A Tale of Two Princesses (34 page)

     Court looked back at Wellington. "I think we'll be all right without it, Wellington. I will honor my fellow knights by taking up the sword tomorrow and searching for that dragon once again, and never shall I cease until it is found."

     Wellington swallowed, and then he secured the sword to his own belt. "Very well, your highness."

     "If there is nothing further," Celeste said, "I would like to be alone with my fiancé for the few more moments we have left before our eternal union."

     "I will see you at the altar, Wellington," Court said.

     "Of course," Wellington said, bowing his head. "Please excuse me."

     He turned to the door, opening it, but immediately took a step back, finding Vrine waiting.

     "Madam Vrine."

     "Wellington, there you are," Vrine said. "I was told you were coming up to see the prince and the queen."

     "Yes, I needed to speak to them."

     "Are you finished?" Vrine asked.

     "I am."

     "Then I will escort you to the wedding venue, for as the maid-of-honor, I shall be on your arm. Please, this way."

     Vrine bowed to the queen and prince before turning to leave. Wellington followed her, staying at her side as she moved through the corridor. The tension was deep in his stomach, warning him to take action, to do something.

     "Pardon me, Madam Vrine," Wellington said, "but if I may, I would like to speak to you alone about something."

     "Regarding?"

     "I spoke to Sienna, the stable girl who admitted to the most heinous act of slaying the queen."

     "Did you?"

     "Yes. And she said something peculiar to me."

     "Go on?"

     "Well, her words were rather sensitive. May I speak to you in private?"

     She stopped there in the corridor, glancing at the soldiers around her. Wellington held his chin up high. If she called for them, he would have to draw this sword here and now.

     "Very well," Vrine said. "Come with me to my chambers."

     "Excellent," he said.

     He followed her through another hallway. She reached a door requiring a key, which she used, leading him in. He stopped the moment he was through. The chambers were dark, with shelves and shelves of jars, some having animal heads, others with animal limbs, many with liquids that he could not fathom. In the center of the room was a great cauldron, glowing green. Vrine closed the door, locking it, and then she circled around him, stepping behind the cauldron, a mirror behind her back that stretched to the ceiling. Wellington could see his reflection over her shoulder.

     "Now," she said, looking at him, "what did you learn from the stable girl?"

     Wellington was breathing heavier. How was he to proceed? Should he draw on her, demand answers? Or should he try to talk his way through? Was this woman truly a witch? Could she really control a dragon?

     "She said, and I found it unbelievable, perhaps even untrue, that you were a witch, that you could control a dragon, that you might call for it to slay the prince."

     Vrine smirked. "Go on."

     "And she revealed to me that she impersonated Princess Celeste during the masquerade ball, and that she did not kill the queen, that Princess Celeste herself did that."

     "Is that all?"

     "Actually—"

     Vrine acted first. She grasped a vial of powder on the shelf nearest to her, throwing it down on the ground at Wellington's feet. Wellington was startled as it burst into green dust. His hand came to the pommel of the sword at his side, taking one step forward. Vrine's hands were already in the air.

     "Vine, vine, grow and grow, and bind about the limbs of thy foe!"

     The green dust turned to vines, slithering and wrapping around his legs, tripping him, spreading up his body, wrapping around his chest and pinning his arms to his side, the sword clutched in his hand. He struggled to lift his head. Vrine came around the cauldron, looking down on him.

     "You foolish, little man. Did you really think you could challenge Sorceress Vrine?"

     "The thought had crossed my mind," Wellington said.

     She laughed, and then she picked up a few golden hairs from the shelf, tossing them into her cauldron. She dipped a ladle into the bubbling liquid, coming away with a scoop. Wellington had no idea what she intended to do with it. He was terrified she was going to pour it on him, but then she splashed it on the great mirror, the liquid running down.

     "Mirror, mirror, reveal to me the one I seek,

     "The face of the king's child, her spirit, oh, so meek."

     Within the splashed liquid, an image appeared, the image of Sienna being led to the gallows. Vrine turned her head, smirking at him.

     "Now, watch as the prince's precious little stable girl is hung until she is dead, and as you watch, quiver to know you will follow, and the prince will be on your heels this very night!"

Chapter Twenty-Two

A Wedding to Remember

     "Where on earth is Wellington?" Court mumbled, looking to the doors of the castle church. A great stained-glass window filled the entire wall behind the altar. White pillars rose to the vaulted ceilings so very far overhead. Pews stretched before him, going on and on, all filled with guests, guests he did not even know, nobles from all over the kingdom.

     "Your highness," the priest whispered. "Your best man remains absent. We cannot wait any longer. The queen is waiting."

     Court took a deep breath and nodded. "Begin."

     The priest bowed his head and then motioned to the orchestra. The music began to play. Court straightened his back, looking down the long aisle, waiting for his bride to appear. He smiled when he saw her. She had a white veil on now, taking a slow walk down the aisle, no one to escort her. Many had offered, but she wished to walk herself, honoring her departed father.

     The walk was long in the huge church, the music cycling over the same notes, but at last, she climbed the altar steps and turned to meet him, handing her flowers to a girl nearby. And then the veil was lifted off her head, revealing her crown. The music came down and the priest spoke up.

     "We gather here today to celebrate the union of our beloved queen and her prince. The bond of love is the most powerful force on earth, symbolized by the union of marriage. With this bond of love, our queen will present to us today a king we can follow. Let us commence the ceremony."

* * *

     Sienna's leg had begun to bleed again. She did not care though. She would feel nothing soon enough. The crowd was loud in the town, cheering and screaming, throwing vegetables at the carriage. Sienna was so hungry she bit into a rotten tomato. The other prisoners, even Homa, seemed to borrow the idea. The crowd soon changed their weapons to stones and the prisoners huddled together to shield themselves.

     And then the gate to the carriage opened and she was pulled out, tripping to the ground, the other prisoners yanked along by the chain connecting them. The people were throwing things again, focusing only on her. Those nearby were spitting.

     And then Sienna saw it, the gallows, a long tier made of wood, with an arch set above the floor. There were ten nooses, just enough to kill them all. She had hoped there might only be nine. A rock hit her in the face, making her stumble on her bad leg, but Homa picked her up.

     "I'm here, child."

     "Come on, come on!" a guard said, nudging Sienna with his spear.

     Sienna looked around. There were soldiers everywhere, forming a barrier to keep the crowd at bay, all with spears. There had to be at least fifty of them. Did they need so many guards for ten chained prisoners?

     And then she saw her uncle in the crowd, standing beside Mrs. Crockery, both of them shaking their heads in disapproval. Truthfully, she had begun to entertain the idea of her poor uncle saving her, shooting an arrow through the rope at the last moment or, or secretly dressing as the executioner.

     The executioner. She saw him next, waiting up on the tier, a black robe all about his person. Sienna was shaking, trembling all over. She had stopped walking.

     "Be brave, child," Homa whispered. "Don't let them have the satisfaction."

     Sienna glanced over her shoulder. The satisfaction? The satisfaction of what, knowing she was scared to die? They could have the satisfaction, and she prayed the satisfaction would turn to pity and somehow, someway, they would not do this. She began to cry.

     "Please, no," she whimpered.

     "Move it!" a soldier shouted, jabbing her with the end of his spear. "Climb the stairs! Move!"

     She was shaking her head. She couldn't do it. Never, not to that executioner.

     "Please..."

     "Be strong, child," Homa repeated, putting her hands on her shoulders, leading her forward.

     Sienna looked down as her feet hit the wooden stairs. "I can't do it. I can't. Oh, God, no. No. No. Court, where are you? Court! Court, save me! Court!"

     A guard grabbed Sienna's hair and pulled her up the stairs. She cried out as she stumbled, falling to her knees. The crowd cheered. She was pulled all the way to the first noose, the rope hanging there in midair, the wind taking it from side to side. Her eyes were down, everything blurry around her, but she could still see the breaks in the floor, could hear the sound of the wood creaking, the wood that would fall away and take her to her death. Sienna was sobbing now, screaming.

     "Please! I don't want to die! Court! Please!"

     One by one, the soldiers removed the shackles holding the prisoners. Their arms were re-secured behind their backs, this time with rope. Sienna pulled against them, but then they stood her up straight and the noose was slipped around her neck. She shrieked.

     "God, save me! I'm innocent! I didn't kill the queen! I didn't kill her! Someone, please! Court, help me!"

     "Sienna," Homa urged. "Be strong, child! It will be quick!"

     Sienna wept as the soldiers stepped away, leaving her alone, the platform beneath her feet waiting to open up and swallow her, the noose already so tight around her neck it hurt to breathe. She tried to step away but there was no slack to move.

     And then the executioner walked past, his eyes blue behind his black mask, moving down the line of prisoners, one by one looking at them. The crowd was growing quiet, watching, waiting for the finale.

     "Prisoners!" the executioner called. "Each of you is entitled to your last words! Say them now! You there, start!"

     The first man on the end snarled at the crowd. "I ain't sorry! Rot in hell!"

     The second was a woman. "Please, he beat me! I was defending myself! Take pity!"

     The third, another man said, "I robbed the coach, but I didn't kill the driver! I shouldn't be here!"

     The fourth spoke up. "She was sweet."

     The fifth, a woman said, "My family was starving! Please, someone give me another chance!"

     The sixth took his turn. "The lord forgives you."

     The seventh was quiet. He shook his head, saying nothing.

     The eighth spit at the crowd. "Who's worse, me for killin' them or you for killin' me?"

     The ninth, Homa cleared her throat and said, "Long live the king! And if he does not, believe it was the queen who took his life!"

     Tenth, Sienna looked at the crowd. She lifted her eyes past them, up to the sunset. Dark clouds filled the sky, rumbling to bring the rain, running to her, lightning flashing. She cried out, "Court, I love you!"

     And then the executioner pulled the lever and the floor dropped out from under her.

* * *

     "And now," the priest said, "the vows, prepared by the bride and groom. Queen Celeste, if you please."

     Celeste took out a small piece of paper, reading from it like a dictionary. "Court, you are the finest man I have ever met, and I am honored to be marrying you. We haven't known each other long, but in the time we've been together, I have met my best friend. I came to know that I fell in love with you the moment you kissed me in the courtyard. That was our moment, a moment I shall not ever forget, for it was the moment our love was created. You may not have been my first kiss, but you shall forever be my last."

     Court's smile began to fade, sinking down his face, his eyes narrowing. The crowd was applauding and awing. Celeste gave them a grin, bowing her head. When she looked back at Court, she seemed to notice something was amiss in his eyes.

     "Prince Cross," the priest said, "your vows, if you please."

     Court did not need a piece of paper. He recited from memory, glaring at her as he spoke. "Celeste, before I met you, I was worried we would have nothing in common, that I'd be cursed to grow old with a woman I did not love, but then we danced and I found my soul mate, the one person who I have ever loved. I knew it the moment you told me I was your first kiss, and it was my hope that I would forever be the last."

     The crowd grew quiet, murmuring to each other, their applause subdued. Celeste looked away from his eyes, swallowing, hiding a very small smile.

     "The rings," the priest spoke up.

     Celeste took out her ring.

     Court did not. He just stared at her. "Who...who are you?"

     "Prince Cross, your ring," Celeste said. "Priest, continue."

     "Celeste Friora Avelot," the priest said, "do you take this man to be your husband, to love him and cherish him for all time, to serve by his side as his queen?"

     "I do," Celeste said, reaching out, grabbing Court's hand, slipping the ring onto his finger.

     Court looked down at it. Then Celeste's hand lifted, hovering in the air.

     "Court Cornelius Cross," the priest said, "do you take this woman to be your wife, to love her and cherish her for all time, to serve by her side as her king?"