Things in Ever After were looking a tiny bit brighter. Not like "blazing noontime sun" bright. More the level of brightness that happens when you're scrubbing a chimney, and a slit of light manages to sneak its through the creosote.
For one thing, Borin had been quickly apprehended and returned to his subterranean quarters. The royals were so thrilled that Derek, Sadira, Layyin, and Ashley had arrived back safely that they planned a Jacuzzi-room meetup after dinner to celebrate and plan the next steps on how to ruin Charming's life after what was clearly the potion's failure. Together they would see the prince pay for his crimes!
But more importantly, Ashley found her way to the bathroom without any embarrassing encounters with court jesters, maids, footmen, or chaplains. Once she arrived, Ashley happened upon Valeria, plucking petals from a bouquet of crimson roses and arranging them atop a steaming bath. The petals floating on the surface reminded Ashley of blood splatter, but she kindly did not say so. In the fireplace, a fire the orange of a summer sunset, cracked and popped. The flames of a hundred beeswax candles danced in the wake of invisible currents.
"It's beautiful, Valeria, thank you," Ashley said, her muscles relaxing more and more with each inhale of the warm, rose-scented air.
Valeria deposited the half-plucked bouquet on a wooden table beside a jug, stood, and curtsied. "I heard you mentioned you'd like a bath. Let me help you with that." She lifted the torn-tattered chemise over Ashley's head and tossed it in the fireplace. "I assumed you wouldn't want to keep that."
Ashley smiled. "You assumed right." She climbed into the golden claw-footed tub, sending the petals bobbing toward the edges, the water an enveloping caress on her skin. Exhaling, she closed her eyes and floated, but thoughts of Charming, the missing children, and the taxes threatened to ruin what she'd hoped would be a few moments of peace. She had to quiet her thoughts enough to think clearly.
"May I wash your hair, Your Highness?"
"That would be lovely, Valeria." Ashley generally preferred to do these small tasks for herself, lest she forget how and become a spoiled, incompetent royal. But her arms ached from upending cauldrons and hours of clutching the reins of an obstinate unicorn.
Warm water cascaded over her head. Valeria applied shampoo and scrubbed Ashley's hair and massaged her scalp. Bliss.
"I am grateful to you, My Princess."
"Mmmmm," Ashley said from the edge of sleep. The massage ceased. "Sorry, I almost fell asleep. What did I do?"
"My little sister, Victoria, is one of the abducted children. When you told us you would bring them all back, a great weight lifted from my soul. Victoria is the only family I have left since my parents died in last year's plague."
Upon hearing this, the great weight switched over and bore down on Ashley. What had she done? She hadn't said she would do her best to find the children. She guaranteed she would find and return them safely. How could she be so stupid?
For one thing, she didn't even know where they were. And for another, who knew what might have befallen them? Usually, people didn't kidnap children so they could give them a better education and health care.
"I am very sorry to hear about your sister and your parents. I will do all I can to return Victoria to you."
"You will succeed," Valeria said, eyes filled with tears.
"Yes," Ashley said over the lump in her throat. "I will."
Valeria rinsed Ashley's hair and handed her a loofah. Ashley scrubbed and scrubbed, and though she could not rid her skin of all the dirt, nevertheless, it turned the water the oily brown of a stagnant moat.
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Debriefing Gerald would be the first step in Ashley's search for the children. And luckily, now that he was a knight, it would be perfectly acceptable for her to summon him for a conference at the castle instead of having to dress up as a man and visit him in the stables. She didn't mind the man outfit as much as being within skewering distance of Louisa's horn.
The Vault eschewed the menswear, instead providing Ashley with a cream-colored gown of silk, overlaid in opalescent tulle—as sheer and iridescent as an abalone shell. Seated before the vanity, Ashley scribbled plans for her kingdom while Valeria brushed her curls and twisted them into a chignon. As a final touch, she clipped on a simple pair of teardrop pearl earrings.
When at last, Ashley looked up from her work to check the mirror, she did not recognize the blue-eyed woman staring back at her. This woman seemed older, wiser. The manifestation of a pair of tiny wrinkles etched above her nose served as proof. Ashley touched them with reverence.
"You look like Venus," Valeria breathed. "Like a goddess born of the sea."
"It is a lovely gown," Ashley agreed.
"'Tis," Valeria said, "but that's not what I meant." Ashley tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. "The Vault gives you what you need."
"True."
"By creating this gown, The Vault is telling you that you have the power of the ocean but command it with the most delicate net."
"That's beautiful, Valeria, but how do you know this is what The Vault is saying?"
Blood rose in Valeria's cheeks. "I just know," she said. "The Vault believes in you, and so do I."
Ashley spun in the chair and took Valeria's hands. "I vow to stop at nothing to find your sister and the other children."
Valeria's eyes filled with tears, but she managed a small smile. "I already knew that, My Princess. And now you must eat."
She had no time for food. The meeting with Gerald could not be delayed. "I'm not hungry," Ashley lied, but her stomach betrayed her with an emphatic growl. Perhaps she could kill the proverbial two birds with one stone and invite Gerald for a meal. Though she'd just had a bath, after the frozen flight home, she longed for the kitchen's warmth. Merry fires in the hearth. Bubbling cauldrons of deliciousness that weren't torture devices for her friends. Plus, being a kitchen wench at heart, she always found comfort there. "To the kitchens, then?"
Valeria's gasped and shuffled back a step. "Highness, no. I will bring you a tray."
"I miss the kitchen sometimes," Ashley confided.
Valeria nodded. "Will you lead the way?"
"I shall," Ashley said.
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Gerald sat across from Ashley at a wooden table. Though a stack of Valeria's pancakes, as high as Layyin's mattresses lay between them, Ashley could still see that errant lock of hair curling down his forehead. She forced her attention to the food and watched as an avalanche of gooey syrup and melted butter dripped down the sides and pooled on the silver platter.
"Pancake?" Ashley offered.
"Thanks," Gerald said, taking three pancakes from the top. Now Ashley could see his nose and mouth.
Ashley helped herself to three as well and stuffed an obscenely-large bite into her mouth; the sweet, salty, buttery softness caressed her tongue in bliss. There was something about being starved that made food taste even better. She had to remember to thank Valeria when she saw her. "Mmmmmm," she moaned. "Aren't you going to try it?"
"Sorry. I thought the underlings had to wait for the royalty to eat first."
"That is just one of a million ridiculous rules, but in any case, I've started." Ashley watched him chew, warmed by his smile.
"Delicious," he said.
Ashley checked over both shoulders to see if any of the kitchen staff seemed overly interested in what she and Gerald discussed. Most aristocrats and royals ignored the staff, thinking of them more as objects than people. But Ashley, having spent the bulk of her life as a servant, knew very well that they were living, breathing, curious humans. Fortunately, the constant clatter of pots, barking of orders and grinding of spices, and the occasional broken dish provided some protection against prying ears. "I need to know what you learned on your ... expedition." She jammed another ogre-sized bite into her mouth.
Gerald grinned and pointed to his chin.
Ashley touched her chin. Sticky. Ugh. Her neck heated. "Don't judge. I haven't had any sustenance since hot cocoa at the witches' fortress." She wiped her face with a surnape.* "By the way, apparently ..." she checked again for eavesdroppers, and whispered, "... I'm a witch."
Gerald laughed, low and rumbling. "I knew that."
"Huh? How could you know that when I didn't?"
"Because I'm a witch too," he whispered. Although I prefer the term warlock, it's much more manly-sounding. How do you think we can speak to animals? And how could I find that potion if I wasn't tied into the magical world? Wandering wizards don't go around selling potions to just anyone."
"I thought the animal thing was a hereditary fluke. Like having two different eye colors or thinking cilantro tastes like soap. Why didn't you mention this sooner?"
"I assumed you knew. I mean, you're many things, Highness, but stupid is not one of them."
"Was that an actual compliment?"
"As I have a strong desire to maintain the current position of my head, specifically atop my shoulders, I will answer 'yes, most certainly.'"
"Why do people keep doing that?" Ashley said.
"Doing what?"
"Thinking I will shout 'off with their heads' because someone doesn't bow low enough or fill my glass from the correct side?"
"Royal power is absolute."
Whatever Ashley expected him to say, it wasn't something serious. And because Ashley was so new to power, she turned the words over in her head, like compost. Absolute power was wrong. No one should be able to wield it. "You are wiser than you look," Ashley said, taking several more pancakes.
"Was that an actual compliment?" Gerald countered, refilling his plate.
The tower of pancakes between them slowly eroded to less of a Layyin-type pile. "I suppose it was. But enough of this. Tell me everything about Mercer. Did you find his daughter?"
Gerald set down his fork and wiped his mouth. "Mercer had been tracking the disappearances. He created a map, and the trajectory was to the north. Several were taken from each village, a day's horseback ride apart.
"Eventually, we reached the base of Mount Dolorem. We took Louis as high as possible and circled the mountain, but it was shrouded in clouds. The only way to make certain the children were there would be to scale the peak, but even Louis could not fly that high, and it was impossible to climb."
She washed down the food with some milk. "No unicorn can fly that high. Not enough air to support their wings," she recited.
"How did you come by this knowledge?"
"Basic unicorn fact. Everyone knows this."
"All right, Miss Unicorn Expert—"
"You mean 'My Princess Unicorn Expert?'"
"Of course, Majesty. Anyway, we dropped lower to look for clues. And toward the bottom, we found this." He reached into his pocket and extracted a small suede boot. "It belonged to Mercer's daughter. The man dropped to the ground and sobbed. More than anything, we wanted to climb that mountain, but after several near-death experiences, we decided our deaths would not be the best rescue plan."
"Probably not," Ashley agreed. She did not want to bring up the next question, but she had to. "How do we even know the children are—" She thought of Valeria and couldn't finish the sentence.
"Alive?"
"Yes," she breathed.
"Because of the mouse."
"Mouse?"
"Yes. Hilda Mae, Mercer's daughter, had a pet mouse. It was inside the shoe. He told us the children were alive last he saw them, and they are being imprisoned at the top of the mountain. The mouse didn't know any details, however."
"We boarded Louis, intending to return to the kingdom to gather supplies and help, but then it happened."
"When what happened?"
"Dragons."
Ashley's fork clattered to the floor. "What?"
"A fleet of red-horned blue-bellied monsters. They saw us and gave chase."
"How did you survive?"
"Marveloni's cloak. Dragonskin, remember? It is impervious to fire."
Ashley cringed. "How could I forget?"
"The dragons thought Mercer was Marveloni because of the cloak. I tried explaining who we were in-between blasts of fiery dragon breath, but they said we had the cloak of the dark wizard, which meant one of us was Marveloni. Oh, and that we had to die for our many sins."
"I don't get how you outran them. Dragons are the fastest flyers in the world."
Gerald raised his chin. "They never had to chase as accomplished a unicorn pilot as I."
"Such modesty."
"Merely stating a fact. Also, there was a convenient cave nearby. Too small for dragons. We out-waited them. It turns out dragons are impatient."
"That's lucky."
"So, Highness, I request a fleet of unicorns, a dozen of our strongest men, and provisions, to climb Mount Dolorem and rescue the children, even though it's theoretically impossible. I refuse to believe there is any mountain I cannot conquer." Gerald slapped the last two pancakes onto his plate, devoured them in five bites, and pointed to the empty plate. "See?"
Ashley rolled her eyes. As if eating a stupid amount of pancakes was evidence that Gerald could summit Mount Dolorem. Ridiculous! "I'm coming."
"That is not wise, Highness. 'Tis dangerous."
"I promised the people."
"Well, you're fulfilling your promise by sending your trusty knight."
Ashley narrowed her eyes, "what makes you think I trust you?"
"Just a hunch."
"Sorry, but I still outrank you. Besides, I have to go. It's part of the prophecy."
"What prophecy?"
"Oh, I forgot to mention, when I was with the Cloistered Witches of the Cloister, they told me a prophecy. Well, it was a stupid prophecy that I told as a joke. But then they copied it. So, I am not sure whether it's even real, but I have to go with you on the off chance that it is."
"What exactly did it say?"
Ashley cleared her throat. "You shall face your greatest enemy in a battle to the death and only survive if you climb the highest mountain in the seven kingdoms and steal a dragon's egg from her nest. Oh, and it has to be a Thursday, or forget any chance of survival. So you see, 'no chance of survival' is worse than going on an expedition with you."
"Ah, so you're a Future Fabricator."
"What's that?"
"A rare branch of divination. Where your words influence the chaos of magnetic atomic attraction in the macrocosmic miasma."
"You made that up."
"Okay, I did. But what it means is that if you say it, it happens."
"Oh, then hear me o' universe. Put your atoms in the right order and bring those kids here before the cathedral clock strikes twelve, and the stars are totally aligned and whatnot. I made that sounds prophetic enough, didn't I?"
Gerald exhaled. "Doesn't work that way."
"You're an expert on Future Fabricators?"
"More than you."
"Well, since I didn't even know about it until 30 seconds ago, I suppose that's true. So, Mr. Smarty Pants, how does it work?"
"That's Sir Mr. Smarty Pants! Anyway, you don't consciously say what you want to happen. It comes from your subconscious when it's in sympathy with the chaos."
"Then how do I know when something I say is a prophecy versus my ordinary random fantasies or just sarcasm?"
"Practice?"
Ashley sighed. "Whatever. I'm still going."
"Okay, but if you die, don't blame me."
"I won't. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to do a quick audit of the castle accounts to investigate the double taxes, tell the other royals about the plan, and choose the right ensemble for a rescue mission."
"All that? When are you planning to leave? Easter?"
Ashley pursed her lips and shook her head. "Sir Gerald, I could have you locked in the dungeon right next to Borin."
"Or you could ask someone else to look at the accounting records, not tell anyone about our plan because you never know when there are spies in our midst, not go on the mission at all, and not lock me in the dungeon," Gerald suggested, wiping the remaining syrup off his plate and licking it off his index finger.
"Hmmm," Ashley looked up, chewing the inside of one cheek, then smiled.
"Why the smile, Your Highness?" Gerald said.
"Just picturing you in irons."
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* A cloth resembling a napkin used in medieval times for washing at meals.
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