  The queen’s last question almost tied my tongue into knots. The Cinderella dress couldn’t have been more different from hers, with its pale blue fabric and fancy puffy skirt, to say nothing of the glittery overlayer. Queen Arencaster’s dress consisted of a single layer of dark, floor-length fabric belted at the waist with off-white sleeves that widened the bottom. The triangular neckline barely revealed her collarbones. She wore no jewelry, save for a simple golden circlet.

  “My name is Leah. I’m originally from California -”

  The queen cut me off. “What is your family name? Are you actually a princess? Or are you an urchin wearing a stolen dress? I’ve never heard of a land called ‘California.’”

  I’d always hated when people asked me a bunch of questions at once. Sometimes I’d get lucky and ask them to slow down or to break the questions down for me. The queen was on a roll, however. I had the feeling she was going to be one of those people who completely ran me over in conversations. “My family name is Heroman.”

  “Heroman. Heroman,” Queen Arencaster mumbled, trying out my name. “I’ve never heard of the Heroman’s.”

  “Well, I’m not surprised,” I said, a little startled at my own boldness. “You won’t believe how I got here. Anyway, the question of whether I’m a princess or not is a bit tricky.”

  “How is that?” the queen said. “Are you a princess, or are you not?” There was no mistaking her waning patience.

  I didn’t know how to explain it to her. Her world was so different from mine. But I had to say something. I hoped the truth would suffice. “I get paid to pretend I’m a princess and make other people, lots of people, believe that, too.”

  “What a strange custom,” Queen Arencaster said. “So you are a swindler like the Wagoners.”

  “I prefer to think of myself as an actress. Player,” I tried again, seeing her confusion.

  “And are you skilled at this deception, Leah Heroman?”

  “Of course!” I said, imitating Queen Arencaster’s brisk, no-nonsense tone.

  “I think this may be fate,” the queen said.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Won’t you please sit down?” Queen Arencaster motioned to one of two chairs before the fire. I chose the smaller one; she took the other. “Five years ago,” Queen Arencaster began, “my husband King James Arencaster left on a personal pilgrimage, taking no one with him, neither guard nor servant. Something must have befallen him on the way, for he never returned, and none we sent after him, even the most skilled huntsmen, found any trace of him. This entire time, I have ruled in his stead. Even now, I hope in his return. For that reason, I insist on the address ‘Queen Arencaster.’”

  So that explained why her subjects didn’t call her by her first name.

  “On the surface, the Autumn Lands are peaceful, but the truth is, internal strife plagues our ruling houses. Arencaster's lack of king has drawn the attention of Latule, one of the two other powerful families in the Autumn Lands. When my husband had been gone for a year, my younger sister Lavinia, who married into Latule, called a council of the three houses: Latule, Ivenbury, and Arencaster. She desired that they pass a law requiring a king to rule in Autumnstead. The vote was close, but ultimately the council decided that because the king and I have an heir — Princess Fiona — Lavinia's case did not stand.

  “I wish that my husband and I had been able to have more children. Since her father's disappearance, Princess Fiona’s usual high energy and disdain for ladylike pursuits became disobedience, and then defiance. She has no respect for her birthright, resents the duties it confers on her.

  “In mere weeks, it will be a year since Fiona ran away, the longest she has ever strayed. At that time, the council has ruled she will be assumed dead, like King James, and I will have no choice but to surrender our titles, lands, everything to another, stronger house. It shall be Latule, no doubt, if my sister still holds the sway she does in the council.

  “But you… You look so much like Princess Fiona, you
managed to fool the guards. And more, you are well-practiced in deceiving people to think you are a princess. If you pretended to be my daughter, returned and repented, you could buy time, both for me and the house of Arencaster.”

  I had to open and close my mouth a few times before my voice would work. My first instinct was to warn the queen that what she wanted was very different from my profession. Pretending with children was very different from deceiving important political figures. Then I remembered my Mom’s tip the day I tried out for Cinderella: don’t disqualify yourself. And since I had no idea how to get home and didn’t know anyone in Autumnstead, this really did seem like a fated arrangement.

  “I realize this is much to ask of a stranger. But as Queen Marjorie Arencaster and on behalf of the entire house of Arencaster, living and dead, I implore you.”

  “Yes,” I said in a voice that I wished sounded as grand as hers. Despite her plea, Queen Arencaster sounded so confident and accustomed to being obeyed, to say nothing of being heard. “I will help you, Your Majesty.”

  Despite my supposed resemblance to her daughter, Queen Arencaster looked nothing like my mom, who had a heart-shaped face, browned by the sun or bronzer, depending on the time of year. I rarely saw her blonde hair up after she’d cut it, shortly after the divorce. Since quitting her job to teach yoga, she smiled and laughed a lot more.

  Queen Arencaster’s face, by contrast, was sharply-angled with prominent cheekbones. Her hair, the pale gold of winter grass edged in frost, formed its own heavy, plaited crown on top her head. This taut style increased the severity of her already-serious expression.

  Yet when I agreed to help, her gem-hard blue eyes softened, and her thin lips rose. “Thank you,” she inclined her head to me, just an inch or so. “Come. We shall go to Fiona’s room.”

  Before she left, Queen Arencaster stood for a few moments in front of the bookshelves, running her finger along the spines. At last she selected two thick volumes. I wondered if they were going to be her nighttime reading.

  Princess Fiona’s room consisted of a four-poster bed in dark wood, a matching nightstand with a ceramic pitcher and bowl, a table under the window, several chairs before a modest fireplace, a closed wooden trunk. The only item with any real personality was the tapestry on the wall above the fireplace. It showed several warriors with very detailed coats of arms clashing in battle.

  “My daughter did not sew that,” Queen Arencaster said when she noticed me looking. “It is an Arencaster family heirloom. She doesn’t know its true value; to her it’s just an extension of those trashy tales the Wagoners act out and my guardsmen repeat to another for amusement.”

  Well, this was one way to learn about Fiona.

  “Fiona can barely sew a straight line of stitches,” Queen Arencaster continued.

  “What else can you tell me about her?” I hoped to hear something positive about the missing princess.

  “Everything you need to know is in these.” Queen Arencaster set a stack of heavy books on Fiona’s table.

  “The House of Arencaster: Past and Present. Minor Houses of the Autumn Lands: Ivenbury and Latule,” I read the titles out loud. “I’m certain these are fascinating,” I ventured. “But what do they have to do with Fiona?”

  “Honor is everything,” Queen Arencaster answered cryptically.

  Whoa, was that it? Not that I expected a montage like in the movies, but… “I hate to…” I scrambled for my best customer and boss-placating words, “contradict Your Majesty. But what about Fiona’s personality? Who does she like in Ivenbury and Latule? Who does she dislike? How does she carry herself?” I was starting to feel like I had been given a bad script at a cast member acting workshop. How was I supposed to work with such limited material?

  “You… I…” the queen sputtered. “That doesn’t matter! You became ‘enchanted’ during your travels. The silence that entails should protect you from most questions and keep people from discovering your strange manner of speaking. Just sit up straight and nod to acknowledge everyone who is your elder!

  “This meeting is at an end,” Queen Arencaster said. “Tomorrow night I will send servants to dress you. You are not to speak to them. Do not be late.”

  Her brisk commands left me too stunned to speak. The moment the door shut behind her, I experienced what my therapist called an assault of the what-if’s.

  What if someone in Ivenbury or Latule offered to lift the enchantment? Then what would we do about my Fiona façade? And where the hell was dinner going to be? For all I knew, it was outside the castle!

  Now I knew how the girl in Rumpelstiltskin felt facing the entire room of straw she was supposed to turn to gold.

  But more, I felt sorry for Fiona. I wonder if she knew her mother as little as the queen knew her.

  Chapter Three

  Faxon and Tolliver

  Fiona’s bed was as medieval as it looked. The blankets and pillows smelled like they’d sat in an antique store for years, and lumps riddled the mattress - if that’s what they called it back then.

  I could easily envision Fiona stealing out to sleep under the stars in spring. How much worse could wet grass and the company of cows or sheep be?

  I’d drawn the bed curtains, but the thick fabric still couldn’t defend against the chilly night air, even with the shutters closed. With longing, I considered the fireplace. That had to be the secret to staying warm at night. Fiona, tomboy that she was, could probably light it with ease. I, however, had only ever regarded the Girl Scouts with awe and longing. My elementary school self couldn’t imagine attending their meetings and going willingly into the woods away from everything familiar. Just attending school most days could be a battle.

  Still, with my teeth chattering, I resolutely pushed covers and curtains aside and slid my feet into Fiona’s shoes. The soles were heavy, and the toes were stiff, as though they hadn’t been broken in yet. I pictured the missing princess running around Autumnstead in bare feet, to the embarrassment of Queen Arencaster and the scandalized amusement of the court and subjects.

  I had snooped around Fiona’s room for this nightgown and her shoes; now I would hunt for anything like matches. When had they been invented, anyway?

  Unfortunately, I hadn’t missed anything in my first search. I huddled back in the blankets, trying to remember everything I knew about starting fires. Why, oh why, had I blown out all the candles before going to bed? It was all in the name of safety, but now I was going to freeze to death!

  I slipped into a dose in which B.R. Lapin, the cartoon rabbit who was Portalis Park’s mascot, rubbed two sticks together faster than real world physics would allow and started a fire. I was just savoring the orange glow when I awoke with a sneeze.

  “Rub two sticks together, eh,” I muttered. I had to try. Without sleep, how did I have any hope of surviving tomorrow night’s dinner?

  The fireplace wood formed a neat stack on the hearth. Most of the pieces were the size of small logs. With some struggling, I freed two from the tight leather cord.

  “Here we go.” I lifted one chunk. Phew! It was heavier than I thought. I hoped the flame would kindle soon; this could get tiring really fast. I tried a few different angles before settling on going back and forth, like a sawblade. There, I had a rhythm, but no spark yet. If I kept this up, I reflected wryly, the exercise would get me warm and tired.

  A sound from behind made me whirl around. The door was locked, and a glance at the window revealed closed shutters. As the only one in the chamber, I couldn’t attribute the noise to a cat or some other creature. Worse still, I recognized the sound now: the scuff of a leather shoe against the wooden floor. The bed was blocking my view. Cold sweat ran down my face. Suppose Ivenbury or Latule already knew of “Fiona’s” return and had come to welcome her with a knife while she slept? I lifted the firewood like a club and brandished it in what I thought was the intruder’s direction.

  “Good morning, Princess,” a cheery voice sang out. “It’s rather early to be awake.
”

  Mysteriously, two people had just appeared in my room. They wore the same armor as the guards who had brought me to Castle Arencaster. The sight relieved me, but I didn’t dare trust them just yet.

  “What about you?” I shot back, rather testily.

  “There is no hour in Autumnstead when a guardsman is not awake,” the slender soldier replied grandly. Beneath his helmet, his fair hair was caught up in a messy braid that reached the center of his back. More flamboyant than fighter, I thought, surprising myself with the stereotype. I might have a chance against the blonde one alone. However, the silent, stocky man behind him clearly supplied the muscles he lacked.

  “Who are you, and what are you doing in my room?” I finally recovered the wits to ask.

  “Allow me to introduce myself,” the soldier said, sweeping off his helm and bowing deeply. “I am Faxon, and this is my fellow soldier Tolliver. We serve the house of Arencaster and the kingdom of Autumnstead. As to why we have come, Queen Arencaster has confided her plight to us. We are here to teach you about Princess Fiona and Autumnstead, and if need be, protect you.”

  “How did you get in?” I demanded, my suspicion lessening in spite of myself.

  “Let this be your first lesson,” Faxon declared. “Castle Arencaster has secret ways within its walls.”

  “You mean, hidden passages?”

  “That’s right, er…” Tolliver ventured.

  “My name is Leah.”

  “It’s a pleasure, Leah.” Tolliver bowed.

  “We must be careful to address you as ‘Princess’ when others are around.” Faxon worded it as a suggestion, but it carried more weight than that.

  “Why did you come so late at night?” I tried not to sound too harsh. I was still somewhat suspicious of the guards, but I wanted to believe they told the truth. Although she was sheltering me, Queen Arencaster was so distant. In this strange new land, I needed friends.