KALISTA
The flames lick up the fabric and touch the wood beneath. There is a wild thrashing within the cage as the wolf attempts to flee, but it is impossible. The fire eats up the wood so that the wolf is completely encompassed by flame. Through the red and orange tongues, I can see a distorted view of the creature. It madly turns about, but suddenly stops and turns toward me. Even through the fire, I can see its rage. Lowering to its haunches, it winds its muscles and springs toward me. The moment it touches the fire, it bursts into a cloud of ashes. These black particles hang in the air for a breath, then explode.
A green light accompanied by a sharp wind shoots from the pyre and flies toward us. It knocks me from my feet, and I land heavily on the ground. But I quickly scramble to sit up so I might see the path of this magical gust. It races toward the palace and I fear that it will level the building, but it passes through the stone and continues its track to the border of the forest. Only moments later, there is a loud snap like a bolt of thunder, and above us, green light flashes then disappears.
"What does it mean?" Arawn whispers. I wonder the same. Did it work? Were we successful? There is one way to find out.
I gather my black gown in my fists and hurry down the pebble drive. "Cedric, bring me the mirror."
As I step over the entrance to the palace, the mirror comes whirling down the staircase. I reach for it and hold it before my face. Arawn is beside me, looking over my shoulder at the glassy surface.
"Show me Galinda," I command, and the mirror blurs. When it clears, I see chaos. It is the room in which Galinda had sat in before, but it is now in turmoil. Tapestries litter the floor, the throne is on its side, shattered glass sparkles, and spilled wine pools across the floor like blood. Or is it blood? I am not sure I want to know. In the center of it all, Galinda rages like a wild lion. Her blonde hair lies in a tangled mess on her back, her eyes are bloodshot, her face wrinkled, and the grey fabric of her dress is stained red on her left shoulder. My arrow struck true last night.
Suddenly, she spins to look at us. "You will regret this. I will make you suffer till you are begging me for mercy," she screams and spittle flies with each word.
"You do not have power over me anymore," I say, then turn the mirror facedown and hand it to Cedric.
A grin spreads across Arawn lips. "We won. Didn't we?"
"Yes, we won." I smile with pure, delicious joy and throw my arms around Arawn's neck. He lifts me off my feet and spins me about in circles. I laugh and it is a good and free feeling—I cannot remember the last time I felt so light.
Arawn sets me down and says, "We must celebrate. Cedric, bring us cakes and tarts."
"And some wine," I add.
"Sweets and wine? A strange combination for breakfast." Arawn laughs and slips his arm about my waist. We ascend to the library where we settle in two tapestry chairs and discuss the details of our success. Victory tastes sweet and we are both drunk with it. If we defeated her once, perhaps we can do it again. Our hope is stronger than it has ever been before. Is that dangerous? I wish only to revel a little while.
"My lady," Cedric says, announcing his arrival. He sets a tray with a bottle of wine and a plate of chocolates on the round table between Arawn and I. While Cedric pours the wine, I pick up a chocolate and place it in my mouth. The sweet treat melts upon my tongue and fills my mouth with its luscious flavour. Arawn reaches for his glass of wine, but I close my eyes, savouring the sweetness and remembering when my brothers used to sneak me chocolates. They would come to visit me and the moment my nanny turned the other way, they would pass me a little box of chocolates. It was a game to them and besides, they loved doting on their youngest sister.
Without warning, Arawn spews his wine out and curses. Startled, my eyes fly open and I jump from my seat.
"What is the matter with you?" I demand, glaring at Arawn.
"What is the matter with me?" He exclaims. "What is the matter with the wine? It has gone sour. Here." He holds out my wine glass. "Try it."
Tentatively, I take the glass from him and stare at the liquid within. It is dark red with perhaps a hint of brown. Leaning closer, I inhale the scent—it is definitely off.
"It has gone bad." I set the glass upon the tray and suddenly my appetite disappears. Yes, we defeated Galinda this once, but the curse is still running toward its end.
Frustrated, Arawn stands and runs a hand over his eyes. "Let's first sleep. We're both exhausted. Then we'll take a look at the rest of the food." He pauses, then asks, "Is that how the curse is to end? By starving you?"
I wrap my arms about my torso. "No, that's not how it ends." Even to the end, there will be a few crumbs left, but that does not mean the food situation will be pleasant. No, she meant this to be as miserable as possible.
Arawn leaves it at that and moves to stand next to me. "Come, let's find our beds."
I nod numbly and we leave the library, then go our separate ways. Although I am sure that after all the tumult of the past few days sleep will evade me, as soon as I lay my head on the pillow, sweet slumber falls upon me.
ARAWN
When I wake, I first visit Hector and Abraxas. It has been a few days since I have done more than bring them a few carrots and give their forelocks a quick scratch. It is strange, I used to think simply of visiting Hector, but somehow it feels as if I have adopted Abraxas as well. They are brothers now. When they are out in the pasture together, they rarely leave each other's side. They will be devastated if they are ever separated.
After taking them for a walk through the gardens, I return to the palace to find Kalista. She is in a small sitting room—compared to the immensity of the other rooms—in the west wing. A breakfast tray is at her elbow, but it is untouched, and she stares fixedly out the window.
"What are you thinking about?" I ask, moving to stand behind her. Today her gown has a faint pattern upon its fabric in dark purple, not black. This must be the first time I have not seen her wearing an entirely black gown. Is it a coincidence or did she do it intentionally?
"The world beyond. It has been so long; I wonder if I will recognize it."
"Perhaps clothing and language and customs have changed, but in a way, the people are still the same. They still feel love and hate, joy and sadness; there is still new life and death."
A soft, small smile lifts her lips and she looks up at me.
I hold out my hand to her. "Come, we have food stores to investigate."
She slips her hand in mine and we descend to the kitchen. It is a cavernous room with stone walls, a brick oven so large I could stand up within it, and a long oak table in its center. Pots and pans faded from age hang upon one wall and another wall sports shelves lined with all sorts of jars and containers.
"Janine? Janine, where are you?" Kalista calls. Her voice echoes off the stone, but there is no reply. She frowns and motions to a doorway on our right. "The pantry is through here."
We are about to enter when a woman's voice approaches. "My lady? Oh, greatest apologies. I must have fallen asleep. I was just..." a yawn interrupts her "...so tired."
I expect Kalista to respond with indignant silence, but instead, her voice is gentle. "It is alright, Janine. We have only come to look at the food stores."
"Ah, yes. Of course." A wooden spoon suddenly appears and floats past us. "Just this way." Janine leads us through the doorway. In this room, the walls are lined with shelves and there is a small flight of stairs that must lead to the cellar.
Kalista looks about, then asks, "How bad is it, Janine?"
The spoon fidgets as if the woman is passing it between her hands. "Tis not good m'lady. This room used to replenish itself—it was never empty. But now, the sugar is half empty." She holds out a ceramic pot and shows it to us.
"And things are going rancid?" Kalista asks, moving forward to the cellar.
"Lady, don't go down there," Janine warns and Kalista stops. "Most of it is spoiled. I'll get the boys and we can go through it."
Kalista nods. "Alright. What is left in here?"
Janine moves about and opens lids to show us their contents. "Flour, oats, sugar, molasses."
"And what do you suppose is left in the cellar?" I ask.
"The wine and brandy are gone or spoiled, most of the meat is rancid. There are only a few eggs and slabs of butter left. There are various fruits and vegetables, but they are spoiling quickly."
I look to Kalista. "Is there a way to stop the banquet that appears every night?"
"Yes, I can stop it."
"Good. Then we can manually go through the food and eat what will spoil first. We could dry what's left of the meat and perhaps some of the vegetables."
Kalista clenches her jaw. "Just tell me what to do." She is putting me in charge of this, allowing me to lead. There have been other times when she allowed me to lead with her, but now she is giving me full freedom and is agreeing to follow behind.
Taking a breath, I look at Kalista and the wooden spoon. "Janine, find Johnathan and Matthew, if you can, and remove anything that has spoiled. Kalista, if you can dig a hole with your magic, then we can bury what has gone bad and we don't have to worry about it affecting the other food."
We set to work and within a few hours, we have organized our food stores and taken account of what we have left. It is a fair amount, but Kalista tells me that it is not enough to last us till the end of the curse. What will we do? Perhaps if I travel to the outskirts of the forest, I might find some wildlife to hunt. It is worth trying. We also direct Janine not to cook us anything fancy anymore. We will eat simply if it means conserving the food.
Kalista does not wish to sit at the empty dining table, so we take our bowls of potato soup to the library. We are quiet for a while, but as usual, questions burn in me. Finally, I ask, "Janine said she was asleep. I thought the servants did not need to eat or sleep."
There is a pause, a moment of hesitation, then Kalista says, "No, they are not like us. They are like ghosts, neither eating nor sleeping."
"But she said she was asleep." I press cautiously.
Kalista looks down at her hands and sighs. "It is because the curse is waning. It has been happening to all of the servants."
I give her a questioning expression and she continues. "All of the servants that worked for my family possessed magic. In some, it was barely noticeable, while others could work spells. The servants with the least magic fell asleep first. One day they were bustling about and the next, they were gone. Often, they would fall asleep for a while and wake up again for a few days, but eventually, they disappeared completely. It will happen to the others too—Janine and Cedric and Pierre and the boys and Beedy."
"Do they die when they fall asleep?"
"No, they simply sleep. If the curse is broken, they will be returned to the world. They may remember what happened, or they may not and will simply step into a new life that they believe they have inhabited since birth."
"And you? What will happen to you?"
Her voice is a mere whisper. "I will fall asleep too, but I will never wake."
She will be dead. Of course, she will. No other outcome would satisfy her perpetrator. How must she feel knowing that her death is racing toward her? Helpless? Angry? Resigned to her fate? Perhaps a combination of all three.
Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees. "You truly cannot tell me how to break the curse? Even a hint?"
She shakes her head. "No, Arawn." With a sigh, she pushes herself to her feet. "Perhaps it would be best if you left."
"I can't do that. I will find a way to break the curse."
Her dark eyes sadden, and wistfulness twists her lips. "Why do you have to be so stubborn?" Then she turns about and leaves me alone.
Stubborn? No, I am determined. I will find a way to break the curse.
Frustration tingles through my fingers as I sling the longbow over my shoulders and head toward the palace gardens. I saw Kalista sitting on the terrace with an easel and canvas; perhaps she will be able to calm my irritation.
Since sunrise, I have been scouring the southern quarter of the forest for wildlife. The worst part was that I could hear them—birds, rodents, and even the occasional grunt of a deer. But I never saw them.
Kalista sits on a wrought iron chair with a paintbrush in hand. Silently, I sit on the opposite side of the white table. Her painting is of a yellow rose in its prime glory and I am painfully reminded of when I used such a rose to deceive her. The man I was then is a stranger to me now. My eyes have been opened and the blindness that was my prejudice has disappeared.
"No luck?" Kalista asks, filling in the green of a leaf.
"Why do you say that like it doesn't surprise you?"
"Because it doesn't. You're still allowing the forest to play with you. Eventually, you will see the creatures, but they are intelligent and more familiar with the forest than you are."
I grunt at this. I don't like that my failure was a result of my incompetence as a hunter. Wanting a distraction, I motion to a sketchbook lying on the table. "May I?"
Kalista nods distractedly. She is too caught up in her painting to pay me much heed.
I open the leather cover and turn to the first page. It is a charcoal drawing of Abraxas. He stands nobly and his intelligent eyes gaze forward. There is love in each line, each mark upon the page, and it causes the depiction to come alive. The next picture is of a bouquet of roses and the next is of a watch whose hands point to ten till four—Cedric's watch.
Near the middle of the book, I turn to a page on which a piano is depicted, but tucked in front of it is a piece of paper. Pulling it out, I unfold it and am greeted by a page of music. There is no title, but on the back, a note is scrawled in looping handwriting.
To Kalista.
May your songs echo in the heavens so that when I look to the stars, I will hear them singing.
Tauren
The 12th year of the reign of King Marnix of Orillia
"The 12th year of the reign of King Marnix," I read aloud, then add incredulously, "That was only ten years ago."
Kalista's head snaps up and her invisible hands of magic slap the book shut and return it to its place on the table.
"Who's Tauren?" I demand.
Her eyes harden, but she calmly rinses her brush off in a pot of water and lays it upon the easel. "He was a friend."
"A friend? What do you mean?"
"Do you honestly think that you are the only one who has ever wandered this far?" She turns her icy stare toward me. Once, it would have frightened me, but now I know that this expression is only a way to hide her true feelings. She is afraid or wounded. Perhaps this name is attached to painful memories.
"So where are the others?"
"I let them go."
"Why? Why didn't one of them break the curse?" Perhaps there will be a clue here. What didn't they do?
"They wanted to see a beast, so that was what they saw. Either they were lost and terrified or, like you, they came to kill me. So, I let them go."
"What about, Tauren? How was he different?"
"He was a musician and a kind man, and I thought he really cared about me. But his father became ill, so I let him return home." She looks away and stares out into the distance. "I discovered that he loved his music more than he loved me. He never came back."
There is a cavern of silence, but finally, I ask, "Why didn't you send me home?"
"Desperation. I almost sent you home after you stabbed me, but then things changed, and I decided to wait a little longer. Now I can't get rid of you." She tries to laugh, but it comes out forced and unnatural. Standing, she smooths the wrinkles from her plain gardening gown. "Will you help me with the roses?"
"Of course."
While I help her with the roses, her words circle in my mind. I discovered that he loved his music more than he loved me. Is the answer hidden in there or is it impossible for her to even mention it indirectly?
After dinner, we head to the library and I begin my research. As I read, I occasionally catch Kalista staring at me over her book with an unreadable expression. If only I knew what she was thinking, it would make things so much simpler—emotionally and magically. At times she frustrates me so much I want to knock my head against the wall, but at other times, she makes me feel happy and at peace. She can be so stubborn and distrustful sometimes, but then we ride through the forest together or discuss a book and it is like my irritation never existed. And when she is not nearby, I find that I miss her presence. It is a strange and bizarre feeling and one that perhaps bears a slight similarity to how I feel toward my family. But she is not my family. So, what is she to me?
These musings ruthlessly distract me from my task and eventually, I give up and persuade Kalista to tell me the story of her great-aunt Veralisa, the Snow Queen.