Heart of the Moors

Chapter 17

The next day was full of preparations for the festival. The cooks had to bring in enormous wheels of cheese, sausages, barrels of apples, baskets of eggs, and carts filled with sacks of flour, along with scores of promising young people to help them turn those supplies into a banquet.

Fun meant work, and a lot of it.

Maypoles were being erected, ribbons braided, tents sewn, and chairs cut. Musicians were arriving early, having been called from the countryside. Stewpots were being borrowed and spits constructed by the castle blacksmith.

Everyone seemed full of fresh energy. The courtiers were eager to plan their outfits. Two young girls recently arrived from a barony were nearly ecstatic with glee.

“Oh!” said Lady Sabine. She had deep bronze skin and wore her sleek black hair pulled back into a wimple. “We are so terribly excited to be here at court.”

“And we did so hope you would give a ball!” said her twin, Lady Sybil. “So it is wondrous that we came just in time for the festival. And there will be dancing, so it is very like a ball, really.”

“I suppose it is,” Aurora said hesitantly. Everything she’d heard of balls made them sound full of fancy people in enormous gowns. Not like her festival, where everyone would be welcome.

And of course, she was worried about the treaty. She’d listened to everything both the humans and the faeries had said to her and rewritten it herself. She wasn’t sure it would make anyone happy, but she hoped it was fair enough that everyone would at least be equally unhappy.

“I hope you will forgive me for saying so, but King Stefan and Queen Leila were quite dour rulers,” said Lady Sabine. “There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, but you are so young that we hoped—”

Sybil jumped in, half like she was talking over her sister and half like they were speaking with one voice and few pauses. “We imagined meeting you so many times. We thought you might be lonely, growing up as you did. And we thought that perhaps you would like to do fun things.”

Aurora wanted to say that she hadn’t been lonely—not with her aunties and Diaval and her godmother—but that wasn’t entirely true. She hadn’t had a playmate her own age. She hadn’t had anyone to engage in games with and confide her secrets to, at least not until—

She pushed that thought away. “I hope we will have fun,” she said as Lady Fiora walked up, clearly overhearing the conversation.

“Since you’re planning on dancing,” Lady Fiora said, “have you thought who you will have lead you out to open the festivities? Someone must bring you out onto the floor.”

Aurora hadn’t considered that.

Lady Sybil giggled. “Yes, everyone will want your hand, and everyone will be watching to see who you choose. That’s so terribly exciting.”

“You should dance with Prince Phillip,” said Lady Sabine. “He’s very handsome, don’t you think?”

“Oh, yes,” said her sister. “And a prince, so his rank is second only to yours. Perhaps Ulstead would even be offended if you didn’t give him the first dance. After all, no one else can claim quite so much consequence.”

Aurora thought of his resolution to wear heavy shoes so that she could tread on his feet as much as she liked, and smiled. If she could open the dancing with him, she could relax. He would guide her through the steps without judging her for not knowing them even half as well as any other girl from one of the noble houses would have.

“I suppose I could dance with him if it’s the polite thing to do,” she said, hoping it wasn’t obvious what a relief that would be.

But Lady Fiora looked uncertain. “It might seem as though you prefer him to your other suitors,” she said.

“Suitors?” Aurora echoed. “No, no, he’s leaving for Ulstead, as you yourself told me.”

For a moment, she couldn’t help thinking about the night before and his nervousness. He’d wanted to tell her something even after finding out she knew about his going back to Ulstead. And as he’d begun to speak, before her godmother arrived, she’d been afraid that maybe he was going to tell her about something awful. Something worse than leaving. What if he anticipated being busy with his studies and wanted to warn her that he would no longer have time for her? What if he no longer even wished to keep her as a distant friend?

Perhaps Maleficent was right to worry. If the thought of losing friendship was this painful, losing love must be terrible.

Lady Sybil looked as disappointed as Aurora felt. “I suppose you could choose an elder statesman. Dancing with someone like that could offend no one, but it does seem very dull.”

Opening the dancing with someone like the fusty Lord Ortolan would be awful.

“Perhaps I just shouldn’t dance at all,” Aurora said, but the girls immediately disabused her of that notion.

“Oh, you must dance!” Lady Sybil said. “If you don’t, it will be as though you’re saying you don’t approve of it. No one will dance if you don’t.”

“I think my brother could be helpful,” said Lady Fiora. “Surely no one would think it was exceptional if you walked out with someone from your own land, someone whose family has been loyal for so long. And you know he’s the height of elegance.”

Aurora thought of the cold iron necklace. “I don’t think—” At that moment, her aunts flew into the room in their colorful bright gowns.

“Aurora!” said Knotgrass. “We would like your thoughts on some garlands.”

“Yes,” said Thistlewit. “I prefer daisies, but—”

“Bluebells would be better,” said Flittle.

“Everyone likes peonies,” insisted Knotgrass.

“So you see, my dear,” said Thistlewit, “you must decide. We wish to drape your festival in flowers. Though it will be hard work to conjure so many petals, you know there’s nothing we won’t do for your happiness.”

“Well, very little,” said Flittle.

“Only a few things,” Knotgrass put in.

Aurora grinned at them as they bickered. They could be silly and sometimes selfish, but they were always also her own dear aunts. “All those flowers are lovely. Let’s have all of them!”

“Delightful!” said Knotgrass. “But are you sure you wouldn’t prefer just peonies?”

Lady Sabine and Lady Sybil stared at the pixies hovering in place by the buzzing of their bright wings. They appeared thrilled to meet Aurora’s aunts.

“We were just discussing my first partner for the dancing,” said Aurora to Flittle. “Who do you think it ought to be, Auntie?”

“As I was saying—” began Lady Fiora, frowning.

“A contest!” said Flittle. “Let someone win your hand.”

Lady Sybil and Lady Sabine began praising the little faerie’s ingenuity. Flittle appeared immensely flattered by the attention, while the other two pixies grew more and more annoyed.

“I might have said the same thing,” said Knotgrass.

“You didn’t, though, did you?” teased Thistlewit.

Lady Fiora looked speculative. “I suppose…no one could be offended if we have a contest among your people for the honor of leading you onto the floor for the first dance. And you did say you wanted games, my queen.”

There really could be no objection to that, Aurora thought. It might even be fun.

“It’s brilliant,” she said, giving Flittle a hug, surprising the faerie. “Now we’ve only to think of what sort of contest we should have.”

“Not a game of chance,” said Lady Sybil. “Too chancy.”

“A riddle contest,” Aurora declared. A contest of cleverness would please the faeries—and if she had any other reason for choosing that particular skill, she never would have admitted it, even to herself.

The twins clapped their hands, delighted.

“Perfect,” said Lady Sabine. “Now it’s just a question of when to hold it!”

“Now, of course,” said Lady Fiora. “Why not? We can assemble all the likely gentlemen. It will be a good game to while away the afternoon.”

But the more Aurora considered that, the more she disliked the idea of the Fair Folk and the villagers being excluded. “The riddle contest should be part of the festival itself,” she said. “Peasant or noble, faerie or human, anyone with the will and the wit can open the dancing with me.”

Lady Fiora looked appalled. “B-but you could wind up standing up with someone loathsome. Or filthy. Or who reeks of onion and cabbages.” She held her pretty little nose.

“So long as they’re very good at riddles,” Aurora agreed, “and don’t mind my stepping on their toes.”