“But you’re not wearing the necklace,” said Lady Fiora. “The one my brother had made for you. Didn’t you like it?”
“I thought the iron was inappropriate for today,” said Aurora stiffly.
“Ah,” Lady Fiora said, changing the subject with a nervous laugh. “Are you ready for the contest?”
Lady Sybil took Aurora’s hand. “Oh, you must come. Everyone’s so eager.”
Aurora looked toward the crowd gathered around a stage and saw Knotgrass flying over them. “Are there many contestants?”
Lady Sybil giggled. “You’ll see!”
As they drew Aurora closer, she spotted Lord Ortolan waiting for her by the stage. Her aunties were there, too. The crowd gave a cry when Aurora stepped up. She grinned and waved, and the shouting got louder.
Knotgrass buzzed up to her. “Oh, Aurora, your friends had so many good ideas for riddles!”
“Ah, good,” she said, realizing that though she’d asked her aunties to arrange things and hoped it would keep them from burying the festival in flowers, she had no idea just what they’d arranged for the contest.
“My queen!” Lord Ortolan said, pitching his voice loudly so that the audience heard him. “Your subjects await the opening contest of the festival—a contest to win your hand for a single dance, the first of today!”
At that pause, Aurora jumped in, turning to the crowd. “Thank you for coming. I hope that all of you—my dear subjects—will drink and eat and laugh together.”
Another cheer went up at her words.
Flittle, Knotgrass, and Thistlewit began explaining the contest. Many villagers and courtiers and faeries alike waited in an area separated from the rest of the crowd by ribbons, having signaled their intention to vie for a dance with the queen. From young boys to elderly men with canes, to several people Aurora suspected of being ladies with their hair tucked up in hats, to Fair Folk, at least two dozen contestants were ready to answer riddles. Count Alain was among them, leaning against the stage and whispering with three young noblemen Aurora recognized from court. Robin, too, had come, probably to represent the Moors. Possibly to confound Count Alain.
“I see that Prince Phillip won’t be taking part,” Lord Ortolan observed to Aurora in an undertone. “I heard a rumor that—”
“Yes. He is taking his leave of us soon,” she whispered back, trying not to let him see that it bothered her.
“For our first round,” said Flittle, “I shall ask a riddle and each of you will come and tell me the answer. Answer incorrectly and you leave the stage. Answer right and you remain a player.”
She intoned the first of the riddles:
I saw a being
Of shining beauty.
She came over the roof
And through my window.
Then west she went,
Hurrying home.
With her gone,
Night departed.
Each contestant came forward to whisper an answer to Flittle. Some she nodded at. Others she sent away. The first round eliminated a little under half the contestants.
“The answer is the moon,” said Thistlewit triumphantly. There were murmurs in the audience—perhaps from people who’d guessed correctly, perhaps from those who were sorry to see someone they knew lose. “I shall be the one to speak the next riddle.”
She did so:
Bent over as I am,
Yet I am meant for fighting.
Loosen my string and I stand up taller.
But unstring me and I serve no one.
To do your bidding, I must be cleverly tied,
And never will I work alone.
More muttering followed from the audience. Aurora supposed that they were whispering guesses to one another and hoped they would not be so loud that the contestants would overhear.
The words of this riddle stuck in her head. Perceforest had been on the brink of war with the Moors throughout most of her childhood—and though she had been well out of it, plenty of these folks had not. And before that, things had been worse.
“The answer is a bow, you clever dears!” Thistlewit continued.
The initial group had been cut down quite a bit. Remaining were Count Alain and one of the other nobles, a Baron Nicholas; three men from the town, who gave their names as John, Jack, and Mark; and Robin, from the Moors.
Aurora felt a strange hollowness.
“What a good idea this is,” Lady Sybil said, clapping her hands together. “I know an excellent riddle. May I ask one?”
“Of course.” Thistlewit smiled at the girl, then addressed the crowd. “Now that we’ve narrowed down our contestants, we will ask each one a riddle. They must answer it correctly in front of everyone or be eliminated. Fail and the same riddle will pass to the contestant at your left.”
Robin was up first.
“Go ahead, Lady Sybil,” Thistlewit said encouragingly.
With a giggle, she began:
She is sharply defended
Yet dies because of her beauty
And her mysterious perfume.
She will live on in poetry,
Decorating my mantel with her grave.
“That’s quite grim,” Lord Ortolan said, startled.
But the crowd seemed to enjoy it, cheering for her as she said the words.
Robin bowed with a flourish as he stepped forward to answer. “We faeries love a good riddle. And we particularly love one as pretty as this. The answer is a rose.” He waved his hand in the air, calling forth three roses. They were light blue and larger than any Aurora had seen away from the Moors, including the ones Maleficent had caused to grow at the borders.
The crowd cheered as he gave one to Thistlewit, one to Aurora, and the last to the blushing Lady Sybil.
Count Alain was the next contestant to be tested as Robin walked to one side of the stage.
Lady Fiora touched Thistlewit’s shoulder. “May I ask one next?”
“Indeed, dearie,” said the pixie.
Aurora felt curiously listless. And she kept scanning the crowd without being quite sure what she was looking for. It was only when Lady Fiora began speaking that Aurora realized that it was probably unfair that her riddle was for her own brother.
A weaver with a deadly cloth
She will never wear.
Her larder is a living feast
Of the mute victims of her art.
She is blessed with eyes and hands
But cursed to live always inside armor.
Count Alain seemed to think for only a moment before he gave his answer. “A spider.”
Aurora gave Lady Fiora a sidelong glance, but the girl didn’t seem to notice. And what did it matter who Aurora stood up with first? If it was Alain, then so be it. If it made the other nobles think he had more influence with her or he was more in her favor, they would soon learn otherwise.
It’s just a game, Aurora reminded herself. A silly game.