Allerleirauh

Chapter 17

17

Each day during the passing week, I watched from my window as the king’s servants gathered the items, one by one. I saw the selection of furs, silks, gold, and jewels trickle into the castle. Messengers arrived daily, almost hourly, with sacks of game caught by hired hunters for what I had hoped to be an impossible fur cloak. With each sack, I watched my freedom slowly slip through my fingers. Each tailor brought into the palace from local villages was hired to hem, sew, and create the improbable dresses.

I was whisked into rooms to be measured countless times each day, taking careful examination of the length of my arms, the length of my torso, and chest. All the while, I knew what the servants were imagining. I could see it in their eyes as they wrapped their measuring tapes around my skin, writing down scribbles of numbers and whispering among themselves.

Each day brought somber mornings as I watched the hunters and seamstresses hard at work. Myriah would tend to my baths, my morning meals, and a quick walk in the gardens. Every afternoon, I would try to distract myself with a trip to the library to study. The windows of the library overlooked the courtyard, where I would witness my father’s men continuing with their tasks.

With each passing hour under the watchful eyes of the tailors or ever-present hunters bringing in skins of animals, I longed to hide away to my rooms. I felt like a wild animal, being exhibited to the kingdom’s scrutiny. My father sent Lord Haven to my room every night with a new simple gown and a request for me to join him in the great hall for dinner, but I refused. I did not want to danger myself with drugged wine or my father’s clammy hands pulling at my clothing again.

The haunting recollection of the night in his chambers often left me isolated within myself. I found it harder to push away the intense memories of his fumbling hands, the scrape of his beard, or his gasping murmurs against my ear. Myriah became my only source of comfort. I shared my meals with her in the safety of my chambers, and listened to her soft singing before bed. Often, I found myself sitting in bed, late into the night, praying silently to God for an escape from my father, the castle, and his madness. Was this my mother punishing me? Was this a curse she had left behind just for me? Was I truly to become her replacement?

Myriah came to my bedchambers the night before the presentation of gowns, bearing a grim face. She brought a rough, brown satchel to my side and slowly pulled a small amber-stone encrusted dagger from the bag. I knew what this meant: defeat.

“Aurelia. . .” she started apologetically, as she sighed. “I want you to be ready for whatever may happen tomorrow.”

Her voice was grim and I slowly sat up in my bed, staring at the glistening blade and then back at her. We both knew what would happen tomorrow. The castle was full of talk of the king’s success in fulfilling my requests.

“Take the coat he offers you, Aurelia. Take the satchel, the blade, and some food to hold you over until you find the nearby village. Find a place to hide there, and don’t come back.”

A long moment passed between us until I finally spoke.

“I want to burn the dresses. I want to burn them, so that tomorrow can never come.”

Myriah raised an eyebrow and looked at me as though I had gone insane. Perhaps in burning the dresses it would be a means of more time. Perhaps my father would see reason and change his mind, or perhaps it would . . . if only, delay a wedding from occurring.

“Tomorrow is the König’s presentation,” Myriah tried to say, but I shook my head.

“There won’t be a presentation if I burn the dresses, don’t you see?”

Myriah touched my hand and slowly nodded.

“Yes, princess . . .” She glanced at the candle near my bedside. “If you wish to try, I’m sure I could get you to the seamstresses’ quarters unseen,” she murmured.

“Take me there, Myriah,” I commanded softly, pushing the blankets from me. “I have to try.”

With a candle, Myriah and I weaved our way from my room, through the long and winding hallways. There was something ominous lurking in the darkness that we could not see with our candlelight. No servants or tailors were weaving in and out of the now closed rooms, where the dresses were being held. There was only the echo of our footsteps as we eased closer and closer. The archways of each corridor were decorated with floral, ribbons, and new candles, all ready for the celebration at hand; my wedding.

Myriah held my hand as she guided me through the servant’s quarters where everyone was fast asleep. As Myriah opened the door to one of the older rooms, I could see in the shadows one of the magnificent dresses standing upright in a body form. Myriah closed the door quietly behind us, taking extra care not to awaken any of the servants nearby.

I couldn’t help but admire the dress in the dim candlelight as my hand reached out to the shimmering silk. This was the stardust dress. The fabric was an incredible dark blue with hues of black and purple, and little glittering stars adorned the body of the dress. The grown was truly fit for a queen.

“We should be quick about this,” Myriah murmured as she handed me the candle in her hand. “Just light the dress from the bottom. We can put it out once most of it has been destroyed.”

I knew Myriah had much to lose if this plan went badly. My father could have her killed if he ever found out she’d helped me. It was a risk I knew she was willing to take for my sake; for my freedom.

I nodded and took the candle from her hand. Bending down, I let the wick touch the hem of the stardust dress. At first, each time the flame came near the fabric, a gust of wind flickered the fire away from the dress. And each time I brought the candle closer to the silk, nothing seemed to happen. I glanced at Myriah in my confusion as I continued to lift the candle to any part of the dress: the sleeves, the bodice, the collar. Nothing burned.

Myriah walked to the other silhouettes in the room; the other dresses standing in their splendor. I followed her, handing her the candle. She took the flickering flame and set it against the fabric of the gold, shimmering, sun dress. The dress did not catch on fire.

“How can this be?” I murmured, shaking my head as I pressed a finger to my temple.

“The seamstresses must have doused the gown with a mixture,” Myriah murmured as she lowered her candle to the floor and lifted the fabric to her nose. Her fingers grazed over the material as she furrowed her brow.

“Many years ago, when I first came to work in the castle, I had known a woman who knew such techniques. It is possible your father took extra precautions.”

“Would he truly do such a thing?” I already knew the answer before Myriah could respond. Myriah and I both knew of my father’s desperation, and would do anything to take provision in ensuring our marriage arrangement. Perhaps my father knew me well enough to realize I would do whatever I could to thwart his plan.

“It’s the only way this would be feasible, unless by witchcraft,” she said as she spread some of the golden silk out to examine it more closely with the dim candlelight in her hand. Myriah’s expert fingers moved over the length of the gown with a knowing nod.

“It looks and smells just as I remember from before. It would seem your father would go to any length to marry you.”

“But that can’t be,” I whispered. “This can’t be how this . . . he’s . . .”

I tried to find the right words for the horrible sense of betrayal I felt. My father was not supposed to succeed in creating these impossible requests, and now it appeared he would win at the hand of his clever tricks. He would win the one thing that should have been denied to him. What gold price did he pay for this achievement? Dread overwhelmed me. I couldn’t fight against magic. Myriah turned to me once more and gave me a small, sad smile.

“Come,” Myriah said softly, tilting her head. “Let’s put you to bed.”

I stood frozen as I gazed at her, shocked.

“How can you just rush me off to bed, Myriah?” I whimpered through my terrible panic.

I pulled my hand away as she tried to grab it.

“How can I go back to my room and . . . welcome the morning? My father will present these gifts to me tomorrow. I will be forced to go through with my promise. I can’t run away from this—from him. He’ll find me. There is nothing he won’t do . . .”

“There is always something you can do, Aurelia,” Myriah hissed, shaking her head as she grabbed my hands firmly between hers. “There is always a choice. You can stay and live here with him and bear him the heirs he desires, or you can run. You can take the satchel and the dagger I gave you and leave. Take your life into your own hands, princess. While you’ll lose the home you live in and the luxuries you have grown accustomed to, they’ll always be replaceable. You’ve lost a mother and a father, for they’re both lost to you now. Your father is no longer the man you thought he was. The shadow of the man he was, is now a monster who wishes to become your husband. He is not a father to you now, Aurelia.” Myriah frowned as I stared at her.

“There will always come a time in one’s life, when they’re faced with a difficult choice. You can choose to stay and allow this marriage to occur, to accept and be content with misery. Or, you can choose a newer, better life. It will be harder, no doubt, but better.”

I shivered from the truth of her words. I knew Myriah was right; I did have a choice. Slowly, I nodded and reluctantly followed her back to my rooms.

As we walked, I silently wished on each stone we passed that I would manage an escape.

I would never marry my father.