Damsel, page 2
“I’m impressed that you can chart the night sky, given that you’ve never been at sea.”
“I never even thought I’d leave Inophe.”
“No?” Lieutenant Ravella cocked her head. “Then why learn to navigate by the stars or study the languages of those who came to your harbor, if not for plans to travel the world? Most people don’t learn the intricacies of grammar and syntax without a greater goal in mind.”
Elodie shifted her feet uncomfortably on the deck. It felt like a betrayal of Inophe to have ever wanted something more than her life there. And yet, Lieutenant Ravella was right. Elodie may have started out studying the languages of the traders in order to better run Inophe’s harbor, but at some point, she’d begun learning for herself, too.
“I love Inophe and would do anything for my people, even if that meant never leaving its shores,” she said. “But I must admit I have dreamed of experiencing the sailors’ tales for myself someday. And thanks to you, I can now do my duty to my country and expand the boundaries of what I thought my life would be.”
The lieutenant winced. Or so it seemed, but then the expression was gone, replaced by a distant smile, the type Elodie knew well from merchant ship traders when they didn’t agree to her terms but were thinking about how to pivot the conversation.
Or perhaps it was Elodie who had committed some social faux pas. That was as likely as any other explanation. “Forgive me if I said something that offended you. It was not my intention but sometimes I, um—”
Lieutenant Ravella shook her head. “No, my lady. I suppose I was only thinking of the obligations that await you as princess.” The envoy’s expression remained formal, a marked change from the easy conversation they’d had for most of their time at sea.
“I understand duty well,” Elodie said. “Please do not worry about that on my behalf. I assure you that whatever Aurea expects of me as their princess, I shall deliver. As long as it’s not charming speeches.”
But her attempt at levity fell flat.
“Of course, my lady,” Lieutenant Ravella said with another tight smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I just remembered something I need to attend to before we make landfall.” She bowed quickly and hurried belowdecks to the cabins.
Elodie sighed. Once she arrived on Aurea, she should probably say as little as possible. At least until the wedding was official. That way Prince Henry wouldn’t change his mind and instead decide to find a wife who could actually speak without tripping over her own tongue.
A minute later, Floria burst onto the deck from the cabins below. At thirteen, she was all black braids and unrestrained exuberance, bounding to Elodie. “I solved the maze you made me!” she shouted, waving the piece of paper Elodie had given her just that morning. “Those decoy exits didn’t fool me.”
Elodie plucked the maze from her sister’s hand to check her work. Floria had, indeed, found the correct path out of the ship-shaped maze.
Their stepmother, Lady Lucinda Bayford, laced up tightly in a gray wool kirtle with a high neck, ascended from below and joined them on deck. She was the type of woman who was beautiful in a bronze statue kind of way, and with the personality of a statue, too—dignified and polished, but inflexible.
“Is this horrid odyssey almost over?” she said. “We have been on this ship for sixty-three days, and I am damp to my bones.”
“My dear,” Lord Bayford called as he climbed up the stairs. “I brought you your extra cloak.” He emerged on deck and wrapped her in a thick silver cape lined with the fur of sand foxes.
“We are all going to catch our death before we make it to Aurea,” Lady Bayford grumbled.
Suddenly, a beam of moonlight cut through the fog. Elodie gasped as she caught sight of the stars. “Merdú!”
Lady Bayford flinched at yet another of the “uncouth” phrases Elodie had picked up from the sailors. But now was not the time to worry about her stepmother’s sensibilities. Because if Elodie’s calculations were correct…
“What is it?” Floria asked.
Elodie didn’t respond, only rushed for the ropes and scurried up the netting.
“Come down immediately!” Lady Bayford shouted. “You can’t swim! You’ll fall and die!”
Elodie wouldn’t fall. She’d been climbing towering eucalyptus trees her entire life.
“And the sailors will see up your skirts!” Lady Bayford added, as if decorum were equally as important as Elodie’s life.
“She is wearing breeches under her chemise,” Floria said.
Elodie laughed. As if that would alleviate the scandal of a woman letting everyone peek up her gown. But that was also not Elodie’s concern right now. What was important was—
“Pari u navio!” she shouted to the sailors as she reached the top of the ropes. “Stop the ship now!”
Old Captain Croat, who’d been lazing behind the wheel, jumped to attention. “You heard the lady!” he snapped at the sailors. “Slow our course!”
The ship creaked as the sails loosened, the canvas luffing in the wind, momentum easing. The moonbeam had disappeared back into the fog, and the ship drifted blindly. The silence on deck was as thick as the mist, all breath held in anticipation of whatever Elodie knew was coming.
And then two looming shadows appeared, silhouettes in the near distance. The sailors craned their necks.
Hungry, razor-toothed jaws towered over them.
“Stone dragons,” Elodie murmured in awe. Lieutenant Ravella had told her about them, the markers of the outer boundaries of Aurea. Dew glistened on the etched scales, topaz eyes glinted in the moonlight that now broke through the fog, and water gushed through the open maws like fountains, sprinkling the ship with droplets of rain.
“Malseùr,” Gaumiot and some of the other sailors whispered, touching their hands to their hearts to protect them from ill luck.
But Elodie smiled. Dragons weren’t real, only fantasy. This was no bad omen. If anything, it was a symbol of the extraordinary to come.
From her place high up on the ropes, she held her arms straight out, and the wind puffed open the long sleeves of her dress. For a brief moment, she felt as if she could fly. Two decades in small Inophe. Two decades wondering what else was out in the world. A lifetime of accepting that she’d only get to hear stories and never experience them for herself.
But now, this…Elodie filled her lungs with briny air. She was doing it. She was saving her people while also soaring high.
Even the most predictable life can gift you with the unexpected.
Captain Croat maneuvered the ship around the stone sentinels.
“I don’t like them.” Lady Bayford shuddered.
“I think they’re beautiful,” Elodie said as she slid down the ropes, back onto the deck.
As soon as the ship sailed between the two dragon statues, the fog burned away completely, and everything that lay before them was softly illuminated like it was dawn, as if this place was so different from the rest of the world that it somehow defied nighttime.
A sapphire lagoon revealed itself, with a verdant island at the center of the horizon. Next to Elodie, Floria’s jaw dropped. “I-is that it? Is that where we’re going?”
On the eastern side, deep green orchards and gentle fields of grain stretched as far as the eye could see. On the western side, a majestic violet-gray mountain reigned, its head crowned by clouds and stars. A golden palace sparkled under the adoring light of the moon.
Lord Bayford wrapped his arms around his two daughters. “Welcome, my doves, to the Isle of Aurea.”
* * *
—
Lieutenant Ravella disembarked first and rode ahead to inform the palace of their arrival. Elodie still wondered why the royal envoy’s demeanor had changed as they neared Aurea, but soon Elodie was distracted because a gold carriage arrived to whisk her and her family from the harbor.
They began their journey into the isle, and Floria held tightly on to Elodie’s hand, squeezing every time something delighted her.
“Look at those orchards,” Floria gushed, pointing at rows and rows of trees laden with the famed Aurean silver pears Henry had mentioned in his letters, and hedgerows of blood-red sangberries, coveted the world over for their juicy sweetness and healing properties. The fruit was so richly colored, it shone like jewels under the preternaturally bright light of the Aurean moon.
“There’s so much…green,” Lady Bayford said, gaping. “How do they have enough water to grow it all?”
“The Isle of Aurea is not parched like our own poor duchy,” Lord Bayford said. “Elodie’s marriage to Prince Henry allows us to cease worrying about drought. With this alliance, the Inophean people will never go hungry again. Our storehouses will be full this winter, and every winter forevermore.” He reached across the carriage and squeezed Elodie’s knee. “Thank you.”
Elodie bit her lip but nodded. Not because she didn’t want to marry Henry—from their correspondence, he seemed like a thoughtful man who enjoyed her intelligence and who would one day be an honorable king. It was actually because she did want to marry him that she felt so unsettled. Elodie had long resigned herself to a hard life on Inophe. But everything about Aurea seemed like a dream—from the prosperity of the beautiful island to Henry’s eagerness to wed her—and Elodie worried it might all disappear if she thought about it too hard. Perhaps she’d wake up and discover it had all been a figment of her imagination.
Besides, why would the future king of Aurea—one of the richest countries in the world—want to marry the daughter of a minor lord from a drought-ridden duchy with no natural resources (other than guano) or military might or other political capital to offer? With this union, Inophe would be guaranteed food and financial support. But what was Aurea getting out of the bargain?
Her father and Lieutenant Ravella had assured her that Aurea was thrilled to have a well-educated lady like Elodie as their future princess, especially one with practical experience in overseeing people and land.
The compliments were flattering, Elodie had to admit, and yet…they still did not add up. She picked at a loose thread on her sleeve. The yellow silk was the nicest fabric ever to touch her skin, and yet it now seemed rough-hewn and dull next to the splendor of Aurea.
“Oooh, look at the little lambs,” Floria cooed as the carriage rolled past pastures dotted with herds of fluffy sheep. Their wool was supposedly softer than any other, and these sheep lived only on Aurea. Another reason for the island’s wealth.
Elodie leaned out the carriage window to admire the lambs. They had big black eyes and cute button noses, like illustrations in a children’s book come to life.
“Can you believe you get to live here?” Floria asked. “It’s incredible, and if anyone deserves to be princess of a paradise, it’s you.”
Lady Bayford snorted. “No one is more worthy than another,” she muttered under her breath.
Elodie fought the urge to roll her eyes. From the moment their stepmother had walked into their lives, Lady Bayford had been insecure about the love Lord Bayford had for his daughters. And how ridiculous! A grown woman, worried about sharing his attentions with two children.
Or maybe it was because Elodie so resembled her mother, and every time Lady Bayford looked at Elodie, she was reminded that Lord Bayford had loved—still loved—another before her.
The carriage wove through villages of windmills and quaint, thatch-roofed cottages where people poked their heads out of windows and bowed as the coach passed. They looked so different from the people on Inophe. Both were suntanned and strong, but the Aureans’ cheeks were filled out from being well nourished, and their easy smiles suggested a life of bounty rather than survival. Elodie waved but couldn’t smile back, for her thoughts were on the Inopheans who had never had the opportunity to be so carefree.
But maybe now they will, she thought. After all, that was the impetus for accepting Prince Henry’s proposal. Elodie’s marriage would ensure the well-being of her people.
For that, she could smile.
As the road wound higher, out of the fertile valley and onto the base of the mountain, the royal palace came into view. Although Elodie had seen the glimmering walls from afar on their ship, the sight of the castle this close was almost too much to behold.
The palace made of pure gold rose from purple-gray granite like a vision from a fairy tale. The castle stood three stories tall with shield-shaped parapets at the top, and seven perfectly cylindrical towers soared above those, each one wrapped in vines of golden roses that scented the air with honeyed perfume. Gold-tasseled crimson banners bearing Aurea’s coat of arms—a dragon clasping what Elodie now knew was a sheaf of aurum wheat in one claw and sangberries in another—hung with dignity around the drawbridge, and flags with the same heraldic bearings fluttered in the warm, gentle breeze.
This place is going to be my home? Elodie thought.
But what she actually said aloud was, “This place must be…quite difficult to keep clean.”
Lady Bayford let out a worried groan. “Please do not say things like that when you meet the royal family.”
As the carriage passed over the drawbridge and into the main courtyard, though, it was Elodie’s turn to frown.
There was no one waiting to greet them.
Elodie looked around, confused. Lieutenant Ravella had ridden well ahead of them. Yet in the middle of the courtyard, a silver fountain of a pear tree burbled, but that was literally the only sound. How could a castle be so silent? And where had Lieutenant Ravella disappeared to?
“Um, is it me or is this a little strange?” Flor asked.
Their father forced a smile onto his face, trying to look as if this was part of the plan. “I am sure they are merely caught off guard. According to Captain Croat’s calculations, we are actually a day early…”
As if on cue, a handful of liveried servants spilled out of the palace and into the courtyard. The castle chamberlain bowed as the breeze carried in the faint hints of a melody in the distance.
“My lord, my ladies, we are honored by your presence in Aurea.”
“You have a lackadaisical way of showing it,” Lady Bayford said as a footman helped her out of the carriage.
The chamberlain hesitated, as if carefully considering his words before answering. “My apologies, my lady. It is just that you, er…you were not expected today.”
Lord Bayford laughed in the gentle manner of his that always set people at ease. The same laugh that had helped Elodie get through the death of her mother, even though her father had been just as distraught at the loss of his wife. “Our ship was favored by an excellent wind,” Lord Bayford said. “I do hope our early arrival is not an inconvenience.”
“Not at all,” the chamberlain said, although something about the way he said it made Elodie uneasy. Perhaps it was the overly fawning way he kept bowing. Or the fact that his smiles never quite reached his eyes.
“Your arrival is no trouble in the slightest,” the chamberlain was saying. “Your rooms are quite ready, if you will follow me.”
Elodie furrowed her brow. “Are we not to be received by the king and queen? And Prince Henry?” Elodie might be a minor aristocrat from a backwater country, but she was also marrying the heir to Aurea.
The chamberlain bowed yet again. “Utmost apologies, but the royal family is at prayer. Word has been sent of your arrival.”
With that, he ushered them into the gold palace. But instead of the main entryway, he led them through a sequence of winding, narrow hallways.
“What are these, servants’ corridors?” Lady Bayford’s eyes bugged out.
Floria wrinkled her nose. “It certainly doesn’t seem like a welcome fit for a future princess.”
No, it doesn’t, Elodie thought. And there was no outwardly good reason for it. Yet from her experience at the helm of her father’s lands, she knew well that exteriors could easily belie what lay within.
Still…
But she hated to spoil Floria’s excitement at being in Aurea, so she took her sister’s arm and linked it through her own. “We ought to be flattered, Flor. It’s the outsiders who are kept to a castle’s public spaces. But only those who are most trusted get to see the inner workings of a royal family’s home.”
At that, Floria relaxed. “You’re probably right. And as the future princess, you’ll soon know all of Aurea’s secrets.”
ELODIE
The chamberlain led the way up a dim spiral staircase, higher and higher, and Elodie realized they must be inside one of the golden towers.
By the time they reached the upper landing ten flights later, everyone from Lord Bayford’s attendants to Floria was sweating and huffing and puffing. Everyone other than Elodie, who had routinely spent her days hiking Inophe’s dunes. The only thing she didn’t like about the stairwell was how close the walls seemed. As a child, she’d slipped and gotten trapped deep inside a crevice in a plateau, and no one had looked for her for hours because they assumed she was simply out exploring or playing, as Elodie always was. It wasn’t until she failed to turn up for supper that her parents realized something was amiss.
Elodie had never quite overcome her claustrophobia, the suffocating feeling of being trapped and possibly abandoned forever in a narrow wedge of rock. So when the chamberlain opened the door at the top of the spiraling steps, Elodie burst through it to escape the stairwell’s confines.
She blinked at the brightness, the moonlight shockingly intense after the stairwell.
But then she realized it wasn’t just the moon. It was the entire room. The walls were made of polished gold. The furniture was, too. The mirrors and windowsills were gilded, the bedspread and tapestries and rugs were golden, and even the quills on the desk were dipped in gold.
