A True Princess Read online

  Chapter 4

  A True Princess Does Not Climb Trees

  We stood beneath the looming trees, filled with dread. Ove pressed against us, and Karina crouched down to put her arms around him. He whimpered; and when Kai shushed him, Karina stood and turned on her brother.

  “Why did you run off?” she demanded, her voice echoing in the forest. “You left us to the mercy of those robbers! This is all your fault!”

  “I’m sorry,” Kai said wretchedly. “I was afraid we would lose Ove. I didn’t think—”

  “No, you didn’t!” Karina snapped. I could see that she was using her anger to mask her fear, and I interrupted her sharp words.

  “Kai saved us, Karina. He fought against all of them! Without him . . .” My voice trailed off. I didn’t want to think of what might have happened.

  Kai held up his sword. The blade was streaked with blood. “I cut a man,” he said, low.

  “And it’s a good thing you did,” I replied briskly. “Wipe off the blade, and let’s start walking. We can’t stay here.”

  Obediently, Kai looked for a patch of grass or a clump of leaves to clean the sword, but the ground beneath us was bare save for a layer of brown needles from the pine trees. No underbrush could grow in this sunless place.

  “I have a kerchief here somewhere,” I said, rummaging in my pack. I pulled it out, and Kai wiped the blade until it gleamed again. Then I buried the soiled kerchief beneath the pine needles and picked up the pack.

  “Come on,” I commanded. Kai and Karina seemed to be in a trance. “Come on! We must move!”

  “Where?” Karina asked helplessly, gazing around. “How can we know which way to go?”

  “We can’t,” I admitted. Then when I saw the panic in Karina’s eyes, I said with a confidence I did not feel, “We will just have to walk, and hope that we are walking in the right direction.”

  We started out, moving slowly around the enormous tree trunks that stretched upward as far as we could see. As we walked, Kai seemed to return to himself; and finally he said, “I have heard that moss grows on the north side of trees.”

  We looked carefully at the trees we passed. “There,” I said, pointing to a patch of green growing on one side of a great trunk. We found more moss on many of the other trees and used it as a guide, hoping it was sending us northward. I thought for a moment of Hansel and Gretel and their journey through the forest. If only we’d left a trail of breadcrumbs from the road! But then I remembered that birds had eaten Hansel and Gretel’s breadcrumbs, and they had been lost anyway.

  After what must have been many hours walking through an unchanging forest, we grew too weary to go on and stopped to eat and sleep. We had barely spoken again all that long day. We ate in silence too, sharing the little bit of bread and cheese that we dared to eat—for who knew how long we would be in this wood? Still hungry, we lay back with our packs as pillows, I with my blanket wrapped around me. The pine needles made a soft surface beneath us, and in moments Karina was asleep. Kai, though, lay staring blankly upward. I knew that he did not see the heavy branches above him but was repeating in his mind the slice of sword through flesh, the scream of the brigand and the sight of his blood.

  “What you did was so brave,” I said softly, and he turned his head to look at me. His eyes were clouded with misery.

  “I’ve never hurt a person before,” he said. “I have never wanted to.”

  “You have never had to,” I reminded him. “You saved us—you know you did. We couldn’t have fended off those men otherwise.”

  He nodded and sighed deeply. “I didn’t know I was capable of that.”

  “Well, I for one am glad that you are,” I told him. “And perhaps that thief will think twice before he attacks his next victim!”

  “Perhaps,” Kai allowed, the trace of a smile on his lips. He closed his eyes then, signaling that he did not want to talk about it more. I closed mine as well, and thought that I too had changed. I did not believe that I could use a sword on a man, but I no longer felt that I was the dreamy girl who fumbled with the dishes and forgot her chores. I could curtsy like a lady and sing in front of a crowd. I had forced Kai and Karina to walk through the forest. I felt stronger and more awake there, in that dark, uncanny place, than I ever had on the farm; and I hoped that my strength would help us find our way through Bitra Forest.

  Before long I drifted into sleep.

  A dirt field, and at each end of the field there is a man on horseback, both man and horse heavily armored. At the sound of a horn, the riders race toward each other. They carry heavy lances, and it is obvious that each means to use the lance to unseat the other. They meet in the middle of the field with a great crash and the neighing of frightened horses. One knight goes flying, landing with a thump and the jangle of armor on the hard ground. A moment later he struggles to his feet, and the onlookers clap and cheer. The mounted knight rides to a raised dais, doffs his helmet, and bows his head to the king and queen; the queen stands and lays on his brow a circlet of entwined leaves and flowers. Again the knight bows; again the lords and ladies clap and laugh and sip cool drinks from colored goblets as the sun shines down. . . .

  When I opened my eyes, I was met by the same gloomy dimness as before. The silence was complete, but it was not a peaceful stillness. Indeed, it made me feel quite uneasy. I imagined elf-spies behind every tree, though we had heard or seen no sign of any living, moving thing. Sighing, I stretched and rose, patted Ove, and woke Kai and Karina. We had not yet passed a stream where we could drink or wash, and I was beginning to worry about finding water.

  I told them of my dream as we walked through the endless silent forest, elaborating on the parts I did not truly remember: the ladies’ dresses, the number of trumpeters, the flowers in the winners’ garlands. Kai winced as I described the jousting, but Karina said, “I wish that I could see such a tournament!” and asked for still more detail.

  At last we heard a very welcome sound: the rush of a stream over rocks. Ove sprinted ahead; and before we could think to stop him, he was lapping happily at the clear brook water.

  “Ove—,” I started, but it was too late. I held Karina back from joining him; and when she looked questioningly at me, I said, “What if it is enchanted?” We had all heard tales of elves and their food that, once eaten, bound the eater to them. What if the water flowing through this elvish place had the same power? Karina’s hand flew to cover her mouth in alarm, and we stared at Ove, hoping he would not suddenly sprout wings or turn into a mole or begin to recite rhymed couplets. He felt our intent gazes and turned to look at us. Tilting his head to the side in that way he had, he wagged his tail and barked sharply in a tone that clearly said, Come on in! The water’s fine!

  And we did. The water was fine indeed—delicious and cold. We splashed our faces and scrubbed our dirty hands, drank until our stomachs hurt, and sat beside the brook on the soft pine needles, refreshed.

  “Have I grown pointed ears?” Kai asked me, and I laughed.

  “Not yet,” I said, “but I see that Karina’s nose has turned into a duck’s beak.” Karina hooted and grabbed for me, and I sprang up and dodged around her, Ove following me and barking with glee. Chase was his favorite game, whether it was sheep or humans he pursued. We ran in circles, accusing one another of magical transformations: “You’ve grown a squirrel’s tail!” Kai told his sister; and she shouted, “And you have the skin of a trout—and its smell!” At last we were spent and collapsed, laughing, on the ground. Filled with joy, Ove rolled over and over in the pine needles, and we laughed until we wept to see him shake and the needles fly in all directions.

  “Oh,” Kai gasped, wiping his eyes as we finally quieted. “It feels good to laugh! This place is so grim.”

  “If there are evil spirits or creatures, we have surely let them know that we are here,” I pointed out, thinking of the elvish spies I had imagined earlier. “But no doubt they knew that anyway.”

  We walked on, but within minutes I not
iced that Ove’s ears were raised—a sign that he smelled or heard something out of the ordinary. As I watched him, I saw a ridge of fur down the middle of his back rise up as well. Kai too looked closely at his dog, and then we followed Ove’s gaze. To our horror we saw a lone white wolf not far from where we stood.

  “A wolf!” Kai cried. “To the trees!”

  We dashed forward, looking for a trunk with branches low enough to grab, as more wolves leaped out of the shadows behind the first one. I could see, from the corner of my eye, that these were not the gray wolves of the sheep fields but larger, snow-white animals. Their teeth glistened as white as their coats as they ran, and Ove turned to fend them off, showing his own teeth as he tried to protect us.

  Karina was first to reach an enormous fir tree with low-hanging branches. She jumped, grabbed a branch, and swung herself up. I followed, mutely cursing the skirts that tangled around my legs. Balanced on the lowest branch, we looked down in helpless terror.

  Below us six white wolves ringed Kai and Ove in a silence more fearsome than their howls would have been. Their tongues hung out as they panted, and their sharp claws left gouges in the dirt as they moved closer. For a moment all movement stopped. Then, faster than I would have believed possible, Kai seized Ove and hurled him, as if he were no heavier than a stick, up to Karina. The force of the throw nearly knocked Karina off the branch, and I grabbed for her as she caught Ove, holding him tight as his paws scrabbled wildly in the air. Kai leaped for the branch where we perched just as the wolves sprang, their razor-sharp teeth gnashing just inches below his dangling legs. Pulling himself up, Kai took Ove from his sister and we climbed higher, away from the slavering jaws that snapped beneath us.

  The tree branches were like a stepladder reaching upward, and I climbed frantically. Long after Kai and Karina had settled themselves on a wide branch far above the forest floor, I kept going, pulled by an urge I did not understand. I felt that I must see a glimpse of sky, feel the fresh wind on my face. At last the branches grew too small to bear my weight, and I had to stop. I peered upward, trying to see blue among the brown branches and green needles. Instead, just above me between two branches I spied an enormous nest. It was built of branches as a smaller one might be built of twigs, and it was held together with mud. I clambered a little higher, testing each branch to make sure it would hold me. When I could look inside the nest, I saw that scattered in the mud were feathers, fur, and scraps of wool. I gasped and wobbled wildly, my shock almost making me lose my grip on the tree trunk. The nest was the same size and shape as the basket that had carried me safely down the river.

  Not a basket, made by the world’s worst basket maker, but a nest! As I ran my hand along its rough edges, I saw Kai climbing up behind me. Speechless, I pointed at the nest. His eyes widened.

  “It is just the same as the one at home!” he ex-claimed.

  There was a rustle above us, and we looked upward, grabbing at the tree trunk for balance. On a branch far too thin to hold us sat an enormous falcon. Its dark eyes were on me, and I was suddenly very glad that the nest was empty of chicks. I knew what a falcon would do to protect its babies.

  “This is your nest?” I asked the bird. She did not startle or appear to notice my voice in any way, but her gaze was intent. It was not an unfriendly look, and I had a sudden thought. I bowed my head to her.

  “If you—or one of your kind—helped me when I was a baby, I thank you,” I said formally, feeling a little foolish for talking to a bird. But the falcon seemed to acknowledge my words, uttering a loud, high-pitched cry. Then she spread her enormous wings, somehow avoiding the thicket of branches around her, and soared upward. In a moment we heard her cry again, and from the sound I knew that she flew above the trees in the open sky.

  Kai and I climbed down to rejoin Karina, who was waiting safely with Ove in the crook of the tree. We rested there, speculating about the nest and trying not to think about the wolves that might still be lurking below. Karina told us they had slipped back into the forest; but Ove still twitched nervously, so we did not dare to descend.

  “Perhaps a falcon plucked you from your mother’s arms,” Kai suggested, but Karina disagreed.

  “No mother would let go of her babe, no matter how fierce the bird,” she insisted.

  “Maybe it rescued me from some terrible danger,” I said.

  “I suppose it is possible . . . but then, why place you in a nest?” Karina asked skeptically. “Why float you down the river?”

  I shrugged, frustrated. It seemed that every clue I gathered about my past—the blanket, the nest—raised a dozen new questions. I despaired of ever finding all the answers I wanted.

  “We should start off again,” I said sharply. Ove had finally fallen asleep in Karina’s lap, his ears twitching with his dreams, so I knew that the immediate danger had passed. We climbed down warily and walked more carefully than before, stopping often to look and listen; but there was no sign of the wolves.

  Before long, though, we noticed something peculiar. With every step, the air grew heavier and thicker. The trees seemed to waver, shimmering as far-off objects do when the sun is very hot, though it was cool in the forest.

  Ove whined fretfully. “Is it going to storm?” Karina asked.

  “I don’t know what it is,” Kai said. I felt that we were moving toward a thing unknown. Perhaps, I thought hopefully, we were nearing the end of the forest and would emerge to see the road and Gilsa Town.

  But the feeling of strangeness grew. It became harder to breathe, and we began to feel dizzy and disoriented. Again I imagined eyes watching us, and I wondered if we might be walking into some sort of dark magic.

  “I shall have to sit down soon,” Karina said to me, gasping. I feared to stop, so I took one of her hands and Kai the other. We stumbled on.

  At last, not far ahead of us, we could see a gap in the trees. We halted, breathing heavily. Kai pulled us behind a thick trunk, and I took firm hold of Ove. As our breath returned, a sudden shaft of light illuminated the clearing, and we stared in astonishment at what we saw. In the center of the glade was a great rectangular table, made of silver or a silvery wood, with ornate carved legs. The table was set with golden plates and golden forks and knives, and a ruby-colored goblet graced each place. Enormous silver candelabra were placed at intervals down the table. The chairs too were carved silver, and at the far end of the table there was a throne of gold.

  “Oh my,” Karina said faintly.

  We watched in silence as figures with pointed ears and green-tinged skin emerged from the surrounding forest.

  “Elves,” I whispered.

  Dressed in fur and velvet, silk and satin, they noiselessly took their places at the table, standing behind their chairs. The candles all lighted in unison, and then the Elf-King came into the clearing.

  Chapter 5

  A True Princess Is Not Demanding

  We knew him at once, from the song and the story, and by his magnificent golden crown and fur-trimmed robe. He was tall and slender, and his face was very beautiful; but even from a distance I could see that the slash of his mouth was cruel. I peered around the tree to see more clearly, though I knew without being told that it was dangerous to spy upon the Elf-King. If we were discovered, he would surely not be forgiving.

  At the Elf-King’s right side was his daughter. It almost hurt to look at her perfection: her silvery hair that fell to her knees in waves, her exquisite face, her lithe figure. She moved with the sway of a willow, and she wore a dress of willow green, made of a material silkier and more flowing than any I knew. Like her father she was crowned with gold, and she too had a mouth that hinted at heartlessness.

  I turned to Kai, suddenly afraid, recalling something Sir Erlend had told us—that he who looks upon the Elf-King’s daughter risks enchantment, or even death. What I saw in Kai’s face made my heart sink. He was gazing at her with such delight and pleasure, I felt that I might weep. I took his hand and squeezed it, but he showed no sign that h
e felt my touch. He had seen the Elf-King’s daughter, and as we had been warned, he was lost to us.

  Then Kai moved out from behind the tree that sheltered us and headed straight to the banquet table. Alarmed, I grabbed for him, but he shrugged me off and continued forward. Karina and I followed, not knowing what else to do, and Ove trotted behind.

  The elves betrayed no surprise, and in a flash each elvish courtier held a bow with an arrow at the ready, pointed at us. Had they known we were there all along? Karina and I stopped, but Kai walked on, seemingly oblivious of the danger. He reached the Elf-King’s daughter and went down on one knee, bowing his head and offering her the sword that the blue lord had given him. All was as silent and still as a painting.

  Then the Elf-King’s daughter laughed, a sound as delicate as wind chimes but somehow mocking. I felt a laugh rising in my own throat and forced it down, staring at the elvish princess. How could she make me want to laugh?

  “Look, Father,” the Elf-King’s daughter said. “It is a human, come to me for Midsummer’s Eve!” She clapped her hands in delight, and the other elf ladies at the table clapped too as one of the courtiers stepped forward and took Kai’s sword from his unresisting hands.

  Midsummer’s Eve, I thought. Of course it was! I had lost track of the time, but I had known the longest day of the year was near. It explained the feeling of magic thick in the forest, the elves’ banquet and celebration. Every town and village in the land celebrated this wildest of nights, most with a bonfire and dancing. Midsummer was a magical time, an occasion for fun and feasting, for healing spells and love charms. Many illnesses were cured, and many maidens found their husbands, on Midsummer’s Eve.

  The Elf-King looked at Kai. Then his glance slipped over Karina and landed, most fearfully, on me. I could not bear his gaze and stared at the ground. But a moment later the pointed, embroidered shoes of the Elf-King appeared in my field of vision, and I knew he was standing directly in front of me. I dipped low in a curtsy, and he raised me with a hand under my chin.