ARAWN
Water splashes over my boots as I cross yet another stream in the southern quarter. Part of me wishes that I had taken Hector, but this would not have served my purpose. Today, I desire stealth over speed and dry feet. Our meat stores are depleting quickly, so I decided to break from my research and go hunting.
The research...it has proved to be absolutely fruitless. In every fairy tale I read, the spells are broken by true love or a kiss and Kalista has made it clear that it's not as simple as that. But the worst part is that Kalista continues to insist that I leave; it is like she does not want me to look for an answer. Because I will not find one, or because she has given up? No, she wants to be free. She may not know what to do once she is released, but she does desire liberty. Maybe I should leave, just to see what happens, and I will return after a few days. But this is magic. I have no way of knowing if there will be consequences for departing.
A flash of brown between the green leaves snaps me from my musings and I nock an arrow. My feet easily navigate the forest floor, avoiding twigs and dried leaves, and draw me nearer to my prey. There is another movement and I crouch low to the ground and shuffle forward. The creature is in a small glade. Perfect. It will grant me a clear shot. I pause behind a bush and adjust my grip on the bow so that I am ready to fire. When I feel confident, I slowly rise and focus on the...
A man.
He sits on a boulder beside a stream. There is sweat on his brow and he drags long, slender fingers through his dark hair. I glance over his body in search of any indication of who he is, but his clothing is that of a commoner. There is nothing remarkable about him. Yet, I will not take any chances. He could very well be here in an attempt to murder Kalista. To murder the beast. That will surely not happen while I am on watch.
Quietly, I emerge from the trees and approach the man. His back is turned to me and his mind is too occupied to notice the soft footsteps behind him. So not a forester or a soldier, for anyone with a little experience would not keep his back turned for so long in an unfamiliar place.
A mere three feet away from the stranger, I stop and pull the fletching back till it tickles my ear. As I intended, the man hears this movement and whips about. His blue eyes go wide with terror and his hands lift in surrender. He is not a young man; he must be near to forty judging by the streaks of grey scattered through his hair and the wrinkles etched around his eyes. Yet, he possesses a measure of refinement that marks him as one who earns his bread through a trade which requires attention to detail rather than physical labour. What is a man such as this doing in the enchanted forest?
"Who are you?" He breathes, taking in the sharpness of the arrowhead and my fierce expression.
"I don't think you are in a position to ask that," I reply through clenched teeth.
"Y-yes, you are correct. My name is Tauren." My spine instantly stiffens and if I had been wary before, I am all the more so now.
Tauren continues, "I am looking for a palace."
"Why?" I bite out with more aggression than I had intended.
He raises his chin. "That, I will not tell you. Now, sir, who might you be?"
"That is inconsequential."
"Well..." Tauren pauses and once more takes in my appearance. Then recognition suddenly dawns upon his face. "Prince Arawn. So you are alive."
"What do you mean by that?" I demand.
"No more questions. I wish to speak to Kalista." The way he says her name irritates me. It is awkward upon his tongue and accompanied by something similar to fear.
At my silence, he adds, "That is, if you know the way."
Now I find myself rather put off. Who does he think he is to speak to me so? But I bite down upon my irritation and motion forwards. "That way."
"But I just came from that direction," he exclaims.
I scowl at him. "Do you want my help or not? Because I will happily leave you out here till dusk."
He must know the terrors that accompany the night because his mouth snaps shut, and he moves in the direction I command.
Tauren fumbles along in front of me as I give directions. It is clear that he is absolutely hopeless as a forester. How could Kalista tolerate such clumsiness? They likely never went riding together and I doubt she would allow him to help her in the rose gardens.
After all this time, what could he possibly want with Kalista? To betray her? I do not know, but I do not trust him. There is something akin to fear in his eyes and fear will drive a man to reckless acts of desperation.
Once again, Tauren stumbles over a root and reflexively, I catch his arm. Flustered, he regains his balance and continues marching onward. In the wrong direction.
"Sir, you will not come to the palace that way," I call and point to my right. "This way."
He stops and spins about. "But if we go that way, we'll have gone in a circle."
I arch an eyebrow and give him the commanding look of a king. "This is an enchanted forest—it doesn't work the same way as other forests. Like I said before, you may come with me, or you may wait for other, less agreeable beings to find you."
He curses under his breath but does as I say and in a short while, the trees thin and give way to the meadow. As we wade through the tall grass, I cannot help but wonder how Kalista will react to his appearance. Joy? Hurt at his abandoning her? I cannot say, but I do wish he had not come here.
KALISTA
Another rebellious shoot hangs across the path and I use my pruning shears to remove the branch. It bears no buds and will only steal the nutrients from the rest of the plant. Over the past weeks, my rose garden has grown wilder and wilder. It does not matter how much time I spend with it; I do not seem to be able to tame it back to its former glory. Yet, the roses are still blooming and that is what matters most. Despite the rambling branches and thorns, beauty can still be found.
"Kalista?"
I turn to find Arawn striding toward me. There is an expression of irritation and worry burning upon his features. What is the matter with him? I thought he was out hunting?
"Are you alright?" I ask, tucking the sheers into the pocket of my apron.
"No. Yes, I am fine," he huffs. "It's just that I found someone in the forest."
"What do you mean?"
"Well... Tauren is here."
His words fall like a raindrop in a forest pool that sends waves across its surface. Tauren. Here.
"Why?" I breathe as my mind spins with the news. After all this time, he returned. He never forgot about me.
"He wouldn't tell me. He only wanted to speak to you."
I nod numbly and mechanically remove my gardening apron. "Where is he?"
"On the front drive."
"Alright, tell him I will be there shortly," I say, already ascending the terrace steps.
"Kalista?"
I pause and half turn.
"Will you be alright?" Arawn asks worriedly.
"I-I think so. I'm not sure really—I don't know what to think."
"I will be nearby the entire time. You needn't worry." He reassures firmly.
"Thank you," I whisper, then ascend into the palace.
Tauren the great composer and pianist. I remember when he first came. He was different because he did not come out of revenge like most others; no, he came spurred by a sliver of curiosity and a mountain of desperation.
His father had thrown him out because Tauren wished to pursue music rather than work as a shoemaker with his father. He peddled as a travelling musician for a scant few weeks, then he was out of money and no one wished to hire a pianist who looked like a beggar. Unwilling to return to his father and announce that he failed, he wandered to the enchanted forest. His mother had been incredibly superstitious, so part of him believed in the magical creature which lived within the forest. And he was a romantic. Of course, he hoped that he would stumble upon a sleeping princess or perhaps even the eternal songbird.
But he found me; dark, brooding, and temperamental Kalista. Well, he didn't mind too much because I had the most glorious piano and I would let him play it for hours at a time. I encouraged him greatly to work on original compositions and he did so faithfully. It was during this time that he flourished as a musician; it was his greatest moment and it was his last great moment. Finally, I decided it was time he choose between his music and me. So I let him go. Sometimes I watched him in the mirror as he performed his pieces before large crowds. However, after he left my palace, he never composed another note of music. Then he met a singer. She was a beautiful woman with locks the colour of wheat and eyes as blue as a robin's egg.
I have not asked the mirror to show him to me since.
A short while after Arawn's announcement, I step into the atrium wearing my usual black gown and with my hair neatly arranged in a waterfall behind my head. I must appear composed—he cannot think that he can walk all over me.
With a deep breath, I push the great double doors open and step outside. I see Arawn first, leaning against a cracked marble pillar. Then I see Tauren. He is sitting upon the steps but rises at my exit. I thought perhaps I would be thrilled to see him and perhaps I am a little, but wariness tugs persistently.
"Kalista, it is good to see you." He smiles broadly at me. "You have not changed at all." But he has changed. He is older—there is a hint of grey in his hair and wrinkles collect in the corners of his eyes. But the worst of it is that only embers of his once-burning passion still blaze in his eyes. There used to be a fire there that would spring to life at the first sounds of music. I loved that passion. I never grew tired of him sitting at my piano and spinning lovely melodies. Where did that man go?
I give a small inclination of my head to acknowledge his words and descend the steps toward him. When I am standing on the pebble drive, I say, "Hello, Tauren. I did not think I would see you again."
He pulls upon his waistcoat. "Yes, well, things change."
"Walk with me." I motion toward the pebble path which leads to the gardens. Momentarily, I glance at Arawn. His expression is stony, and he stares daggers into Tauren's back. My sweet prince is peeved at the presence of another man; a man I once imagined myself to love. Discreetly, I shake my head at him. He must not follow. He nods stiffly, but I know he hates that he has to stay behind.
Tauren and I walk till we are out of earshot, then he states simply, "Prince Arawn."
"Yes, Prince Arawn. He is a noble man and will be a great king," I reply almost defensively.
"No doubt he will."
There is silence for a moment, then I speak again, "How are you, Tauren?"
"Quite well actually. I moved to Ventura and started my own business and have become a successful shoemaker." He assumes a false air of confidence. My mother was queen of false airs and Tauren's paltry efforts do not deceive me.
"But your music."
"My music never would have brought me success," he scoffs.
"You said that didn't matter. It was the music that mattered."
"Well, this is the way it is now. It is better this way."
Who is this stranger that walks beside me? I do not believe I have ever met him before. "So why are you here? Surely not sentimental reasons." My voice carries a bite to it that reflects the hurt I feel.
"An exchange, actually."
I laugh humorlessly. "What could I possibly want from you?"
"Information. You do care for your prince, don't you? He certainly seems to care for you."
My breath catches, but I fight to keep my mask in place. "But what do you want?"
"I have need of magic." He reaches for a rose, but he does not look for thorns and hurriedly pulls his hand back. There is a dot of blood on the pad of his index finger.
"I am not in the habit of freely giving out magic."
"No, but I think you will give it to me."
"Why? Tell me," I command, stopping and facing him. Anger is evident upon my features now but let him see it—let him be afraid.
"No, no. Not so quickly. First the spell and then I will tell you."
"Oh, come now. I would not stoop that low. Tell me, or you can forget about your petty spell." My fingers tremble with fury, but I hide them between the folds of my dress.
Fear wavers through his words. "Alright. It is like this. Queen Sophia sent a letter to King Stefan telling him that his son is imprisoned in the enchanted forest and that she has sent a company of fifty men to save him. They will be here within four days. My neighbour told me, he works as a page at the castle."
Ice races through my veins and steals the oxygen from my lungs. I turn away from Tauren so he will not see the shock and anxiety. Of course, she would take measures to hinder the curse. We may have broken her hold over the curse, but certainly not over the world.
"If your prince cares for you, he will fight them, and his reputation, his sanity, will be questioned," Tauren says, adding salt to my already aching wound.
I should have known that this would happen. A country does not simply allow their only heir to disappear without attempting to find him. I should have sent Arawn home the minute he confessed his royal status; it would have saved both of us much grief. But then there was that little selfish part of me that kept him here; that refused to let him go. Now, though, I will ensure that he departs, even if it is against his will.
"Kalista?"
I spin about at Tauren's prodding voice. When he sees that he has my attention, he continues. "About the spell."
If I were a lesser sorceress, I would have blasted him right out of the enchanted forest, but I will keep my honour. I am a Vayliese and not some novice hedge witch.
"What do you want?"
"Somehow they know that I was here, the queen's men, and they will not stop harassing me and my family. They are convinced that I know the way to you." He wrings his hands nervously together. "Please, if not for me, then for my wife and my children."
He paints a pretty picture—a distressed husband begging for the wellbeing of his family. I can hardly say no. If he dared to come all this way, braving the enchanted forest and the wrath of the beast, he must love his family. And besides, with her connection to the curse broken, Galinda will be looking for an ulterior way to navigate the forest. I suspect that she is secretly afraid of it and worries that any soldiers she sends will become lost or torn to bits by the wolves. Really, if the soldiers wish to find me, the forest will lead them to me, but she needn't know that. Let her worry.
"So you need something that will make them forget your affiliation with me?" I muse, glancing about myself for an object to which I might tie the spell.
"Yes, that is what I need. I just need them to forget I ever had anything to do with you."
His remark stings, but I ignore it and hold out my hand. "A button from your waistcoat, if you please."
He briefly looks appalled at having to tear apart his waistcoat, but at my expectant expression, he does as I ask. The button pops loose and he drops it in my outstretched palm. The moment it touches my skin, magic envelopes it in an orb of blue. Bringing it near my face, I whisper, "Remember not this place or these times." At my last word, the magic fades and the button returns to its normal brass colour. "When you arrive home, plant this in your garden." I return the button to Tauren and turn away from him.
"What will happen?" Dumbfounded, he hurries after me. No doubt he expected something greater.
"You will see when the time comes," I reply, stiffly striding toward the front of the palace where Arawn is waiting. Once Tauren plants the button, it will sprout and grow into a rose tree, but that is only my personal flare. The spell that is tied to the button seed will cause Tauren and everyone else to forget that he ever knew the beast. I do not wish to see him again and causing him to forget is the easiest way to ensure this.
"What if it doesn't work?" Tauren protests, glancing at the tiny button in disbelief.
"Do not doubt something that you understand nothing of," I snap.
This silences him and we round the palace to where Arawn waits. I move to stand next to Arawn with an expression that says he is so much more to me than you ever were.
Tauren knows he has overstayed his welcome, but still, he hesitates. "How will I find my way?"
"You won't get lost. You will find yourself outside of the forest before dusk," I reply shortly.
He gives a halting bow. "Good day then, Your Highness. Kalista." Then he turns and plods toward the forest.
Silently, Arawn and I watch him go. The relief we feel is mutual and when Tauren has finally disappeared in the trees, we turn and ascend the palace steps.
"What did he want?" Arawn asks, pushing one of the great doors open for me.
"He was in need of a spell," I bite out bitterly.
"A spell? What for?"
I motion irately with my hands. "It does not matter, and I do not want to talk about it."
"Later, then?"
I nod and head to my rooms, leaving Arawn alone in the atrium. Although my rooms have been ravaged by the wolves, I still find sanctuary in them and I am soon frantically pacing back and forth and muttering frustratedly to myself. I feel like a caged animal with nowhere to go. Wherever I turn, I am met by a wall. How can I protect Arawn? Tauren was right, my prince would stand up for me and in the process, would lose the respect of his subjects. And on top of that, I would wager that Galinda plans to eventually kill him. Why not command her soldiers to do it when they come for me? She would be killing two birds with one stone.
No, he cannot be here when they come. I keep urging him to leave and he does not listen to me, so I will have to do this against his will. Besides, it will not matter anymore whether or not he hates me for it; either Galinda's minions will destroy me or the curse will. But it will hurt. Not death—that I accepted long ago. No. It will be deceiving Arawn, then saying goodbye to him.
Unless there is a way to avoid this altogether. In a flurry of desperation and bitterness, I rush to the west tower. Breathing heavily, I emerge into the round, stone room. Upon the little iron table lies the mirror, its glass face shining faintly in the dim light. Beside it, the rose glimmers dully, but I hardly spare it a glance—there are so few petals remaining that I cannot bear to look at it.
Snatching the mirror up, I hold it before my face. "Show me Galinda."
The glass swirls with purple smoke and when it clears, I see her sitting at a vanity. Golden hair spills about her shoulders and she carefully pulls a comb through it even though every strand is already perfect. I hate that perfection—it is deceit. How many have been pulled into her trap by that beauty? How many have been captivated by her enchantment one moment only to find themselves facing death in the next?
"Fight me, Galinda," I say, clenching the mirror's handle in my trembling fingers.
Her hands still mid-stroke and a small smile lifts her pink lips. "Fight you? Why would I do that?" The tone of voice she uses is sweet in a terribly mocking way.
"Let us end this. Now."
She laughs lightly. "It is ending for you. I am quite comfortable here and am happy to leave your eradication to my men. They are, after all, so eager to please me."
"You are a coward. You cursed a child and now you hide behind the iron swords of your army. You are afraid to fight me because you might lose, because I might actually kill you."
Her expression hardens and she becomes very much like a marble statue—every line is symmetrical and perfect, but there is no joy, no life.
She slams the hairbrush onto the vanity and a nearby bottle of perfume shivers in response. "I do not care to hear your complaining, little beast. This game is not only won by brute strength. For years, I have patiently built my empire. Do you honestly think me foolish enough to risk it all because you cannot stand to watch your sweet prince be torn away from you?"
I can feel her magic begin to sever the connection and shout, "One day, Galinda. One day someone will tear you down and it will be a terrible and painful descent."
There is darkness and then I see my reflection; it is a wild and anxious reflection. In all of their portraits, my ancestors always bore themselves with pride and majesty, but I look like a rose that has wilted and been crushed under a gardener's heel.
What now? The only thing that my conversation accomplished was to advance her smugness. So I cannot save myself, but I can save Arawn. Saying goodbye will break my heart, but I know what I must do; it is the honourable thing to do. Yet, there is one thing I have always wished to do with Arawn. Yes, let that be my last goodbye, my final hurrah before the last petal falls. It will take some preparation, though, and a great deal of magic.
At dusk, Arawn finds me sitting on the floor of my bedroom surrounded by an illusion of a restored room. His brows furrow and no doubt he is attempting to discover what connection this has with Tauren, but he does not question it and simply takes my hand and draws me to the library. We spend yet another night before the fire; although, this one is bittersweet. Preparations and fears for the coming days constantly plague my mind and I lie awake for hours, listening to Arawn's breathing and dreading what is to come.
*****
What do you think her plan is? What will she do to protect Arawn?