“No, my lady. Should be here any moment.”
“Go and check. Now. And keep your mouth shut, you understand, or you will pay for it.”
“Yes, my lady.” He fled, leaving the storeroom door unguarded. This was not as lax as it seemed, since heavy iron bolts were drawn across it. If I had so chosen, I could have pulled them open and marched right in. I could have confronted my future husband and made him tell me the truth. But that was not what I had promised Laerke; Laerke who had brought me my three little friends; Laerke who had crossed a wilderness and forded a river and climbed a mountain to get here. Laerke who stuck to her mission even when she was sad and lonely and scared half out of her wits.
That’s what being brave is, Hulde, I told myself. Not doing great deeds. Just keeping on going, whatever happens.
No time to waste. I searched the cluttered table, hoping I was right about what I’d seen there the first time. Where was it? Ah! Here in a clutter of wine bottles. I snatched it and slipped it into my pocket, then brought out the other, identical container I had taken from my mother’s cupboard. Provided this was where the prince’s nightly wine was doctored, my plan would work. If the sleeping potion was already in the cup when the tray left the kitchen, Laerke would have another wasted night, and the wedding would go ahead as planned. I might be a little brave, but I was not brave enough to tell my mother outright that I refused to marry the prince. If I did, she would force the reason from me, and Laerke would die. I knew it in my bones.
The manservant was back. He set the laden tray down on the table, then stood waiting. Waiting for me to leave.
“Go ahead, take his supper in,” I said. “Don’t mind me.”
Still he stood there, awkward, not quite prepared to speak.
“Shall I help you with that?” It was foolish, perhaps; but it would protect me from Mother’s wrath if she found out. I stepped forward, picked up the little bottle, took out the cork and poured the contents into the goblet that stood on the tray beside the prince’s covered platter. “There.”
“You know about this, my lady?”
“Did I ask you to comment?”
“No, my lady.”
“Then hold your tongue. Take the prince’s supper in and, if you know what is good for you, stay silent on this matter.”
There was a narrow escape on the way back to my bedchamber, as Mother came along a hallway and I was forced to shrink into an alcove, holding my breath. She passed, not seeing me. I fled. In my chamber, my three friends were waiting, the kitten and puppy now on the floor rolling about—most certainly, I had not wound them up—the golden bird perched on the peg that held my wedding gown. Curse it! I would have to call Marit or Lina to press the wretched thing.
I hid the three friends away in my storage chest, murmuring an apology. I called my maids and ordered them to take gown and veil away, get every crease out, and not bring them back until tomorrow. I closed and bolted the door after them. My supper tray was waiting on the small table, but I was not hungry. Outside, the light had faded into the long summer dusk. Soon Laerke would make her dangerous trip across the walled garden and into the storeroom. I let the little ones out, setting the kitten and puppy on the bed and letting the bird stretch its wings.
Time for the mirror. You can do it, Laerke, I thought. Make the story brave and true. If he’s yours, take him and be happy. Because a good story always had a happy ending, didn’t it?
In the mirror, the Prince of the Far Isles lay on his bed in the storeroom, the strong planes of his face turned to gold by the lamplight. His supper tray stood on a chest, the goblet empty. His eyes were closed, the dark lashes soft against his cheeks.
The outer door creaked open. He started, sitting up abruptly. There was Laerke on the threshold, in her serving woman’s clothes, with her red hair loose over her shoulders. She closed the door and turned to face him.
“Oh, gods!” she said, her eyes alive with joy. “She did it! You’re awake!”
“Laerke!” The prince was on his feet. He opened his arms wide. “My love, my dearest, you’re here!”
She ran into his embrace, weeping against his shoulder. He stroked her hair; she nestled against him as if he were her home, her heart, her safety from the storm. It was just like something from a grand old story, and it made me cry, but I did not know if I shed tears of happiness that he and she had found each other, or of sorrow that nobody would ever look at me like that, hold me like that, love me like that. I was clumsy and stupid. I had achieved this for Laerke only by doing bad things: lying, stealing, frightening people.
Laerke and the prince held each other for a long time, whispering words I could not hear. They touched each other in ways that were strange and new to me. At length they sat down side by side on the bed, hand in hand.
“Tomorrow,” the prince said. “After sunset, since the queen will not let me out until I am in this form again. The key is the shirt, Laerke. Wash the shirt clean and you will win me my freedom. I will be a man forever, and we can go home.”
“The queen will be furious,” said Laerke. “When she’s angry she kills people. She rips them apart with her bare hands. One of the serving women told me.”
“Nonetheless,” said the prince, putting his arm around her, “a curse follows rules, like any other form of magic. Once it’s lifted, it’s lifted entirely and forever. I will no longer be forced to switch between human and animal form; no longer required to come here every third summer; no longer bound to this marriage. She must let us go. We will be free to live our lives and to shape our own story.”
I couldn’t breathe. My heart hurt. A flood of tears waited to fall, somewhere behind my eyes.
“This is all my fault,” Laerke said, hanging her head. “If I had not been curious… if I had done as you bid me, and not tried to look at you by night…”
“It is not your fault.”
I wondered, now, that I had not recognised his voice, so deep and soft, so gentle and sweet. How could I not have known?
“We could not have gone on that way forever. It would have destroyed us. Now we have the chance to make things right, Laerke. That is thanks to you. I don’t know how you did it. How you travelled all this way to find me.”
“Could you not see me in your little mirror?”
“I lost the mirror,” he said. “I thought you might not come. But you’re here, my brave one.”
“I do not deserve you,” she said. “You are too good for me, dearest Rune.”
“Nonsense.” He kissed her on the lips. “You are precious beyond any treasure, my love. You’d best go now. Tomorrow, perform your usual duties all day and try to avoid notice. Just make sure that when the ceremony is about to begin, you are there, concealed in the crowd. Leave the rest to me.”
“Rune?”
“Yes, my dearest?”
“What about Hulde? What will happen to her?”
The most beautiful man in the world smiled as he thought of me. It was not the sort of smile he bestowed on Laerke. It was the smile of a friend; the smile a kindly man might give to a child. “I have tried to help her,” he said. “To give her the means to help herself. But I cannot do more. She must make her own life.”
“I am a woman,” I whispered. “And I love you. You are the sun, moon and stars. Don’t leave me, Rune!”
But Rune could not hear. The mirror misted over and turned to grey.
For a heartbeat I was cold stone. Then the bird flew past me, trilling merrily. I snatched her in her flight and hurled her against the wall, where she smashed into a thousand tinkling pieces.
I wept until I was sick. I wept until there was not one tear left in me. For a little, I must have fallen asleep, for I woke to find the kitten pressed against my neck and the puppy curled by my side. They forgive everything, I thought. Even the most terrible of rages, the most violent of acts, they forgive.