Prospero Lost: Prospero's Daughter, Book I (57 page)

“You are forgiven—for that.” I crossed my arms. Astreus smiled. His eyes were as blue as a clear winter’s sky, and they bored into mine with such intensity as to leave me lightheaded. He extended his hand.

“Will you dance with me, Lady?”

The sheer audacity of his request left me thunderstruck.

“My lord, you have not yet apologized for humiliating me before the entire feast hall!”

“That is true.”

“Will you apologize?”

“No.”

“Then I shall not dance with you!”

“Come,” he took my hand. I snatched it away.

“If we dance, the others will see us together,” he explained. “They will assume my performance in the hall was caused by my dismay at some rebuff of yours, and not by any shortcoming upon your part.”

“Why should they think that?”

“Why else would I depart with such obvious dismay and then seek you out again, unless it was because I disliked the coldness with which you received my suit?” He spoke as if this conclusion were so obvious that even the smallest of children could not possibly miss it. “They need not know the truth. Come, I will spin you about, and when we part, the others shall come clamoring to partner you, eager to hear from your own lips the subject of our quarrel, and how we came to be reconciled.”

“But we are not reconciled,” I stated.

“It shall be our secret.”

I wanted to refuse, but it was hard to speak while laughing. The sheer audacity of his position on the subject amused me. Astreus did not wait for my answer. He seized me about my waist and drew me, swirling, among the other dancers. I could not pull away now, not without making a scene before the entire company. Resigned, I let him take the lead and turned my concentration to the steps; for I had no elvish surefootedness to keep me from falling on the ice. All eyes were on us now, and a knowing mirth twinkled in the elf king’s gaze. The queen, however, regarded us coldly.

The music and the twinkling lights sang to me, enchanting me with their beauty. Astreus spun me about, his arm tight around my waist, until I was dizzy with laughter and exhilaration. Then, he bowed and left to dance with other maidens, while, true to his prediction, the lords of the High Council swarmed about me, each seeking my hand to dance.

I danced with Aundelair and Valendur, with Vandel and with Fincunir. This last even spun me beneath the mistletoe, which had been hung above the pond, and brushed his cool lips across mine, his eyes mocking all the while. Then, Father Christmas himself asked me to dance, and Mephisto, and Mab, and six handsome blond elves of Father Christmas’s staff, whose names I never caught. When I stopped to catch my breath, the elf king himself came to request a dance.

He bowed over my hand, his towering antlers inclining toward me. His eyes burned with strange compelling emotions that made the company seem to fall away, until there were only he and I. Before I could accept, Astreus appeared out of nowhere and caught my other hand, saying softly in my ear, “Come away with me.”

I blushed, made uncomfortable both by the intensity of the king’s gaze and by the caress of Astreus’s breath upon my neck. Flustered, I blurted, “I do not wish to offend your king. He claimed my attention first.”

King Alastor laughed, shaking his antlers. “If, of all the many charms here at Bromigos’s, Lord Astreus has eyes only for you, it would be niggardly of me to stand in his way. Go with him, fair maiden, and bring him what cheer you may.” And he strode off in search of some other partner.

As he departed, I whispered to Astreus, “What is Bromigos?”

“The name we call our host.”

“Father Christmas? I thought his name was Nicholas.”

“Such a generous man can afford to answer to many names,” he replied, drawing me away from the dance.

Before we could leave, however, Lady Sylvie ran up, laughing, and plucked at Astreus’s sleeve, her eyes of perfect blue gazing merrily into his. Butterflies fluttered about her, surrounding her in a cloud of winged color. As she came to a stop beside us, they settled to form a many-colored living cloak that graced her shoulders and swayed about her body, as if the cloak billowed in its own private wind.

She was so lovely, lively, and quick that I felt slow and cumbersome in comparison, an unfamiliar sensation, for I was used to comparing favorably with other mortal women. I frowned, recalling with dismay the taste of the straw outside a certain feast hall in Paris.

Unwilling to give Astreus an opportunity to humiliate me yet again, I stepped back politely; however, he kept hold of my hand.

“Lord Astreus,” the elven maiden cried, “so long you have been absent
from our company. Surely, you could not be so cruel as to creep away without dancing with me even once?”

“Another time.” He inclined his head politely.

“But I have missed you so!” Sylvie glanced at him sidelong while tugging on his arm. “And we have so much of which to speak, our two domains being commingled, my sylphs and your many aerial servants.” She lowered her long silvery lashes until they brushed her high-boned cheeks. “Surely you will not deny me this tiny request?”

Astreus remained unmoved. “Another time.”

She pouted prettily. “What has this mortal maid, who will be here today and thrown upon the fire tomorrow, to offer you, compared to me, your immortal companion? Come away with me. I’m sure the Aftercomer will wait. Where else has she to go?”

Astreus paused, and, with sinking heart, I knew what would come next. Again, I tried to draw away demurely. Better to be seen yielding the field willingly, than to be humiliatingly thrust aside. Astreus gripped my hand firmly, however, and would not release it. He looked neither at Silvie nor me but stood gazing off across the dance floor toward where, amidst snow and twinkling lights, the elf queen twirled in the arms of her partner. For an instant, Lord Astreus and Queen Maeve regarded each other, both of them with eyes as blank as mirrors. Then, Astreus turned and bowed to Sylvie.

“Another time,” he repeated a third time.

Without another word, she turned and drifted back into the dance.

HE
led me a short distance, the swirling snowflakes closing in about us, until the dancers and their merry music seemed distant and muffled. It was as if we were alone in our own little world, insulated from everything else.

Astreus halted and leaned back, gazing straight up. Laughing, he squeezed my hand.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

I craned my neck. Above, the sky was a vast and endless field of dancing snow. Countless tiny specks of white whirled along spiral paths and swirling eddies in their progression toward the ground.

“Yes!”

Astreus closed his eyes. Snowflakes fell upon his lashes. He spread his arms, pulling my hand along, as if we were about to dive into the sky.

Then we did.

The earth fell away beneath my feet, and we ascended, ever faster, into the twirling snow. Soft snowflakes swept against my face like birds’ wings, melting into cold wetness upon my skin. The wind tousled my hair, tugging at my hair combs until they came free and tumbled earthward. I caught one with my free hand, but the other comb fell away and was lost in the blizzard below. My silvery hair, now free, whipped about my face and shoulders.

Joy, for which I could not possibly find words, sang throughout me. We were flying!

Up, up we rose, until the clouds of the storm fell away beneath us, and I found myself in a clear night sky, beneath a field of stars. Below me, I could see a vast distance. Beyond the storm lay an ocean whose frozen waves sparkled violet. Above, a brilliant glow that was not quite Northern Lights and not quite a rainbow danced, shining purple, lavender, lilac, and magenta.

With a dawning sense of awe and alarm, I realized we were no longer on Earth!

The winds that had lifted us slackened, and we began to fall. Astreus whistled sharply. A trumpet-call answered. Above us, one of the starry constellations tore itself free from the unfamiliar sky and plummeted toward us. As it grew closer, I saw it was a giant black swan the size of a sloop, with stars for eyes. The graceful bird swooped beneath us and caught us, so that we spilled, laughing, onto the soft plumage of its back.

Righting myself, I stroked the silken feathers of the sinuous neck. The black swan spread her wide wings and soared upward. The dancing lights and the violet seas fell away, while all around us the constellations stirred to life. Many were new to me, yet a few were familiar. I recognized the River Eridanus—which flows through the Milky Way to eventually, cascade down beyond the World’s End—and Orion with his great belt, arrow nocked in his bow. He turned his head, regarding us as we flew past. Other giants, whom I did not recognize, watched us as well: a sleek star-eyed cat, a pack of lean hounds, a woman carrying a jar of oil, a ship with sails of starlight. As we glided past a giant seven-tailed steed, it tossed its head, striking the black swan with its long nose and sending us careening, but the great bird righted itself before Astreus and I were thrown from its back.

We flew past the Big Dipper, splashing through the milky liquid that flowed from it. Giddy with wonder, I licked the moisture from my lips. A sweet freshness dazzled my mouth, tasting part of milk and part of cool stardust. As I swallowed, I found I could now hear laughter and the baying of hounds . . . and music.

Entranced upon the black plumage, I listened to the Music of the Spheres. I had never heard the symphony of the fixed stars before, and yet I recognized it instantly. Its crystal perfection, so vast and marvelous and fine, rang like harmonic living bells, filling the Void, until there was no emptiness left. My heart swelled with the music, until I feared it would burst. Then, I was swept away, no longer aware of heart or limbs or “me”—only music.

When I came to myself again, I lay stretched out on the black swan, my head pillowed upon her down. Astreus leaned over me. His eyes were as violet as the sparkling seas below. There was a bitter taste in my mouth, and I saw he held in his other hand a black vial, which he returned to the folds of his cloak.

Gazing up at his slanted features which were illuminated by starlight, I was aware of several things at once. The first was that I had just done something extraordinarily foolhardy. Not only had I allowed myself to be drawn away and beguiled by an elf, but I had also ingested an unknown supernatural substance without thought for the consequences. If, assuming I ever returned home, I could still draw sustenance from earthly food, I should consider myself extraordinarily lucky, and offer thanks and blessings to my Lady immediately.

The second was that I lay on my back nestled in cushioning feathers, gazing up into the startling eyes of an elf. There was something dangerous about even being near elves; just breathing the air near them was enough to fill one’s head with strange dreams, as if they walked awake in a place we only visited in sleep—a place not meant for mortals. He was so near that I could not help but breathe this air, as crisp and sweet as a fresh wind. It was as if a secret wind blew wherever he went; a wind that threatened to sweep me away again, into a world of sky, stars, and madness.

The third was a sense of unshakable peace, a calm serenity left behind by the Music of the Spheres, as if I had—for a time—found my way to a lost home I had not known I was missing.

I sat up, dazed and blinking, still agog with wonder and awe, and scooted backwards, until I leaned against the graceful curve of the giant black swan’s neck. The bitter taste in my mouth caused me to grimace. Astreus leaned back on his haunches, laughing at me.

“What did you give me?”

“Just as mortal philosophers distill the essence of poppy in hopes that such droughts will give their thoughts wings, so we elves have draughts that do the reverse. Your soul had flown far from your body, joining the celestial choir. I summoned it back.”

“I thank you.”

“Do you?” He cocked his head, his eyes dark and starry. “ ’Tis unusual for a mortal to be transported so. I had thought merely to show you a glimpse of the glories of my realm. The magic you guard for your dread father must have seeped into your soul, transforming it and making you more like us.” His eyes narrowed, and he caught a stray lock of my hair. “Last time we met, your hair was as black as obsidian. Is it the mortal disease that has caused it to turn into spun silver?”

I shook my head and drew my hair out of his fingers.

“Family quarrel.”

Astreus smiled subtly. “Perhaps mortals are not so different from elves.” The living constellations were gone, as was the velvety midnight sky. Instead, the air glowed with a rosy hue.

“Where are we now?” I asked.

“At the back of the North Wind. Below lies my stronghold.” Hyperborea! A cold country, but so very beautiful, haunted by gryphons and one-eyed Arimaspians, where the sun lay always beyond the horizon. I wondered what Astreus’s home would be like, and what he might intend the two of us to do there, alone together. The thought both pleased and terrified me.

“I will not dally with you, Astreus,” I said, my heart beating quickly.

“Would a hawk woo a she-dove?” He laughed, mocking. As he tilted his head to regard me, his eyes were as yellow as any falcon’s. The analogy did nothing to soothe my mounting wariness. “No more an elf pursue a mortal maid.”