FOUR
MIST TRAILED IN THROUGH THE OPEN WINDOW at dawn, wrapping around Aurora’s clammy, feverish skin as she leaned against the sill. She ached all over, in the insides of her elbows and the backs of her knees.
The city below was gradually coming to life. The buildings seemed to climb on top of one another, far into the distance, until they met a large wall, as tall as the castle at least, dotted with towers and flags. Women hurried along the cobbled street below Aurora’s window, baskets balanced on their arms. A couple of carts passed too, slow things hauled by donkeys, half-full of grain or bursting with cloths.
The door creaked open. “Aurora, dear. I’m glad to see you’re awake.”
The queen stood in the doorway. Even at this early hour, she looked the picture of royalty, her eyes clear and bright, her black hair braided around the crown of her head. Aurora caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the glass on the wall: beyond pale, with lips like bruises amid a tangle of golden hair. Sleeping Beauty indeed.
“I do hope I haven’t disturbed you,” the queen said as she swept into the room. “I thought we might have breakfast together.”
Aurora fought the urge to step back against the window. “But I am not dressed, Your Majesty.”
“That is no matter,” she said as she beckoned in a servant with a wave of her wrist. “We are all women here, aren’t we? Besides,” she added as the servant set a tray of fruit and tea on the table, “I wished to speak with you before the day grew too late.” The queen was smiling, all politeness and ease, but something sharp nestled in her eyes and in the points of her cheekbones. “Shall we sit?”
Aurora nodded. She got the feeling the queen wasn’t someone you refused. The queen sat, carefully, sweeping her skirts out of the way with one smooth motion. Aurora balanced on the edge of the other chair, her stomach tight.
The queen poured herself a cup of breakfast tea. “I am sure you must be excited,” she said. “About the wedding. I am afraid I must disappoint you. I know you will want to be married as soon as possible, but my advisors have informed me that the best time will not be until three weeks from today.”
“Three weeks?” They planned to marry her in three weeks. Twenty-one days.
“I know,” the queen said. “I was quite upset as well. But our best dressmakers are away in Fellbridge, the stewards tell me that we do not have enough food for an adequate feast, and we must declare it a holiday, of course. . . . I am afraid to say that you have caught us quite unawares.” She sighed and sipped her tea. “However, we shall have an engagement ceremony in eight days, which is what I wanted to discuss with you. The people already love you, but it never hurts to be prepared—”
“Your Majesty.” The queen paused, her cup of tea suspended halfway to her lips. I have to stop this, Aurora thought. Her lungs were squeezed in a fist, her heartbeat little more than a tremor in her chest. I have to speak. “It’s so soon,” she said. “I don’t—I mean . . . I hardly know him.”
The queen frowned. “The wedding has been prophesized for a hundred years,” she said. “Surely you know him enough.”
“But . . .” She stared at her hands. Say it, she thought. You have to say it. “What if I don’t want to marry him?”
The queen placed the teacup on the table. The clatter of porcelain sliced through the air. “This is why I wanted to talk to you now, dear. It would not do for others to hear you speaking this way. Prewedding jitters are perfectly natural, but in the end, we cannot let these silly fancies take control of us. You know it is for the best.”
“No,” she said. “I don’t know. I don’t mean to hurt Rodric’s feelings—”
“Oh, I do not mean Rodric, my dear. Everyone is going to be talking about you, and if you do not marry him as soon as possible . . . do you not see how dangerous that would be? You spent your whole life in the castle, is that right? You have never seen the outside world. So tell me, Aurora. Do you know what happens to valuable resources when they remain unclaimed?” Aurora forced herself to look the queen in the eyes. She could think of no reply. “You mean so much to so many people. Everyone will fight to control you, to lock you up and use you for their own ends.”
“Everyone?” Aurora said. “Who is everyone?”
“It is enough to say that many people, ruthless people, want to gain control of this kingdom, and many will see you as the key to doing so. If you do not take your rightful place here . . . well, I dread to think what will happen.” The queen raised her two perfectly arched eyebrows into a look teetering between admonition and concern. “Do you want to be the cause of war in the kingdom? Do you want innocent people to die because of you?”
Aurora dug her fingers into the arms of the chair. Once, when she was very young, she had broken into her father’s library and stolen a book of stories. In one of the tales, a girl had wished for beauty that would enchant everyone who set eyes on her. So many men fell in love with her that they began to fight, chopping off one another’s heads and running children through with swords. When the men surrounded the girl, they all grabbed a limb, a piece of clothing, a scrap of hair, and pulled, until she was torn into enough pieces for everyone to share. Aurora had had nightmares for weeks, of hands grasping her out of the darkness, pulling her left and right, snatching every second of her life away. And that was just for beauty. They will hurt me, she thought, if I do not do as they say.
“Well?” the queen asked. “Do you?”
“No,” she said softly. “No, I don’t.”
“No,” the queen said. “And we cannot protect you until the marriage takes place. Do you see?”
Aurora saw. The king and queen would not help her until she confirmed that she was theirs. “Yes,” she said. “I see.”
“I knew you would understand. I know I was terrified before my marriage to John, but we are women, Aurora. We can be strong.” The queen still watched Aurora, her forehead dented by the smallest of frowns. “The wedding will be in twenty-one days. You should not concern yourself over it. Smile. Curtsy. Be quiet and predictable. We can practice, if these things are beyond you.”
“No,” she said tightly. “I can manage.”
“Come along, then.” The queen clasped Aurora’s chin and tilted it upward. “Give me your best smile.”
Aurora attempted a sickly whisper of a smile. The muscles in her face shook. Her eyes stung.
“It will do.” The queen released her chin and stood up. “I must go and speak to Rodric, set the preparations underway. But this was a good talk, Aurora. It is important that we see eye to eye on these matters.”
Aurora nodded. She stood up, mirroring the queen’s movements automatically.
“And do me a favor?” The queen took Aurora’s hand in her own. Rings pressed cold against her bare skin. “Do not leave this room until you are sent for. As much as it pains me to say it, things are not completely safe for you. We only want to protect you until the marriage is secure.”
“I understand,” Aurora said.
“I will have some books sent,” the queen added. “Things you might find of interest. Some stories, some bits of history. I understand that you used to like reading.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” She forced herself to raise her chin, her hair falling back so she could look the queen in the eye again. For the first time, her smile was almost natural. “Yes, I did.” Perhaps the answers would come, as they always did, from the pages of a book.
“Excellent. Then I hope you enjoy yourself. It was lovely talking to you, my dear.”
“Yes,” Aurora said. She slipped into a curtsy. Her hands were numb. “You too, Your Majesty.”
“Please,” the queen said. “Call me Iris.”