A True Princess Read online

  I was hopelessly lost in minutes, but before I had time to panic I saw once more a familiar red cap, and our nisse popped up before me.

  “Why aren’t you at the farm?” I asked him, knowing better than to let my relief show in my voice.

  “Why aren’t you at the palace?” he retorted, and I smiled despite myself.

  “I am glad you are here,” I admitted, though I tried to keep my tone light. “I have to find the Elf-King, and I do not know where he is.”

  “So I understand,” the nisse grumbled. I wondered how he knew, then realized that news doubtless traveled fast among magical folk. “What an idiot you are!” he went on. “It wasn’t enough that you escaped the elves unharmed. Now you want to tempt the fates again—and you put me in harm’s way as well. You know that you are my charge and I am bound to help you.”

  I shook my head. “I am no longer a shepherdess, it seems. You don’t need to help me—I release you. I don’t want to put you in danger. You can go back to the farm.”

  The nisse snorted. “I’d far rather help you than that dreadful fat farmwife you lived with. But you are alone. Where is the other one?”

  I looked at him, and he made an elaborate show of looking away unconcernedly. I remembered how flustered he’d become when Karina had tried to hug him, and I hid another smile.

  “Karina is waiting outside the forest. You can see her if—when—” I broke off.

  “We might just go there now and save our lives instead,” the nisse suggested.

  “No,” I said firmly. “I must rescue Kai and the changelings. I promised.”

  “I promised!” the nisse repeated, mocking me. “Is that why? Is that really why you risk your life—and mine?”

  I looked closely at him, and saw a glimmer of understanding in his green eyes. “You know it is not the only reason,” I said softly, and he rolled his eyes.

  “You humans—you are all rotten with emotion. Can’t you just be a princess and be happy?” he chided me, but he did not expect an answer.

  He began walking, and I scrambled to follow him. Once again we walked and walked, though this march seemed to take far less time than when we were fleeing the elves. Before long we reached the clearing where the Midsummer’s Eve feast had taken place. It was empty now, the grass lush and untrampled, as though a bonfire had never blazed and elvish feet had never danced there.

  “Stand in the center and call him,” the nisse instructed me. “But be wary. The Elf-King has little regard for promises made, and no regard at all for human life. I cannot help you once he comes; I can only watch.”

  I gulped. “If—if I do not come back, will you tell Karina what happened?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Will you tell her I tried my best?”

  The nisse frowned, but he nodded. “I’ll tell her,” he promised. “Now go!”

  I stepped forward into the clearing until I stood right in the center of it. Looking up, I could see a circle of blue sky far, far above. Then I took a deep breath and called out, “Elves, I am here! I am here for the Elf-King and his daughter!”

  Chapter 11

  A True Princess Does Not Consort with Commoners

  I stood in the clearing for several minutes, torn between dreading the appearance of the elves and fearing they would not come. I was sorely tempted to turn and run, but I made myself stay. I stayed for Kai.

  And suddenly they were there, and I took a step backward, trembling. The Elf-King stood before me, with his golden crown and ageless eyes; and at his side was his lovely daughter, with her treacherous smile. Behind them were five elvish archers, holding their bows.

  “You came back, Princess!” the Elf-King’s daughter said gaily, her green dress rippling like tall grass as she moved toward me. How, I wondered, has she discovered that I am a princess? And then I realized that she had known all along, since the day I had first been taken from my brother. She had known, and kept it from me, and this made me angry. It was easier to be angry than afraid.

  “I did come back,” I replied grimly. “I see I am quite a danger to you. Do you truly need five archers to protect yourself from me?”

  The Elf-King’s daughter laughed, but this time I felt no inclination to laugh with her. “You are amusing,” she said fondly. “They go where we go. We do not fear you, silly girl. Now, give me my jeweled clasp.”

  I took a deep breath. “First, I would like you to tell me something.” A little line appeared between her brows, but she nodded gracefully. “I escaped from your father as an infant,” I reminded her, as calmly as I could. “How did that happen?”

  A look of puzzlement passed over her features. “So you did,” she said. “Ah, now I remember! My father grew tired of your squalling. He gave you to a servant to hold, and then a falcon came.”

  “A falcon?” I said, confused.

  “Such dreadful birds!” the Elf-King’s daughter complained. “It fell from the sky like a stone and snatched you away from us. We did not even have time to draw an arrow. You were gone in an instant. Father knew it was revenge for what he had done so long before, when he shot a falcon for sport. Oh, how he raged! It was really quite entertaining.” She glanced at the Elf-King, and her laughter pealed again. “We thought perhaps the bird ate you, or fed you to her chicks,” she confided. “But when we saw you at Midsummer’s Eve, we realized that was not the case.”

  “She placed me in her nest and floated me down the river,” I told her. It was the last part of my story. Now I knew all.

  “What an astonishing tale, and what a lucky girl you are!” the Elf-King’s daughter said nonchalantly. “Now, where is the cloak clasp?”

  I put my hand in my pocket and fingered the clasp. “Where is my friend?” I retorted. “And where are the changelings?”

  Now the Elf-King spoke up, and his voice was commanding. “First, give us Odin’s clasp.”

  My knees were weak, but I shook my head. “You may have the clasp when I have what I came for,” I said firmly.

  The Elf-King glowered at me, and I lost my breath. His face was as terrible in anger as it was beautiful in repose. “Give it to me!” he demanded, holding out his hand and moving toward me, his daughter following.

  I struggled to breathe and gasped, “You—you promised!”

  The Elf-King’s daughter laughed yet again. “He is the Elf-King, and you are but a human,” she said reprovingly. “What matters a promise between you two? Now, give us the jewel.”

  “On Odin himself you swore it!” I cried out. “You cannot break such an oath!”

  The Elf-King and his daughter stopped in their tracks, and I could see that my words had perplexed them. I took advantage of their confusion to turn, intending to flee; but I heard the Elf-King say something in a strange tongue, and I turned back to see that the archers had raised their bows.

  At that moment I heard a wild, high-pitched call. The elves heard it too, and their heads whipped around to find the source. Before they could pull their arrows to defend themselves, five falcons had plunged through the opening in the trees and were upon them. The great birds did not attack, though. As swift as a bolt of lightning and as unexpected, the falcons flashed by the five elves and were up in the air again a second later, each holding in its sharp claws a quiver full of arrows. In an instant they were gone.

  Before the Elf-King and his daughter could recover from their surprise, I ran. Frantically I fled through the forest, dodging around trees, too afraid to look behind me to see if the elves were following. The nisse was suddenly beside me. “The clasp!” the nisse shouted. “Use the clasp!”

  Then I remembered what the Elf-King’s daughter had said when she first asked for the clasp. With it I could call Odin to me. I stopped running, pulled out the clasp, and held it up. I cried out, as loudly as I could, “Odin, come to me! I call you to me!”

  Immediately I felt the ground shake beneath my feet, and I knew the invocation had worked. The Hunt was approaching. “Quick!” the nisse said. “Do you have something to bind
your eyes?”

  I felt in my other pocket and found a dusting cloth, left from what seemed like another lifetime, when I was just a serving maid. I fastened it around my head, covering my eyes.

  “I must hide myself,” I heard the nisse say as the sound of wild hooves came closer and closer. And then I was alone in the forest, blind, as the Hunt bore down on me.

  I had thought that I’d felt fear before—when I defied the Elf-King and when I’d hidden in the copse as Odin’s Hunt had passed me by. But this was beyond any terror I had ever known. I stood my ground as the Hunt raced toward me, knowing I could be crushed by the hooves of Odin’s giant horse; and truly it was not courage that held me there. It was fright. I could feel the wind of the Hunters’ movement as they came closer and closer—and then it stopped. All stopped. Time itself seemed to stop. The forest was utterly silent but for the sound of my own heart hammering in my ears.

  Then Odin spoke, and his voice, like his horse’s hooves, caused the earth to tremble.

  “You have called me, human, and I have come.”

  I held up the cloak clasp, my hand shaking so hard I thought I surely would drop it. Again there was silence as I struggled to find my voice. At last I whispered, “I have your cloak clasp, milord.”

  “It has been missing a long time,” Odin replied. “I had nearly forgotten it. Why is it in your hand?”

  “It was found by my brother many years ago, and hidden all this time,” I said in a very small voice. “I had promised it to the Elf-King.”

  “Why did you make that promise?” Odin inquired. “It was not yours to give.”

  I gulped. “I see that now, milord,” I said humbly. “But promise I did, in return for the humans whom the Elf-King holds prisoner.”

  I heard the shifting of horses’ hooves, and I wondered how many Hunters there were. I could feel them all about me, ringing me, though they did not touch me. The breath from their horses stirred my hair.

  “And why is this my concern?” Odin asked me.

  “The Elf-King swore an oath,” I said. “He swore on your name. And he has broken his promise.”

  “Ahhh,” Odin said, and the ahhh rumbled like an earthquake. The rumble went on and on, and I lost my balance and fell against a tree. I could feel the great trunk tremble as the ground heaved beneath me. I sank to my knees, still clutching the clasp.

  Then I heard the horses shift, and I smelled a scent so sweet and exotic that it almost made me swoon. I knew it was the Elf-King’s daughter, though I had not noticed her scent before, so caught up had I been in the sight of her. She smelled of lilac and wisteria and a spice I could not name, and with it was a whiff of evergreen that I surmised was her father. I longed to see them confronted by Odin, but I kept my hands securely at my sides, knowing that to uncover my eyes was to die.

  “Milord,” I heard the Elf-King say, his voice warm and affectionate. Still, beneath the warmth I thought I could detect something else. Worry, perhaps? Even fear?

  “You vex me with trifles,” Odin’s low rumble came. “You know I do not like to be bothered when I hunt. And yet you have made it necessary for me to stop my Hunt and attend to you. What say you?”

  Odin was speaking to him almost as a parent scolded a child. It was hard for me to picture the Elf-King so meek, but I found it pleasing to try.

  “I do regret it greatly, milord,” the Elf-King said, and now to me his voice sounded oily, groveling. “It was not my intention to disturb you, not at all. This is a matter between the human and myself. There is no need to trouble you with it.”

  “No need?” Odin growled, and again the earth trembled, just a bit. “You swore an oath on my name!”

  “Yes. Well.” Now the Elf-King seemed a little ill at ease, and my heart leaped with hope. “That will not happen again. The human—”

  “The human fooled you, fool,” Odin said, and I thought I heard the glimmer of a laugh in his voice. Then the horses moved again, and Odin, closer to me now, said, “Human, lay the clasp upon the ground. I cannot touch you.”

  I moved forward a little on my knees and felt the hot snuffling breath of a horse as it bent its head to sniff me. I placed the clasp gently on the ground and scuttled back against the tree.

  “Father!” the petulant voice of the Elf-King’s daughter rang out. “It is mine! Do not let him take it!”

  “Be quiet, daughter!” the Elf-King warned, but it was too late.

  “It is yours?” Odin said, and then louder, “It is yours? Yours?” The ground heaved violently once and I screamed despite myself, and the Elf-King’s daughter screamed as well. I could picture her as she picked up her green skirts to run, as I would have done if I could, and I heard the patter of her feet as she fled. The Elf-King must have intended to go with her, for Odin called him back.

  “Stay, Elf,” he said. “You have not fulfilled your oath.”

  “Milord,” the Elf-King replied, “I thought that since I did not get my prize, I did not have to pay for it.” I marveled that he dared to say such a thing to Odin.

  “You should not think so much,” Odin remarked, and again I thought I detected a laugh behind the words. “Bring the human prisoners here when I have gone. Alive. All of them. Lift their enchantment, and let them go free.”

  There was a moment of silence, and I held my breath. Then, in a sulky voice that echoed his daughter’s, the Elf-King said, “Very well, milord. As you command, so shall it be done.”

  “Wait!” I cried before I could stop myself. “I need something more.”

  “And what is that?” Odin asked. His tone was impatient now, but I persisted.

  “I need safe passage for all of us out of the forest. I fear the Elf-King will kill us as we try to find our way.”

  “So he would,” Odin said. “You are a brave one, human, and a smart one as well, to understand your enemy thus. Grant it, Elf.”

  I could almost feel the Elf-King’s rage as he spat out the words: “So shall it be done!”

  Hoofbeats sounded then, and I knelt clutching my tree as the noise of the Hunt echoed around me and receded into the distance, then at last faded away completely. I was alone only for a minute, though. I heard a happy bark and then felt Ove licking my cheeks, which were wet already with tears of worry and fear that I had not known I’d shed. I tore off my blindfold and threw my arms around the dog, whose tail wagged so violently that it nearly threw him to the ground. The nisse was with him, and he gave me a nod.

  “Not badly done,” he said grudgingly, and I smiled through my tears at his idea of a compliment. I looked around quickly; the cloak clasp was nowhere in sight, and there was no sign of either Hunt or elves. Then I noticed a movement amid the trees and stood to see what approached.

  “Oh, look,” I said softly.

  Through the trees marched a line of children, with Kai at their head. Some were tiny, some merely little; none was older than six or seven. There were dozens of them. Some of the older and larger ones carried infants in their arms. They looked healthy enough, well fed, and most were blinking and rubbing their eyes as if they had been long asleep. Ove gave a great bark, and the children broke ranks then, chattering and crowding around the dog to pet him. Kai bent to give Ove a hug and then straightened, his eyes finding mine across the children’s bowed heads.

  “Lilia!” he exclaimed. “What has happened? Where are we?” He was so full of questions that he had to stop speaking entirely. I made my way to him and threw my arms around him. His own strong arms pulled me tightly to him. I could hardly speak for joy.

  “Oh, Kai,” I breathed. “I have missed you so! I’m sorry it took so long. We had to get to the palace, and—oh! And I am a princess! And Karina—she loves the prince—”

  “What?” Kai said, beginning to laugh and releasing me. “What are you talking about? You—a princess? Karina—in love? How long have I been in this cursed place?”

  “Many days,” I told him, and the laughter faded from his face.

  “So long?
It feels like almost no time has passed since I walked up to the feast!” he said incredulously. “I remember a bonfire, a great deal of food . . . that is all.”

  “That was at Midsummer,” I said. “It has been nearly a fortnight since then.”

  “It’s elf-magic that makes the time all funny,” the nisse said, and Kai stared at him.

  “Why, it’s our own nisse from the farm!” he exclaimed.

  “He has been such a help to us,” I said.

  The nisse looked rather pleased, an unfamiliar expression on his sour face; and he bowed his head to me, very slightly.

  “Just doing my job, Your Highness,” he said modestly. “Though rather better than most, I’ll wager.”

  “Is it true, then?” Kai asked. “Are you really a princess?”

  “I suppose I am,” I replied. “I’ve not had much time to get used to it, though.”

  “How can all that have happened when it seems that no time has passed? I have been lost in a dream,” Kai said, bewildered. Then he gazed at the children who stood around us. “But these children—how long have they been in the dream?”

  “Look at their clothes,” I said to him, pointing out what I had noticed when I first saw the captives serving at the Midsummer’s Eve feast. “Some of them are dressed in garments from years and years ago. How many of them are decades, even centuries old?”

  Their sweet faces looked up at us. None of them appeared even as old as ten, yet some must have been hundreds of years old. “We must get them out of the forest, and find their families,” I said. “Nisse, will you guide us?”

  The nisse frowned. “Do you think I’ve nothing better to do?”

  I was learning how to handle the nisse, so I replied, as sweetly as I imagined Karina might, “I know you have important work to see to, but we have great need of you.”