Once Upon a Dream (5 page)

EVERYONE IN THE
Thorn Castle attended the monthly balls. Well, the peasants were in the secondary hall, and the servants were, of course, serving, but no one was left out. Everyone got wine, cider, food, salt, and a chance to hear the musicians play.

Long silk swags in every shade of blue hung from the walls and billowed out over the ceiling to suggest what the sky used to look like. Magical bronze fountains bubbled water that was tinted slightly blue for effect. Artificial streams ran down troughs in the middle of the great tables like—like actual streams once did, perhaps. Although they didn’t quite tinkle properly, as they did in Aurora’s dreams. The tables had been draped with old blue and green tapestries. Their pictures were blurred and gone; blue dishes and golden plates were arranged to cover them up so no one would see and grow uneasy. There were
always
golden plates at the feasts. It was the only thing Maleficent ever insisted on. Golden plates and golden domes over the food to keep it warm. Seeing them always made the queen smile, though she never said why.

Chandeliers and great pillar candles and torches in the walls all flickered with dancing blue flames thanks to Queen Maleficent’s magic.

The musicians played in the space in front of the three great tables, long blue streamers tied to their horns and mandolins. They sat in what looked very much like a broad wooden washtub, but which people who remembered insisted was a boat.

Even the minstrel was there—albeit with discreet golden chains holding him to the closest pillar and a guard standing nearby. He had apparently been allowed a furlough from his forced recuperation just for tonight. And though his eyes were red, bloodshot, and watery, he was picking his lute with the speed and skill he was renowned for. And acting otherwise completely like his normal self.

Aurora found herself heaving a sigh of relief—and disappointment.
Guilty
disappointment. She genuinely liked the minstrel and didn’t really want anything bad to happen to him…but with him playing and everything back to normal, it really did seem like what he had said about the Outside was nothing but the raving of a drunk. Everything would go on as it had before….

She forced her attention away from him and back to the revelers.

The nobles of the castle were dressed in brilliant blues: Prussian velvet doublets, cerulean linen skirts, periwinkle bodices, sapphire roundlets, cobalt capes, all swirling and undulating as people talked or danced or made their way around the room.

Aurora watched the scene from her vantage point next to the throne with a satisfied smile. On the royal dais, looking down at the entire room, she imagined she was also on a boat, watching waves crash against each other in dance after dance.

Maybe it really was like a sea.

Maleficent wore all black as usual, but with a nod to the theme of the festivities, she had changed her horned headpiece to a slightly iridescent blue and wore matching iridescent wristlets.

Aurora shifted her legs in a slightly unprincessy manner; her decorative bag hung heavier than usual. It was only when she looked down that she saw the uneven corners of the cards sticking out the top of her velvet pouch.

“Something the matter, my dear?” the queen drawled.

“No. It’s just…” Aurora fumbled with the bag and loosened its drawstrings. “I found these earlier. I was…I was going to ask you about them.”

As she handed the deck over, she wondered if that was strictly true. She had no hesitation in showing them now, but if she hadn’t been caught, would she have?

“Ahhhh.” Maleficent’s eyes widened for a moment, but the sound came out of her mouth long and quiet. Aurora had no idea how to interpret it. “This is how the world was before. Before your parents destroyed it. Behold: the sun. A unicorn. A lion. A rabbit. A deer…”

As the queen named each card, Aurora found herself mouthing the words she didn’t know after her, trying to remember.

“And so on. You shouldn’t look at these, dear. They will only make you sad. They are all gone from this world, never to return.”

Maleficent let the cards tumble from her fingers to the ground.

Aurora watched, tears springing to her eyes.

“Couldn’t you,” she whispered, “couldn’t you with your magic…?”

“There is no magic in the world powerful enough to bring back that which is truly dead and extinct. I’m so sorry, my dear. You should, sadly, put it completely out of your head. It can only cause you sorrow.”

Aurora nodded mutely, trying not to sniff.

Maleficent put a finger to her niece’s chin and gently forced her head up. “See? It is already ruining your fantastic party. It’s unfortunate you ever saw these.”

The princess took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. Through the blur of her unshed tears, the golden numbers on the cards gleamed and twinkled from the floor, refusing to be trash.

The queen also regarded the cards on the ground and began to tap on the edge of her throne with her long black fingernails.

“Where
did
you find these, anyway?” she asked casually.

Aurora shrugged. “They fell off my bookshelf. I never noticed them before. All of the other books are, you know, senseless or blank.”

“Of course they are,” the queen said, nodding, seeming relieved. “You must be careful, my Aurora. The Outside has ways of getting
in
side. My powers can stave off the physical attacks, the bigger monsters and obvious threats of invasion…but evil has a way of slipping in—through the cracks in your mind. Wishes are powerful and dangerous things. Do not wish for things that can never be.”

“Yes, Aunt Maleficent.” The woman’s words had been said as gently as possible, and there had only been the mildest tone of chastisement. Yet the princess was once again filled with shame at her ingratitude, her silly little-girlishness in wishing to see something that would never be again. Things that were long ago destroyed—by her own parents. And
their
evil wishes.

“Oh, darling, don’t be grumpy,” Maleficent said with a smile. “Enjoy your party, dear! Look how much fun everyone is having, thanks to you!”

The queen indicated the crowd with an elegant and dramatic wave of her fingers. While she was looking away, Aurora quickly used an agile foot to sweep a few of the cards out of sight, under the train of her gown. Only then did she follow her aunt’s example and look around.

Lianna was clapping along on the far side of the room; she never danced. When she saw the princess looking at her, she nodded her head slightly. Aurora turned to follow the direction of her nod and saw, dressed in a worn velvet doublet that was certainly not his own, the stable boy, Cael. He had his head thrown back in laughter at something one of the serving girls said, his thick brown hair tossed behind him like…like…like a mane. But his eyes were directed at Aurora, and he grinned.

She didn’t particularly fancy him, but grinned back anyway. A young man who wanted to dance was a young man who wanted to dance, and in the castle at the end of the world, there weren’t a whole lot to choose from.

On the other hand…there was also Count Brodeur, who never looked away from her eyes when they talked, who flattered her and spoke sweetly. An older and wiser man than a silly stable boy. Someone she could
discuss
things with.

She picked up her skirts—and, secretly, the cards—and hurried down to join him.

“Your Highness,” the count said, turning and executing a low, sweeping bow the moment he saw her. His blue cape flew out behind him like the tail of a magnificent bird: a peacock or a badger or something similar. His peppered-gray mustache tickled the back of her hand as he kissed it.

“A word, if you would?” she asked, trying not to simper and giggle, though she couldn’t stop the smile forming in the corners of her lips. It was also hard not to look at her hands as they stuffed the cards back into her bag.

“You may have
all
my words, forever, Your Highness,” he promised, only the twinkle in his eye betraying any admission of hyperbole. “Also, all my dances.”

He put his arms out, and Aurora gracefully scooped up the train of her gown and let him lead her delicately out onto the floor. Their fingertips just touched in this most proper of dances. When she spun, she saw Cael miming an arrow striking his heart and feigning big tears. But he had another drink of cider and didn’t seem overly concerned as he chatted up the maid who had brought it over.

“May I ask you a question, Count Brodeur—discreetly?” she asked, turning so she avoided looking at the stable boy.

“Always, Your Highness,” the count said, his interest definitely piqued. “Intrigue? Schemes?
Anything
to relieve the boredom around here?”

Aurora chose not to think about the rumors concerning how Brodeur relieved his own boredom. She also chose to ignore Lianna, who was watching them closely with what looked like a frown on her otherwise placid face.

“Nothing, perhaps, so interesting,” she slipped a hand into her pouch and pulled out the feather. “What do you think of
this
…?”

The count squinted at it, disappointed. “It’s just a feather. So what?”

The princess bit her lip, a little taken aback by his reaction.

“But…it’s not a
pigeon
feather,” she pointed out. “Or a sparrow’s, or…”

“Is this for a scavenger hunt?” he asked, getting excited again. “Is someone organizing another scavenger hunt?”

Aurora frowned.
Scavenger hunt?
Were there all sorts of games going on that the royal princess wasn’t invited to?

“No,” she said impatiently. “The minstrel said he got it from the Outside….”

“OUTSIDE?”

The count stopped dancing and grabbed her by the shoulders in an entirely indecent and improper manner.

“Good sir,” Aurora said as politely as she could, looking around nervously.

“
When did he go?
He’s back in?
How did he get out?
What did he see?” the count demanded, almost hissing like her aunt.

“I don’t know. He was drunk. He’s always drunk. He may have been lying,” she stammered.

“
DID HE REALLY GO OUTSIDE?
Is the air out there good and sweet? He survived?
You must tell me!
” he said, practically shaking her.

“Please—you’re hurting me,” Aurora said, fighting tears. People were watching. Despite the occasional breach of etiquette in the endless confinement of the castle, attacks on the royal princess—in public, no less—just didn’t happen.

Two of Maleficent’s servants were instantly on either side of her, bronze spears held at the ready.

The count paled and immediately let her go.

“My apologies, Your Highness,” he said, making an extremely low bow and touching his heart. “I was…overwhelmed.”

His face was red and his eyes were darting, unsettled.

Aurora noticed that, despite this, he had carefully phrased his apology such that it could be misinterpreted as to mean he was overwhelmed by
her
—her beauty.

Everyone was staring.

Including Queen Maleficent, whose yellow eyes watched unblinkingly to see what she would do.

The princess wanted nothing more than to run away. To pick up her skirts and run out of the room, away from the faces—to run to bed and her solitude and her silence.

But she was a royal princess in the Thorn Castle at the end of the world.

And the wrong word from her would send this
stupid
man to his death.

She drew up her shoulders, trying to channel her aunt.

“There is no trouble here,” she said, voice quavering. “As the count said, he was merely overwrought. You may return to your posts.”

The creatures slumped but obeyed, looking disappointed they didn’t get to rough someone up. The crowd turned away—also disappointed that the excitement was over.

The count gave a subdued, if sullen, bow. She hurried away from him, anywhere—toward Mistress Laura, who was sporting an extremely bright orange dress instead of the aquamarine she was supposed to.

And Aurora kept the feather and the minstrel’s secret to herself from then on, as safely locked in her heart as they all were in the castle.