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edenfallingPart 1
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Beauty, part 2
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Ricky:
Ricky rode into Tarna at the start of harvest, tired, dusty, slightly battered from a scuffle with bandits in Nevais, and alight with anticipation and the need to see Grace. He passed near a minor castle on the border and found himself delayed for several days while the local baron sent messengers to Sahill to confirm his identity. Then he was allowed into Tarna, with two lightly armed escorts sent to watch him and his guards.
"You're the prince of Sahill, then?" one of them asked as they rode over the castle drawbridge. "The one who's to marry Princess Grace?"
"Yes," Ricky said.
The escort looked him up and down, skeptically. "No offense meant, your highness, but the princess could do a lot better than you."
Ricky shrugged, letting himself roll with the motion as it tugged his misaligned shoulders out of balance. "There's no denying my appearance, but my father's subjects have been telling me the opposite since spring. As I see it, Grace and I each have our problems; we suit each other."
"Then you haven't heard?" the second escort asked, sounding startled.
Ricky and his squire exchanged a puzzled glance. "We've been traveling to the Dawnfinger Mountains and back," Ricky said. "Heard what?"
"Princess Grace -- her faery curse is broken!"
"Since high summer," the first escort added. "Some of the lords want the king to declare her the heir instead of Princess Hope, and break her engagement to you. Others want to renegotiate the marriage treaty, and a third group wants to cast her out since nobody knows if she might make other magic fail."
"Oh." Ricky felt his heart sink into his gut and roil around. Grace's miscast blessing was broken? The only way that could happen was if he -- or possibly Hope -- wished on his heart's desire to share his faery blessing with her. He was certain Hope hadn't made a wish like that; he wasn't sure she saw Grace as a person, let alone someone to help, or who could help her.
This was his fault. He'd turned Grace's life upside down without asking, and she had no idea what was happening to her.
On the other hand, all he'd done was broken a curse.
Perhaps she wouldn't mind too much?
Ricky gathered his courage and began to rehearse explanations, hoping that Grace would understand the situation and anchor the magic before they lost their chance forever.
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They reached the royal city two days later -- the Tarnish escorts had firm ideas about the proper pace of their journey, and had refused to speed up to humor a foreign prince -- and Ricky found himself further delayed by welcoming ceremonies and a lavish formal supper. He was seated at the king's left hand, which was flattering, but which also kept him just far enough from Grace that he couldn't speak privately to her.
He settled for studying her.
Grace talked more than he remembered from his previous visit, but she still didn't smile much in public. She didn't draw into herself when men paid her compliments, but she still didn't seem to welcome them. Her eyes didn't crinkle as she tried to puzzle her way through conversations; instead, they narrowed as she held a polite argument with a young lord from Nevais. Her dress covered every inch of skin, from her neck to her wrists to her ankles, and her hair was tied back in a severe knot, as if she were trying to minimize her beauty, yet she shone almost more than he remembered. Her new confidence made up the difference.
Ricky kept one ear tuned to the king's voice and absently evaded questions about his journey and the purpose of his visit. Inwardly he drummed his fingers, tapped his heels, and gritted his teeth until the endless meal was finished and Grace rose from her chair.
Ricky hopped to his feet and swept an elaborate bow. "Princess Grace, may I have the pleasure of escorting you this evening?"
Grace raised her eyebrows, but nodded. Ricky hurried around the high table and offered his hand. He knew they made an odd picture -- the tall, elegant woman and the short, hunchbacked, splay-legged man -- but he didn't care. He just wanted to walk in Grace's garden so he could explain what he'd done.
"How are the gardens?" he asked as they exited the great hall, her hand tucked loosely over his forearm.
"Blossoming," Grace said. "Some of the roses are dying -- a fungus got at their roots over the winter -- but the other ornamentals are flourishing. The kitchen gardens are doing well, despite the usual problems with caterpillars and other insects, and the vineyards promise a good year." She looked sideways and down to meet his eyes. "Ricky, why are you here? I didn't expect you until next spring."
Ricky cleared his throat. "Yes, well, I didn't expect to be here myself, not when I left. However..." He hummed, all his tentative speeches flying from his mind now that he had to deliver them to the woman whose life he'd turned upside-down. "Um."
"This sounds like it might be complicated," Grace said dryly. "Wait a moment. We'll go to the fountain, and no one will be able to overhear."
She led him through the cool, twilit gardens until they reached the fountain where they'd first talked. Grace sat on the marble rim and looked expectantly at Ricky. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked at his toes.
"I accidentally broke your curse," he said. He held up a hand. "Don't say anything -- let me finish. You see, I wanted to help you, and I looked for diseases that might cause stupidity, and then I heard the story of your faery blessing, and Hope's. They tell the story of the two princesses of Tarna, each of whom has what the other wants -- did you know that? Um. Anyway, it occurred to me that my faery blessing is remarkably similar to Hope's, so you and I were in the same position that you and she were. Then it occurred to me that it might be possible to share faery blessings."
The words were tumbling out like a waterfall now, and Ricky had no hope of stopping them, not even as Grace's eyes narrowed. "I went to the Dawnfinger Mountains and visited the faery godmother -- her name is Iris, did you know? -- and she said it should be possible to share faery blessings, if we wished on our hearts' desires. So I could give you intelligence--"
"And I could give you stupidity?" Grace broke in. "Never!"
"No, no, not stupidity!" Ricky babbled. "You see, your curse is phrased like this: 'She'll be as stupid as she is beautiful.' Your beauty is linked into the faery magic, so you can share that instead." He ground to a halt, suddenly embarrassed. "Um. It's not that I mind my appearance -- I'm used to it -- but Iris says that the magic has to balance. If only one person shares his or her blessing, it only lasts a year; the gift has to be returned to be permanent. And you can't try a second time with the same person."
He looked back down at his toes. "I meant to tell you first, but I seem to have wished on my heart's desire by accident. So now either you share your gift with me, before midsummer next year, or you persuade Hope to share her intelligence with you in return for beauty. I understand if you'd rather share with her. But I think you'd have to wait until next year anyway, to make sure her blessing doesn't get tangled with mine."
Grace was silent for a long, sickening minute. Then she brushed a stray twig into the fountain and spoke to the ripples in the water. "Thank you for telling me. I'll have to think before I give you an answer."
Ricky's heart sank through the soles of his feet and puddled on the ground. But he nodded; it was no more than he deserved, he supposed, for the whirlwind upset he must have caused in Grace's life. "Shall I escort you to your room?" he asked, starting to offer his hand.
"No," said Grace. She stood and took a half step toward the castle. "I'll have a servant escort you to yours."
Ricky sat on the fountain's rim, despondent.
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Grace:
She sent a footman to deal with Ricky, and then borrowed a free-standing full length mirror from one of the court ladies. The woman offered to call a servant to carry it for her, but Grace waved off the help and lugged the heavy glass and wood contraption down three corridors and up a wide staircase to her room.
She set the mirror against the wall and looked at herself.
Beauty. What earthly good was beauty? What good had it ever done her? Beauty had brought a curse on her and never paid any compensation.
If Hope wanted Grace's beauty, she could have it.
Grace threw her dressing gown over the mirror and turned it to face the wall. Then she opened her window and walked onto the balcony, to look over the gardens and her fountain. Ricky had wished on his heart's desire to share his faery blessing with her. Now she had the rest of a year -- not quite eleven months -- to return the gift, to convince Hope to share faery magic instead, or to let everything go back to the way it used to be, when she was stupid.
The way to make everyone happy would be to wait until Ricky's gift faded, and then share blessings with Hope. That way she would be able to think, and Hope would be beautiful -- the way Grace now realized her sister had always wanted to be. Ricky didn't need a gift of beauty. He was fine the way he was.
Grace frowned suddenly, and crossed her arms against a night breeze. She hadn't realized how much she hated being stupid until she could think properly. What if Ricky hated being ugly? Was that why he'd made the wish, even though he said he hadn't meant to?
She liked Ricky more than she liked Hope.
On the other hand... Grace's frown deepened. Why had Ricky cared enough to spend weeks traveling to the Dawnfinger Mountains, chasing an idea that was little more than a wild guess? He'd asked her to marry him; that meant he'd liked her even when she was stupid. If that was true, then why had he wanted so badly to change her?
"Hope is right; people make no sense," she said to the ivy that climbed up the stones and twined around the balcony rail. "Even when I'm not stupid, I still don't understand anything."
Maybe she didn't want to understand anything. Maybe understanding would hurt.
Grace shut the window and went to bed. She slept badly.
---------------
In the morning, she realized that she couldn't make a choice yet. First, she had to know what Hope and Ricky wanted, and why Ricky had changed her.
Grace found herself avoiding Ricky's eyes at breakfast. He fidgeted, flushed, and left without finishing his bread.
"You ought to break off the engagement," Hope said across the table to Grace, just loud enough for Ricky to hear as he walked through the doorway. "You can do much better than such an ugly little man, with such a quaint little kingdom."
Ricky steps faltered for a moment before he turned out of sight.
Hope smiled.
Grace waited five minutes to calm herself and let Hope drift to other topics. Then she rose from her seat, walked around the high table, and held out her hand to her sister. "We barely ever talk," she said, "and in less than a year, I'll leave Tarna. I'd like to know you better before we separate."
Hope raised an eyebrow, but she folded her napkin and followed Grace out of the great hall and into the gardens. Grace settled on the rim of her fountain, tucking her skirts around her ankles. Hope touched a finger to the damp stone, sniffed, and remained standing.
"What do you really want?" Hope asked.
"Your opinion," Grace said. "Hear me out, please." She explained how her fairy blessing of stupidity was apparently linked to her appearance -- to her beauty -- and how fairy blessings could be shared. "You and Ricky both have a blessing of intelligence, which counters my curse of slowness. But in order to make the magic permanent, the blessings have to be shared in both directions, which means I can make one of you beautiful. I can share with Ricky now, since he's already lent me his blessing, or I can wait until his wears off next summer, and then trade with you instead."
Grace looked down at the rippling water in the fountain basin and stirred it with a finger. "I don't see why either of you would want my blessing, but I can't go back to being stupid, not now that I know what I was missing. So I need to know if you can wish on your heart's desire to share your blessing with me, or if I should trade with Ricky now."
Hope made a peculiar, strangled noise, almost as if she were choking. Grace looked up, worried, and found her sister caught halfway between laughter and a snarl.
"If I can wish on my heart's desire to be beautiful?" Hope asked. "You want to know if I can wish that? Idiot! What else do you think I've ever wanted?"
"But--" said Grace.
"Don't say anything," Hope snapped. "I can't talk to you now. You stay here in your gardens and do whatever it is you do, and I'll go think."
"When will--?"
Hope waved off the question. "You don't need my answer for nearly a year. It's your turn to wait and be frustrated -- I think learning patience will be good for you." She spun and strode back into the castle, walking too fast and hard for her usual elegance.
Grace watched Hope retreat and wondered if she'd ever known her sister.
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Hope:
She watched Prince Richard dance anxiously around her sister; watched Grace mouth meaningless pleasantries and retreat to her gardens, her brow furrowed; watched the queen fuss and worry and make plans for a wedding that might never come to pass; watched the king weigh the situation behind secretive eyes and pin her with a measuring, disappointed stare; and felt like screaming.
She didn't scream, of course. Hope knew her position, knew exactly how much of the king's power rested on the willing compliance of his vassals in the game of courtly manners, and had never openly sullied the dignity of her station since Grace's disastrous sixteenth birthday.
She wondered if Grace had the slightest idea of how much the family had sheltered her. They were still sheltering her -- Grace was marrying for affection, while Hope would marry for the best political alliance she and the king could manage. Unless she had a faery's own luck, she'd spend the rest of her life fighting to keep her position as reigning queen rather than let her husband push her aside and seize power for himself.
And now Grace had offered to make Hope beautiful.
Oh, she might not realize it was an offer -- it was couched as a question -- but the very act of asking Hope's opinion meant that Grace thought she was more important than Richard of Sahill. She was more important than Grace's soon-to-be-husband, more important than the man who'd figured out the solution to their mutual lacks!
The offhand kindness burned like acid.
Grace was not supposed to be in a position to do Hope favors. To accept her sister's help -- to admit that she'd been staring the answer to her heart's desire in the face all these years, blind, unknowing...
No.
Those thoughts were unworthy. Hope smoothed her skirts and stepped to her balcony door, peering down through the curtains to where Grace sat on the rim of her favorite fountain. By all rights, Grace should have been helping Hope all along. Grace should have been clear-minded as well as breathtakingly beautiful. Grace should have had two years more experience at court than Hope. Grace should have known the answers to knotty questions, should have whispered hints and secrets to her younger sister, should have overshadowed Hope all unknowing with the spell of her beauty and presence.
Instead, Grace had been an absence, a wound, a wall between Hope and their parents -- more like a foolish pet or a delicate hothouse flower than a sister. Grace had been Hope's responsibility instead of the other way around.
In a way, she still was. It was Hope's choice, after all, that could spell doom on her sister's newfound intelligence. What if she asked Grace to wait and trade blessings with her, and then couldn't muster enough charity to pass on her quickness of mind? She loved Grace, but she didn't like her sister much. She wanted to be beautiful -- wanting and wishing had worn a hollow place in her heart -- but...
Did she deserve Grace's help?
Hope whirled and faced her mirror, studied her reflection like an old enemy. She wasn't ugly, not exactly, but nobody would ever call her more than plain. Her hair was mousy, thin, and lank -- braids and jeweled pins could only disguise so much. Her eyes drooped, her nose was bent and knobby, her lips too thin, her chin too long, her teeth crooked, and her ears uneven against her head. All subtle faults, nothing like Prince Richard's mismatched jester's features, but she was the ugly duckling to Grace's swan.
She wanted, so badly, to be beautiful.
Hope tore the sheet from her bed and threw it over the mirror.
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The next morning, Hope exchanged a conversation of glances and tiny gestures with Grace -- it was still a jolt that Grace understood her now -- and watched Prince Richard trail her sister from the hall. She waited a judicious three minutes, long enough for them to reach that infernal fountain, and then took her leave of the king and queen.
Grace was all tension and angles, Richard's presence ruining the peace of her gardens for her; she smiled as Hope walked down the path toward them. "Ah!" she said, standing abruptly. "Ricky, I have to discuss wedding invitations with my mother. Please let Hope keep you company." She fled, obviously not giving a second's thought to the impression she made on any watchers.
Richard bowed, warily. Hope smiled. "I think, as prospective siblings-in-law, we should get to know each other... especially since we never seemed to find an opportunity to talk when we first met. I'm sure that was an unavoidable accident of timing; I'd hate to think my sister might be marrying a rude or thoughtless man."
"I apologize for any inconvenience I caused," Richard said, sounding even more wary, and also a bit bored. He didn't think much of court manners, did he? Hope couldn't blame him for his distaste -- they were tiresome and restrictive -- but she doubted he'd last long ruling a kingdom much larger than Sahill. He didn't have the edge.
"I accept. Grace, however, may not." Richard winced, and Hope nodded; yes, her sister hadn't forgiven him for turning her life upside-down, much though she might like the results. "According to the king my father, before making important decisions, a person should learn the desires of all the involved parties," Hope continued. Richard winced again. "Therefore, as Grace has asked me whether I'm willing and able to trade blessings with her, I thought I should speak to you. You, after all, have already made such a wish, and presumably know what it entails. And you stand to benefit as much as I do if Grace chooses to fix your appearance instead. So. Talk."
Richard's face had grown steadily more dour through Hope's speech. "I didn't know I was making a wish on my heart's desire," he said glumly. "I was happy that I'd found a way around Grace's curse, and I suppose I was so happy that I started thinking of the trade as something already done. All I did was wish her well -- I wanted her to be intelligent, and happy."
Then Richard pinned Hope with a challenging stare of his own; Hope was abruptly aware that though she was taller, he was older, male, and well-muscled despite his awkward limbs. She clasped her hands, the picture of nonchalance, and refused to blink. "I don't care about my looks -- I've had eighteen years to learn to live with them, and I get on well enough," Richard said, his mismatched eyes boring into hers. "All I care about is Grace. I've never seen you make a single effort to make her smile, or to compliment her -- you have jewels and steel where your heart should be. What makes you think you could care enough to share something as personal as a faery blessing?"
Hope reminded herself that she was a princess, the heir of Tarna, and above losing her temper over anything Richard said. Her breath hissed between her teeth, and she pressed her hands against the satin of her skirts, but she held her composure.
"I," she said icily, "am Grace's sister. Since I was old enough to talk, I've explained things when she was confused. I've kept attention away from her. I persuaded the queen to let her grub about in the gardens instead of learning to flirt and flatter men. I told the king my father to accept your marriage proposal, because you're the only chance I saw for her to have any sort of life as a person instead of an ornamental baby farm. I may not be good at smiles and sweet words, but don't you ever say I don't care about my sister!"
Hope marched back into the castle and spent the next several hours planning a military campaign to conquer Sahill. It didn't soothe her as much as she'd hoped.
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Hope waited two more days before she went to see Grace in the evening. Her sister was in her small room, working at her embroidery frame. Hope couldn't make much sense of the pattern -- the leaf and flower shapes were oddly distorted, not at all like Grace's usual style -- but she liked the bright, jewel-like colors.
"Have you asked Prince Richard why he wanted to change you?" she began with no preamble.
Grace pricked her finger and pulled her hand aside so she wouldn't bleed on her work. "No," she said. "I don't want to know."
"You don't have excuses for being stupid anymore," Hope said. "I only see two reasons. First, he didn't think you were good enough, or didn't think he could stand explaining everything to you and listening to your endless repetition for the rest of his life. Second, he realized you were cursed and wanted to help you. The real answer is probably somewhere in between... but either way, do you want to marry someone who claimed to like you as you were and then changed you to suit himself?"
Grace sat very still, her needle pressed between bloodless fingers. "I don't care," she said, after a tense silence. "I feel as if I'd been blind all my life, but now I can see -- even if Ricky didn't start out with pure motives, he did find a way around the faery magic, and he did help me. That's more than you ever managed."
"True," Hope acknowledged. "Then again, he didn't grow up with you -- he hadn't had years to get used to your limitations. I suppose running up against them so suddenly might push even the best of men to hunt for loopholes."
Grace smiled, softly, and returned to her needlework, her wounded finger held firmly outside the embroidery frame. "I'm not listening to you anymore. You're trying to make me hate Ricky, and it won't work. I like him. I'm going to marry him, be queen of Sahill, and live happily ever after. Stop provoking me."
Hope hid a smile; Grace was still terribly naïve. She'd been trying to force her sister to stop waffling -- whether she ended up rejecting Richard or not was beside the point, so long as she made a choice. "You'll be a great queen, and I'll be sad and alone, right?" she said lightly. "Good for you."
Now Grace looked up and said, earnestly, "You don't have to be alone, Hope. You can find someone who cares about you for your heart, not just your position. If I found Ricky and he found a way around my curse, surely you can find a way to be happy." She paused, uncertainty written clearly across her face. "Do you want to exchange blessings next summer? I don't know why you want to be pretty -- I hate the way people look at me -- but if that will help..."
Suddenly Hope found that she'd already made her own decision.
"No," she told her sister. "I don't need your help. I never have. Maybe if you hadn't been cursed, I would have learned to depend on you, but I can stand on my own. Make Richard handsome, and call it a wedding present from me."
She turned, not wanting to show how her eyes were prickling, and hurried to the door.
"You don't have to be alone forever," Grace said before Hope could escape into the corridor. "Even if you don't need to lean on me, I'll be waiting if you ever want my help. All you have to do is ask. That's what sisters are supposed to do, and now I can hold up my end."
Hope closed her eyes for a long moment. "Thank you." She left before she lost her resolve.
Ten minutes later, she realized that Grace had, in fact, been embroidering a garden -- a garden where all the leaves were swords and the flower petals were made of jewels. Jewels and steel in place of her heart, like Richard had said, but jewels and steel worked into something alive, something that Grace loved.
Hope pulled a jeweled pin from her hair and studied it, testing the sharp point against her skin. Maybe she didn't have to stand alone like a naked sword -- just because she didn't need Grace's love didn't mean she had to reject her sister's offer.
Maybe she didn't need to be beautiful. She had more than enough other blessings, if she opened her eyes to see.
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Grace:
She went to bed, caught between sorrow for Hope and joy for herself and Ricky. She dreamed that one day they met again, when they were all old and silver-haired. She and Ricky had children and grandchildren, hard-earned wisdom, and laugh wrinkles around their eyes and mouths. Hope was slim and regal, solitary despite her eventual marriage and her two sons, but she was known as the greatest monarch to rule Tarna in generations, and contentment lurked in the depths of her eyes.
It wasn't perfect happiness, but it was enough.
When she woke, Grace washed herself quickly, threw on the dress her maid laid out, and then ran through the castle to Ricky's guest suite. Talking with Hope had cleared her mind, and she had to apologize for doubting him and pushing him away. For the first time in her life, she wanted to kiss a man. Even if Ricky's eyes went dark, she wouldn't mind -- she knew he cared about more than her body.
She knocked on his door and waited for his guards or the castle servants to let her in.
Confused sounds drifted through the walls -- strained voices, and the thump of something heavy and metallic hitting a stone wall. Grace knocked again and set her hand on the latch, ready to hurry in and make certain nothing had happened to Ricky.
Then a stranger opened the door. "Grace!" he said. "Did you make a wish last night?"
He acted as though he knew her, but she had never seen this man in her life. He was exactly her height, and wearing a too-large guard's uniform that sagged on his shoulders and around his waist. His face was pleasant, his body straight and well-formed, and his hands long and elegant.
"Who--" Grace began.
Then she stopped and looked more closely. His eyes -- a little wild, a little sad -- were mismatched. The right was brown, but the left was a brilliant green.
"Ricky?"
He smiled, tension bleeding from his strangely untwisted shoulders. "Yes. I woke up like this and scared ten years off my squire when he saw me. Did you make a wish? No, that's a silly question -- you must have made a wish -- there's no other explanation." Then he waved his hand in a sharp motion, as if reining in his mouth. "Please excuse me; I'm not unhappy, you know, but it's disconcerting not to recognize myself in the mirror. Um. Does this mean...?"
Grace smiled. "Yes. I talked to Hope last night, and we reached an understanding. I like you -- love you, I suppose -- and I want to spend the rest of my life getting to know you better. I don't care why you started looking for a loophole in my curse, because I'm sure the magic wouldn't have worked unless you cared about me. I still want to marry you, and I promise to do my best to be a worthy queen of Sahill."
Ricky flushed and ran a hand through his newly obedient hair. "Um. About that. Don't worry so much about being a worthy queen -- that's not why I asked you to marry me. Sahill doesn't need all that much management in any case... but the castle gardens definitely need someone to care for them."
"Then I'll have to show you how to garden," Grace said, and linked her hand with his. "Right now, I think we should fetch a tailor and get you some new clothes."
"Oh, thank you," Ricky said, and kissed her.
And they lived happily ever after.
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The End
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Beauty, part 2
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Ricky:
Ricky rode into Tarna at the start of harvest, tired, dusty, slightly battered from a scuffle with bandits in Nevais, and alight with anticipation and the need to see Grace. He passed near a minor castle on the border and found himself delayed for several days while the local baron sent messengers to Sahill to confirm his identity. Then he was allowed into Tarna, with two lightly armed escorts sent to watch him and his guards.
"You're the prince of Sahill, then?" one of them asked as they rode over the castle drawbridge. "The one who's to marry Princess Grace?"
"Yes," Ricky said.
The escort looked him up and down, skeptically. "No offense meant, your highness, but the princess could do a lot better than you."
Ricky shrugged, letting himself roll with the motion as it tugged his misaligned shoulders out of balance. "There's no denying my appearance, but my father's subjects have been telling me the opposite since spring. As I see it, Grace and I each have our problems; we suit each other."
"Then you haven't heard?" the second escort asked, sounding startled.
Ricky and his squire exchanged a puzzled glance. "We've been traveling to the Dawnfinger Mountains and back," Ricky said. "Heard what?"
"Princess Grace -- her faery curse is broken!"
"Since high summer," the first escort added. "Some of the lords want the king to declare her the heir instead of Princess Hope, and break her engagement to you. Others want to renegotiate the marriage treaty, and a third group wants to cast her out since nobody knows if she might make other magic fail."
"Oh." Ricky felt his heart sink into his gut and roil around. Grace's miscast blessing was broken? The only way that could happen was if he -- or possibly Hope -- wished on his heart's desire to share his faery blessing with her. He was certain Hope hadn't made a wish like that; he wasn't sure she saw Grace as a person, let alone someone to help, or who could help her.
This was his fault. He'd turned Grace's life upside down without asking, and she had no idea what was happening to her.
On the other hand, all he'd done was broken a curse.
Perhaps she wouldn't mind too much?
Ricky gathered his courage and began to rehearse explanations, hoping that Grace would understand the situation and anchor the magic before they lost their chance forever.
---------------
They reached the royal city two days later -- the Tarnish escorts had firm ideas about the proper pace of their journey, and had refused to speed up to humor a foreign prince -- and Ricky found himself further delayed by welcoming ceremonies and a lavish formal supper. He was seated at the king's left hand, which was flattering, but which also kept him just far enough from Grace that he couldn't speak privately to her.
He settled for studying her.
Grace talked more than he remembered from his previous visit, but she still didn't smile much in public. She didn't draw into herself when men paid her compliments, but she still didn't seem to welcome them. Her eyes didn't crinkle as she tried to puzzle her way through conversations; instead, they narrowed as she held a polite argument with a young lord from Nevais. Her dress covered every inch of skin, from her neck to her wrists to her ankles, and her hair was tied back in a severe knot, as if she were trying to minimize her beauty, yet she shone almost more than he remembered. Her new confidence made up the difference.
Ricky kept one ear tuned to the king's voice and absently evaded questions about his journey and the purpose of his visit. Inwardly he drummed his fingers, tapped his heels, and gritted his teeth until the endless meal was finished and Grace rose from her chair.
Ricky hopped to his feet and swept an elaborate bow. "Princess Grace, may I have the pleasure of escorting you this evening?"
Grace raised her eyebrows, but nodded. Ricky hurried around the high table and offered his hand. He knew they made an odd picture -- the tall, elegant woman and the short, hunchbacked, splay-legged man -- but he didn't care. He just wanted to walk in Grace's garden so he could explain what he'd done.
"How are the gardens?" he asked as they exited the great hall, her hand tucked loosely over his forearm.
"Blossoming," Grace said. "Some of the roses are dying -- a fungus got at their roots over the winter -- but the other ornamentals are flourishing. The kitchen gardens are doing well, despite the usual problems with caterpillars and other insects, and the vineyards promise a good year." She looked sideways and down to meet his eyes. "Ricky, why are you here? I didn't expect you until next spring."
Ricky cleared his throat. "Yes, well, I didn't expect to be here myself, not when I left. However..." He hummed, all his tentative speeches flying from his mind now that he had to deliver them to the woman whose life he'd turned upside-down. "Um."
"This sounds like it might be complicated," Grace said dryly. "Wait a moment. We'll go to the fountain, and no one will be able to overhear."
She led him through the cool, twilit gardens until they reached the fountain where they'd first talked. Grace sat on the marble rim and looked expectantly at Ricky. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked at his toes.
"I accidentally broke your curse," he said. He held up a hand. "Don't say anything -- let me finish. You see, I wanted to help you, and I looked for diseases that might cause stupidity, and then I heard the story of your faery blessing, and Hope's. They tell the story of the two princesses of Tarna, each of whom has what the other wants -- did you know that? Um. Anyway, it occurred to me that my faery blessing is remarkably similar to Hope's, so you and I were in the same position that you and she were. Then it occurred to me that it might be possible to share faery blessings."
The words were tumbling out like a waterfall now, and Ricky had no hope of stopping them, not even as Grace's eyes narrowed. "I went to the Dawnfinger Mountains and visited the faery godmother -- her name is Iris, did you know? -- and she said it should be possible to share faery blessings, if we wished on our hearts' desires. So I could give you intelligence--"
"And I could give you stupidity?" Grace broke in. "Never!"
"No, no, not stupidity!" Ricky babbled. "You see, your curse is phrased like this: 'She'll be as stupid as she is beautiful.' Your beauty is linked into the faery magic, so you can share that instead." He ground to a halt, suddenly embarrassed. "Um. It's not that I mind my appearance -- I'm used to it -- but Iris says that the magic has to balance. If only one person shares his or her blessing, it only lasts a year; the gift has to be returned to be permanent. And you can't try a second time with the same person."
He looked back down at his toes. "I meant to tell you first, but I seem to have wished on my heart's desire by accident. So now either you share your gift with me, before midsummer next year, or you persuade Hope to share her intelligence with you in return for beauty. I understand if you'd rather share with her. But I think you'd have to wait until next year anyway, to make sure her blessing doesn't get tangled with mine."
Grace was silent for a long, sickening minute. Then she brushed a stray twig into the fountain and spoke to the ripples in the water. "Thank you for telling me. I'll have to think before I give you an answer."
Ricky's heart sank through the soles of his feet and puddled on the ground. But he nodded; it was no more than he deserved, he supposed, for the whirlwind upset he must have caused in Grace's life. "Shall I escort you to your room?" he asked, starting to offer his hand.
"No," said Grace. She stood and took a half step toward the castle. "I'll have a servant escort you to yours."
Ricky sat on the fountain's rim, despondent.
---------------------------------------------
Grace:
She sent a footman to deal with Ricky, and then borrowed a free-standing full length mirror from one of the court ladies. The woman offered to call a servant to carry it for her, but Grace waved off the help and lugged the heavy glass and wood contraption down three corridors and up a wide staircase to her room.
She set the mirror against the wall and looked at herself.
Beauty. What earthly good was beauty? What good had it ever done her? Beauty had brought a curse on her and never paid any compensation.
If Hope wanted Grace's beauty, she could have it.
Grace threw her dressing gown over the mirror and turned it to face the wall. Then she opened her window and walked onto the balcony, to look over the gardens and her fountain. Ricky had wished on his heart's desire to share his faery blessing with her. Now she had the rest of a year -- not quite eleven months -- to return the gift, to convince Hope to share faery magic instead, or to let everything go back to the way it used to be, when she was stupid.
The way to make everyone happy would be to wait until Ricky's gift faded, and then share blessings with Hope. That way she would be able to think, and Hope would be beautiful -- the way Grace now realized her sister had always wanted to be. Ricky didn't need a gift of beauty. He was fine the way he was.
Grace frowned suddenly, and crossed her arms against a night breeze. She hadn't realized how much she hated being stupid until she could think properly. What if Ricky hated being ugly? Was that why he'd made the wish, even though he said he hadn't meant to?
She liked Ricky more than she liked Hope.
On the other hand... Grace's frown deepened. Why had Ricky cared enough to spend weeks traveling to the Dawnfinger Mountains, chasing an idea that was little more than a wild guess? He'd asked her to marry him; that meant he'd liked her even when she was stupid. If that was true, then why had he wanted so badly to change her?
"Hope is right; people make no sense," she said to the ivy that climbed up the stones and twined around the balcony rail. "Even when I'm not stupid, I still don't understand anything."
Maybe she didn't want to understand anything. Maybe understanding would hurt.
Grace shut the window and went to bed. She slept badly.
---------------
In the morning, she realized that she couldn't make a choice yet. First, she had to know what Hope and Ricky wanted, and why Ricky had changed her.
Grace found herself avoiding Ricky's eyes at breakfast. He fidgeted, flushed, and left without finishing his bread.
"You ought to break off the engagement," Hope said across the table to Grace, just loud enough for Ricky to hear as he walked through the doorway. "You can do much better than such an ugly little man, with such a quaint little kingdom."
Ricky steps faltered for a moment before he turned out of sight.
Hope smiled.
Grace waited five minutes to calm herself and let Hope drift to other topics. Then she rose from her seat, walked around the high table, and held out her hand to her sister. "We barely ever talk," she said, "and in less than a year, I'll leave Tarna. I'd like to know you better before we separate."
Hope raised an eyebrow, but she folded her napkin and followed Grace out of the great hall and into the gardens. Grace settled on the rim of her fountain, tucking her skirts around her ankles. Hope touched a finger to the damp stone, sniffed, and remained standing.
"What do you really want?" Hope asked.
"Your opinion," Grace said. "Hear me out, please." She explained how her fairy blessing of stupidity was apparently linked to her appearance -- to her beauty -- and how fairy blessings could be shared. "You and Ricky both have a blessing of intelligence, which counters my curse of slowness. But in order to make the magic permanent, the blessings have to be shared in both directions, which means I can make one of you beautiful. I can share with Ricky now, since he's already lent me his blessing, or I can wait until his wears off next summer, and then trade with you instead."
Grace looked down at the rippling water in the fountain basin and stirred it with a finger. "I don't see why either of you would want my blessing, but I can't go back to being stupid, not now that I know what I was missing. So I need to know if you can wish on your heart's desire to share your blessing with me, or if I should trade with Ricky now."
Hope made a peculiar, strangled noise, almost as if she were choking. Grace looked up, worried, and found her sister caught halfway between laughter and a snarl.
"If I can wish on my heart's desire to be beautiful?" Hope asked. "You want to know if I can wish that? Idiot! What else do you think I've ever wanted?"
"But--" said Grace.
"Don't say anything," Hope snapped. "I can't talk to you now. You stay here in your gardens and do whatever it is you do, and I'll go think."
"When will--?"
Hope waved off the question. "You don't need my answer for nearly a year. It's your turn to wait and be frustrated -- I think learning patience will be good for you." She spun and strode back into the castle, walking too fast and hard for her usual elegance.
Grace watched Hope retreat and wondered if she'd ever known her sister.
---------------------------------------------
Hope:
She watched Prince Richard dance anxiously around her sister; watched Grace mouth meaningless pleasantries and retreat to her gardens, her brow furrowed; watched the queen fuss and worry and make plans for a wedding that might never come to pass; watched the king weigh the situation behind secretive eyes and pin her with a measuring, disappointed stare; and felt like screaming.
She didn't scream, of course. Hope knew her position, knew exactly how much of the king's power rested on the willing compliance of his vassals in the game of courtly manners, and had never openly sullied the dignity of her station since Grace's disastrous sixteenth birthday.
She wondered if Grace had the slightest idea of how much the family had sheltered her. They were still sheltering her -- Grace was marrying for affection, while Hope would marry for the best political alliance she and the king could manage. Unless she had a faery's own luck, she'd spend the rest of her life fighting to keep her position as reigning queen rather than let her husband push her aside and seize power for himself.
And now Grace had offered to make Hope beautiful.
Oh, she might not realize it was an offer -- it was couched as a question -- but the very act of asking Hope's opinion meant that Grace thought she was more important than Richard of Sahill. She was more important than Grace's soon-to-be-husband, more important than the man who'd figured out the solution to their mutual lacks!
The offhand kindness burned like acid.
Grace was not supposed to be in a position to do Hope favors. To accept her sister's help -- to admit that she'd been staring the answer to her heart's desire in the face all these years, blind, unknowing...
No.
Those thoughts were unworthy. Hope smoothed her skirts and stepped to her balcony door, peering down through the curtains to where Grace sat on the rim of her favorite fountain. By all rights, Grace should have been helping Hope all along. Grace should have been clear-minded as well as breathtakingly beautiful. Grace should have had two years more experience at court than Hope. Grace should have known the answers to knotty questions, should have whispered hints and secrets to her younger sister, should have overshadowed Hope all unknowing with the spell of her beauty and presence.
Instead, Grace had been an absence, a wound, a wall between Hope and their parents -- more like a foolish pet or a delicate hothouse flower than a sister. Grace had been Hope's responsibility instead of the other way around.
In a way, she still was. It was Hope's choice, after all, that could spell doom on her sister's newfound intelligence. What if she asked Grace to wait and trade blessings with her, and then couldn't muster enough charity to pass on her quickness of mind? She loved Grace, but she didn't like her sister much. She wanted to be beautiful -- wanting and wishing had worn a hollow place in her heart -- but...
Did she deserve Grace's help?
Hope whirled and faced her mirror, studied her reflection like an old enemy. She wasn't ugly, not exactly, but nobody would ever call her more than plain. Her hair was mousy, thin, and lank -- braids and jeweled pins could only disguise so much. Her eyes drooped, her nose was bent and knobby, her lips too thin, her chin too long, her teeth crooked, and her ears uneven against her head. All subtle faults, nothing like Prince Richard's mismatched jester's features, but she was the ugly duckling to Grace's swan.
She wanted, so badly, to be beautiful.
Hope tore the sheet from her bed and threw it over the mirror.
---------------
The next morning, Hope exchanged a conversation of glances and tiny gestures with Grace -- it was still a jolt that Grace understood her now -- and watched Prince Richard trail her sister from the hall. She waited a judicious three minutes, long enough for them to reach that infernal fountain, and then took her leave of the king and queen.
Grace was all tension and angles, Richard's presence ruining the peace of her gardens for her; she smiled as Hope walked down the path toward them. "Ah!" she said, standing abruptly. "Ricky, I have to discuss wedding invitations with my mother. Please let Hope keep you company." She fled, obviously not giving a second's thought to the impression she made on any watchers.
Richard bowed, warily. Hope smiled. "I think, as prospective siblings-in-law, we should get to know each other... especially since we never seemed to find an opportunity to talk when we first met. I'm sure that was an unavoidable accident of timing; I'd hate to think my sister might be marrying a rude or thoughtless man."
"I apologize for any inconvenience I caused," Richard said, sounding even more wary, and also a bit bored. He didn't think much of court manners, did he? Hope couldn't blame him for his distaste -- they were tiresome and restrictive -- but she doubted he'd last long ruling a kingdom much larger than Sahill. He didn't have the edge.
"I accept. Grace, however, may not." Richard winced, and Hope nodded; yes, her sister hadn't forgiven him for turning her life upside-down, much though she might like the results. "According to the king my father, before making important decisions, a person should learn the desires of all the involved parties," Hope continued. Richard winced again. "Therefore, as Grace has asked me whether I'm willing and able to trade blessings with her, I thought I should speak to you. You, after all, have already made such a wish, and presumably know what it entails. And you stand to benefit as much as I do if Grace chooses to fix your appearance instead. So. Talk."
Richard's face had grown steadily more dour through Hope's speech. "I didn't know I was making a wish on my heart's desire," he said glumly. "I was happy that I'd found a way around Grace's curse, and I suppose I was so happy that I started thinking of the trade as something already done. All I did was wish her well -- I wanted her to be intelligent, and happy."
Then Richard pinned Hope with a challenging stare of his own; Hope was abruptly aware that though she was taller, he was older, male, and well-muscled despite his awkward limbs. She clasped her hands, the picture of nonchalance, and refused to blink. "I don't care about my looks -- I've had eighteen years to learn to live with them, and I get on well enough," Richard said, his mismatched eyes boring into hers. "All I care about is Grace. I've never seen you make a single effort to make her smile, or to compliment her -- you have jewels and steel where your heart should be. What makes you think you could care enough to share something as personal as a faery blessing?"
Hope reminded herself that she was a princess, the heir of Tarna, and above losing her temper over anything Richard said. Her breath hissed between her teeth, and she pressed her hands against the satin of her skirts, but she held her composure.
"I," she said icily, "am Grace's sister. Since I was old enough to talk, I've explained things when she was confused. I've kept attention away from her. I persuaded the queen to let her grub about in the gardens instead of learning to flirt and flatter men. I told the king my father to accept your marriage proposal, because you're the only chance I saw for her to have any sort of life as a person instead of an ornamental baby farm. I may not be good at smiles and sweet words, but don't you ever say I don't care about my sister!"
Hope marched back into the castle and spent the next several hours planning a military campaign to conquer Sahill. It didn't soothe her as much as she'd hoped.
---------------
Hope waited two more days before she went to see Grace in the evening. Her sister was in her small room, working at her embroidery frame. Hope couldn't make much sense of the pattern -- the leaf and flower shapes were oddly distorted, not at all like Grace's usual style -- but she liked the bright, jewel-like colors.
"Have you asked Prince Richard why he wanted to change you?" she began with no preamble.
Grace pricked her finger and pulled her hand aside so she wouldn't bleed on her work. "No," she said. "I don't want to know."
"You don't have excuses for being stupid anymore," Hope said. "I only see two reasons. First, he didn't think you were good enough, or didn't think he could stand explaining everything to you and listening to your endless repetition for the rest of his life. Second, he realized you were cursed and wanted to help you. The real answer is probably somewhere in between... but either way, do you want to marry someone who claimed to like you as you were and then changed you to suit himself?"
Grace sat very still, her needle pressed between bloodless fingers. "I don't care," she said, after a tense silence. "I feel as if I'd been blind all my life, but now I can see -- even if Ricky didn't start out with pure motives, he did find a way around the faery magic, and he did help me. That's more than you ever managed."
"True," Hope acknowledged. "Then again, he didn't grow up with you -- he hadn't had years to get used to your limitations. I suppose running up against them so suddenly might push even the best of men to hunt for loopholes."
Grace smiled, softly, and returned to her needlework, her wounded finger held firmly outside the embroidery frame. "I'm not listening to you anymore. You're trying to make me hate Ricky, and it won't work. I like him. I'm going to marry him, be queen of Sahill, and live happily ever after. Stop provoking me."
Hope hid a smile; Grace was still terribly naïve. She'd been trying to force her sister to stop waffling -- whether she ended up rejecting Richard or not was beside the point, so long as she made a choice. "You'll be a great queen, and I'll be sad and alone, right?" she said lightly. "Good for you."
Now Grace looked up and said, earnestly, "You don't have to be alone, Hope. You can find someone who cares about you for your heart, not just your position. If I found Ricky and he found a way around my curse, surely you can find a way to be happy." She paused, uncertainty written clearly across her face. "Do you want to exchange blessings next summer? I don't know why you want to be pretty -- I hate the way people look at me -- but if that will help..."
Suddenly Hope found that she'd already made her own decision.
"No," she told her sister. "I don't need your help. I never have. Maybe if you hadn't been cursed, I would have learned to depend on you, but I can stand on my own. Make Richard handsome, and call it a wedding present from me."
She turned, not wanting to show how her eyes were prickling, and hurried to the door.
"You don't have to be alone forever," Grace said before Hope could escape into the corridor. "Even if you don't need to lean on me, I'll be waiting if you ever want my help. All you have to do is ask. That's what sisters are supposed to do, and now I can hold up my end."
Hope closed her eyes for a long moment. "Thank you." She left before she lost her resolve.
Ten minutes later, she realized that Grace had, in fact, been embroidering a garden -- a garden where all the leaves were swords and the flower petals were made of jewels. Jewels and steel in place of her heart, like Richard had said, but jewels and steel worked into something alive, something that Grace loved.
Hope pulled a jeweled pin from her hair and studied it, testing the sharp point against her skin. Maybe she didn't have to stand alone like a naked sword -- just because she didn't need Grace's love didn't mean she had to reject her sister's offer.
Maybe she didn't need to be beautiful. She had more than enough other blessings, if she opened her eyes to see.
---------------------------------------------
Grace:
She went to bed, caught between sorrow for Hope and joy for herself and Ricky. She dreamed that one day they met again, when they were all old and silver-haired. She and Ricky had children and grandchildren, hard-earned wisdom, and laugh wrinkles around their eyes and mouths. Hope was slim and regal, solitary despite her eventual marriage and her two sons, but she was known as the greatest monarch to rule Tarna in generations, and contentment lurked in the depths of her eyes.
It wasn't perfect happiness, but it was enough.
When she woke, Grace washed herself quickly, threw on the dress her maid laid out, and then ran through the castle to Ricky's guest suite. Talking with Hope had cleared her mind, and she had to apologize for doubting him and pushing him away. For the first time in her life, she wanted to kiss a man. Even if Ricky's eyes went dark, she wouldn't mind -- she knew he cared about more than her body.
She knocked on his door and waited for his guards or the castle servants to let her in.
Confused sounds drifted through the walls -- strained voices, and the thump of something heavy and metallic hitting a stone wall. Grace knocked again and set her hand on the latch, ready to hurry in and make certain nothing had happened to Ricky.
Then a stranger opened the door. "Grace!" he said. "Did you make a wish last night?"
He acted as though he knew her, but she had never seen this man in her life. He was exactly her height, and wearing a too-large guard's uniform that sagged on his shoulders and around his waist. His face was pleasant, his body straight and well-formed, and his hands long and elegant.
"Who--" Grace began.
Then she stopped and looked more closely. His eyes -- a little wild, a little sad -- were mismatched. The right was brown, but the left was a brilliant green.
"Ricky?"
He smiled, tension bleeding from his strangely untwisted shoulders. "Yes. I woke up like this and scared ten years off my squire when he saw me. Did you make a wish? No, that's a silly question -- you must have made a wish -- there's no other explanation." Then he waved his hand in a sharp motion, as if reining in his mouth. "Please excuse me; I'm not unhappy, you know, but it's disconcerting not to recognize myself in the mirror. Um. Does this mean...?"
Grace smiled. "Yes. I talked to Hope last night, and we reached an understanding. I like you -- love you, I suppose -- and I want to spend the rest of my life getting to know you better. I don't care why you started looking for a loophole in my curse, because I'm sure the magic wouldn't have worked unless you cared about me. I still want to marry you, and I promise to do my best to be a worthy queen of Sahill."
Ricky flushed and ran a hand through his newly obedient hair. "Um. About that. Don't worry so much about being a worthy queen -- that's not why I asked you to marry me. Sahill doesn't need all that much management in any case... but the castle gardens definitely need someone to care for them."
"Then I'll have to show you how to garden," Grace said, and linked her hand with his. "Right now, I think we should fetch a tailor and get you some new clothes."
"Oh, thank you," Ricky said, and kissed her.
And they lived happily ever after.
---------------------------------------------
The End
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Date: 2007-02-02 12:50 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-02 07:48 pm (UTC)