“You said there were three choices. I would like to hear the other two, if it’s all right. A quick and painless death is not a bad choice, especially since at one point today I thought I would be eaten alive, but I would like to know my options, please.”
“You are most polite, child.”
“My mother would be pleased that you say so.” The sorceress smiled, a small smile, and then continued. “The second choice is to show you a secret way out of my lair. You may go forth and never see your father or the earl again. You can make your way in the world, Elinore.”
“I suppose I could do that, but I have never been out in the world. I’m not certain I would know how to make my way. What is the third choice?”
“That you try to rescue the prince.”
“What happens if I fail?”
The sorceress clapped her hands, and two young women walked out, one from each side of the room. There must have been doors there that Elinore couldn’t see, or was it the same kind of magic that had made the sphinx able to vanish and appear?
The women took up their posts on either side of the throne. One held a bowl of fruit, the other a jug of wine, and a goblet. The sorceress took the wine but did not touch the fruit.
“This is Princess Meriwether”—she pointed at the tall one with wavy brown hair—“and this is the Baroness Vanessa,” she said of the raven-haired one.
Elinore gaped at them. “The Princess Meriwether and the Vanessa from the songs?”
“The very same,” the sorceress said.
“The songs say they died valiantly.”
“No. They failed to save Prince True, and as punishment they have served me these long years.”
“So if I fail, then I will become your servant?”
“Yes.”
Elinore thought about her options, and then asked, “Could I meet the prince before I decide?”
The sorceress smiled, and waved the two failed rescuers to posts at either side of her throne. “That is a wise question, Elinore. You wish to see if he is worth the risk, eh?”
Elinore nodded. “I do.”
The sorceress drew a silver chain out of her bosom. There was a silver whistle on the chain. She blew it, one clear, birdlike note.
A man walked out of the wall just behind the throne. Were there no normal doors in this room or were they all bewitched so that Elinore could not see them?
The prince, for he still looked like his portrait in the great hall at court, knelt before the throne. “My mistress calls and I must answer.”
“You have another rescuer, but she wished to see you first.”
The prince looked over his shoulder, still kneeling, but definitely looking at Elinore. His brown hair was cut short, but still had tiny curls in it. His eyes were a blue as deep as her own. The brows that curved above those eyes were graceful and a little darker than his hair. He was pale of skin, though in the portrait he was tanned. But then, he had not been outside of this place for more than fifty years. He had grown pale in his long years of captivity. But beyond that, he looked as if he had just ridden through the doors. As with the two women who had come and failed, they had not aged a day.
“Stand up; let her see you better.”
The prince came to his feet and faced Elinore. His face was arrogant, defiant, and almost angry.
Normally, she would have lowered her eyes from such a stare, but this was too important to look away. She studied his face, and found him handsome enough, and his spirit was not broken. So many years, yet he still stared out like that. This was a strong man, not just of arm, but of character, as her grandmother had said.
“May I ask the prince a question?”
“You may, though whether he will answer is another question.”
“Your highness, are you worth the risk of my freedom, and maybe my life?”
The arrogance faltered, and she watched him have a thought. She wasn’t sure what that thought was, but she saw it. “In all these long years no one has asked that. If you win my freedom, then you will be my wife, and queen of all. Isn’t that worth risking your freedom?”
“Your brother has been king for over twenty years, longer than I have been alive. Do you truly think he will simply give up his throne to you and your queen, just like that?”
“Of course he will. I am the heir to the throne. I am his older brother.”
“Prince True, your younger brother is as old as your father was when you vanished. He has two sons and two daughters of his own now.”
“I am the heir, and our laws will force him to give up the throne to me.”
Elinore studied the handsome, but oh, so arrogant face. She turned to the sorceress. “What would the challenge be, if I took it?”
“You would either face the prince in combat, or cook a dinner. Combat is simple: defeat the prince, and you win his hand. The meal is more complicated: you will prepare your best food, and it is my taste you must please. I have yet to taste anyone’s pies that can rival Prince True’s.”
Elinore knew she would not choose combat, but she was confident of her pies. Cook said she was good enough to cook at the palace, and Cook would not lie.
“If the prince had pretended to be bested at combat, would you have let him go?”
“If he had been willing to allow himself to lose, then he would have learned his lesson, and earned his freedom.”
“But he bested them all?” Elinore asked.
“He killed them all,” the sorceress said, and she watched Elinore as she said it.
“They came to save him, and he slew them?”
“He did.”
“And if he put salt in the pie instead of sugar, then one of the other women would have won the contest and he could have been free, yes?”
“Yes, but he still cannot bear to lose, not at anything, and definitely not to a woman.”
Elinore folded her hands along the soft edge of the cloak she had woven and dyed. “I think I could best him at cooking, because our head cook praises me. Never in front of my parents, for they would not understand that her approval meant more to me than theirs.”
“Your head cook is a servant,” the prince said, “and she has to tell you that you are good at something.”
“So you will take the challenge?” the sorceress asked.
“No, I will not,” Elinore said.
The prince stared at her. “What?”
“I have seen and talked to you and I do not think your freedom is worth mine.”
“But I am Prince True, heir to the kingdom.”
“You are Prince True, but I think your brother, or his children, would find a way to deny you the throne. They could say your years with the sorceress had driven you mad and lock you up in a tower.”
“They would not dare!”
“Sorceress, you said there was a secret way out.”
“I did, but what will you do, Elinore the Younger, by yourself, in the wide world?”
“I can sew and cook, and garden. I know my herbs and their uses.”
“So does every peasant woman,” the prince said.
“I bake the finest pies in our lands.”
“I bake a finer pie than you, girl.”
“I propose a different challenge,” the sorceress said.
“I propose that the two of you bake me a pie. If Elinore makes the best pie, then I will give her a dowry so she may set herself up in business, or wed a baker, or a weaver. If the prince is best, then Elinore may leave empty-handed, but she may go with my blessing.”
“And what do I win?” the prince asked.
“A lesson in humility, I hope.”
The kitchen was large and airy, and made Elinore wish she could give Cook such a kitchen back home. The moment she thought “home,” her chest tightened, and her throat closed around something hard and hurtful. She would never see home again, unless she won the prince his freedom and went back to be queen. But Elinore had been to court, though only once, with the other fifteen-year-old noble daughters. She had been introduced to the king and his queen. She had danced with their sons, tried to talk to their daughters. She didn’t think they would so easily give up their throne to a long lost brother and uncle.