A foyer of preposterous size stretched before us, with a golden carpet nine feet wide laid over a parquet floor that glowed from the reflected light of beeswax candles lining the foyer walls. Massive curved stairways to our left and right led to ornately-railed halls on the floor above. Beneath the overhanging hallway, the foyer darkened ominously, and I shrieked when a pair of gentle hands settled on my shoulders as if to remove my cloak.
The hands, startled, disappeared at my shriek. Father and I both spun around to find no one there at all. I clutched my heart and my cloak, wild-eyed with something between laughter and fear. "Invisible servants," I said again, once more shrilly, and swept my cloak off before I could reconsider the action. There was hardly a moment's hesitation before the cloak's weight left my hands, and then, as if to entice us, the pop and crackle off a hearth fire suddenly lit the distant darkness of the foyer. Father handed his wet cloak to the invisible servant as well, and we went, with great haste, toward the fire.
By the time we arrived at it there were dry clothes waiting for us, and a changing shield with its warm side to the fire, that we might dress in privacy without sacrificing any moment of warmth. I hadn't realized how cold I was until we were out of it, nor how damp with snow all my clothes had become. I pulled on soft, thick stockings and whimpered at the warmth and comfort of them, and gratefully layered myself in petticoats, a dress, and shawls before emerging from behind the changing shield.
Fur slippers awaited me, and a hat and muff. I pulled them on and sat on a thick fur in front of the fire, shivering because I was now warming up. Moments later Father, as bundled and comfortable-looking as I felt, joined me. We hugged, as much to reassure each other of our normality, at least, and fell back with sheepish smiles. A scrape sounded behind us and I turned to find two large, comfortable chairs had appeared, and between them, a small wooden table with two enormous, steaming mugs resting on it. "Oh, stars. Is that cider?"
It was, and no other drink in all my life warmed me so much as that mug did that day. Its rich, sweet, spicy flavor needed no alcohol to bring on weariness: the long day's travel through the snow, and the tremendous warmth of the fire, did that job. I drank the cider faster, determined to have it finished before sleep took me, and later, could only suppose that I'd succeeded, as I awoke eventually nestled in the same chair, and without cider spilled on my clothes.
Father had stretched out on the fur in front of the fire and was snoring gently. I chortled and went in search of a necessary, which I would never have found if an exquisitely detailed panel in the wall had not happened to open and reveal a latrine with a chamber pot. I said, "Thank you," to the empty air, and went about my business, wondering if invisible servants had senses of smell and whether it was unpleasant for them to empty latrines.
The necessary dealt with, I crept to the tall windows by the front doors and peered outside, where the only alleviation from the pitch-black night was the snow swirling madly around the palace. I could hardly hear it, even at the window, and so returned to the fire, grateful to sleep the rest of the night and wait out the storm.
In my absence, someone had brought a chaise in and placed it as close to the fire as it would fit without resting on Father. I whispered, "Thank you!" again, and crawled on to it, asleep within moments.
The scent of breakfast woke me again some time later. Eggs, toasted bread, bacon—oh, stars, bacon!—crisply-flavored apple juice, scones with salted butter and jelly: Father woke to the sounds of my feasting, and we both ate until our bellies ached. "All right," I said when I could eat no more, "I admit there's something to be said for unadulterated luxury."
"I could marry even Pearl off, with this bacon as her dowry," Father said with a smile, then lifted his gaze to the room and added, somewhat awkwardly, "Thank you."
An agreeable silence responded, and we sighed as one with content. "The storm hadn't stopped yet, last night, but I wonder if we can find our way to Beauty. I'm sure she's fine, but I'd like to check on her."
A handful of candles lit immediately, and then, when we didn't rise, a few more beyond them came to life as well. Father and I exchanged glances, ending with me shrugging my eyebrows and stealing another scone. "Lead on," I said to the candles, and, nibbling on the scone, followed the castle's guidance through tall, echoing halls down to a modest door that led into the stables.
Beauty stood fat and glossy in a stall, so full of hay and grain that she leaned lazily against one of the box walls with her eyelids drooping sleepily. She'd been brushed to a shine, and her feathery leg hair was fluffed and lovely. I got her an apple she absolutely didn't need, and she slobbered it from my hand more graciously than usual. Then I pushed the stable door open, finding the estate outside a glittering wonderland under icy clear blue skies. Father came to stand with me at the door a moment before letting out a long, relieved breath. "I'll harness Beauty, and we can begin to find our way home."
"What, and offend our invisible hosts?" I asked, amused. "Wait five minutes, then turn around, and I bet you'll find her harnessed and ready to go. I wonder if the road is clear, though." Not that there'd been a road, or not one worth mentioning. Just the rolling patch of shallow snow attending us so we could make our way to the hidden palace in the woods. "Or if the enchantment will clear a path…."
"The enchantment brought us this far. We may as well trust it to the end." An odd note came into Father's voice. I looked askance at him, but he shook his head, passing it off, so I let it pass as well.
"Five minutes," I wagered. "I'm going to take that five minutes to look around a little. I might skate across those ponds."
"In your boots?"
"I wouldn't be surprised if there are skates waiting for me," I said blithely, and went forth into the blinding morning.
It was quiet until I picked the rose.