I couldn’t take my eye away from that peephole. I had a feeling I was missing something important. I searched the room once more, trying to make out the objects on the shelves, hoping they might offer up some clues as to what had happened there. I saw a statue of a horse atop the mantle, a pile of books on a side table, a painting on the wall of a girl reading on the grass, and a set of marble bookends in the shape of lions. My eyes swung back to the painting and locked.
I stared until my eyes began to burn. I rubbed them and looked again. There was no question. That painting was the exact same painting as in our castle! It hung in the exact same place along the right-hand wall. In fact, it wasn’t just the painting that was identical. I could have been looking into our own library. The entire room was identical, down to the books on the table and the pattern of the rug. Although it was impossible, seeing as this castle was much older than ours, the objects in the room were brighter — the colors in the painting were not as faded as ours, and the rug had retained much more of its color. If ours hadn’t been dulled by the sunlight, Mother surely would have tossed it.
I let myself sink down to the grass and leaned my back against the castle wall for support. I thought I might faint dead away. I knew there was a mystery to be found, but I had never expected anything like this!
I spent the night in one of my forts, tossing and turning on the bed of feathers and leaves, snacking on the occasional blackberry, pondering what all this could possibly mean. By daybreak I knew I needed to cut my trip short. I needed Jonathan’s knowledge of the world to help me find some answers. I lay my hand on the wall of the old castle and felt a pulse of energy run through my arm. I yanked it away, then felt foolish for doing so. I lay my hand back on the vine-covered wall but felt nothing.
Leaving my potato sacks behind, I took off in the direction of home. In my haste, I tripped over what I thought was a bush. My knee banged against something hard. Bushes weren’t supposed to be hard. I turned around to examine it, my hand beginning to shake as I recognized, nearly hidden beneath a tight layer of leaves and branches, the unmistakable shape of a mermaid fountain. And unless I was going crazy — which at this point I certainly considered a possibility — there was water in the bottom of it.
I reached the castle as my parents were finishing breakfast.
“Back so soon?” Mother asked. It was the fourth Friday of the month, so she was in a good mood from whatever she had done the night before. It was unusual for me to be gone such a short period these days, but I couldn’t very well explain.
I made some sort of noncommittal grunt, pulled out my chair, and shoved some boiled goose eggs into my mouth. “Do you know where Jonathan is?” I asked between bites.
A quick look flitted between the two of them, and I could see the sympathy in their faces. I sat up in alarm. Had something happened? Had Mother scared him off? Or worse?
“Do not worry,” Father said, clearly sensing my fear. “Jonathan is fine. He wanted to tell you himself, but he only had time to pack up his things before the coach came for him.”
“He’s been promoted to squire and transferred to another kingdom to train for the knighthood,” Mother explained. “He was sad to leave here, but this is a very good opportunity for him.”
I was stunned. I knew I should be happy for him, but all I felt was abandoned. I slowly rose from my chair; the eggs in my belly felt like rocks. In a daze, I made my way up to my bedroom suite and closed the door firmly behind me.
A note on my dressing table caught my eye. I recognized Jonathan’s handwriting and hurried to open it.
“Prince, I am sorry I had not the time to find you in the woods. Everything has happened so quickly. I hope we shall keep in touch, although I know not where this journey will take me. One day when I am a knight, I hope you shall be my king. Your friend, Jonathan.”
I lay the letter down on the dresser. My teacher, my guide, my protector, my only friend. All gone in one moment. Now more than ever, I needed to find out the story of the old castle. I needed something to take me away from here. The old castle was the only future left to me.
As much as my bad/terrible/awful painting pleased me, it did not have the same effect on my mother. For months after the painting incident, I often caught Mama looking worriedly in my direction. Since in my family unpleasant things were never really discussed, it took me a while to get up the strength to confront her. Finally, after she had spent almost an entire meal looking at me as if I were a little child whose pet kitten had run away, I had to say something.
When we were alone in the library after supper, I asked, “Mama, why do you appear so sad whenever you look at me? Have I disappointed you terribly?”
Much to my surprise and horror, she burst into tears! I rushed into her arms to comfort her. She stroked my hair and said, sniffling, “Oh, baby, no, don’t ever think that. I had always believed the fairies’ gifts would protect you and make life easier for you. It helped to soften the terrible blow of the curse hanging over your head. But when you painted that picture, it pained me that you should feel any disappointment or sadness or pain in life. I wanted you always to believe you were the most special, talented, wonderful girl in the world.”
“But why?” I asked. “Why do I need to feel that way? Wouldn’t you rather I find out who I really am, without the gifts to guide me all the time?”
She sighed. “Honestly? No. I don’t want to think of you struggling with anything. I’m not saying it’s rational. This is a mother’s love talking.”
We sat in the two comfortable chairs, holding hands. There wasn’t much left to be said. I could not blame her for how she felt. I wondered if someday I would have a child to love as much as Mama loved me.
Later, when she kissed me goodnight in front of my bedroom door, I called down the hall after her. “Mama, for my birthday next week I thought I would cook supper for the family.” I hurried through the door before she had a chance to answer. In the morning when I awoke, Sara handed me a note on Mama’s personal stationery. It said, No knives!
Cook was not as pleased as I thought she would be about my offer to relieve her of her kitchen duties on my birthday night. She argued that she always made something special for my birthday. Was I sure I wanted to mess with tradition? I told her now that I was almost grown up — I was turning fourteen, after all, the age some other princesses were engaged — I really did not need a fuss to be made on my birthday anymore. I had spent the last week working out the menu, and I handed her a list. She read it, grimaced slightly, and nodded.
The morning of my birthday I was up before dawn. I dressed myself since Sara was still sleeping. But instead of my usual gown, I put on an old pair of Papa’s nightclothes that he had given me for playing in the garden when I was younger. At first Mama had been horrified that I wanted to wear pants to swing on the swing that hung from an old tree next to the mermaid fountain, but I convinced her I was much less likely to fall without my skirts getting tangled up in the chains. “Safety before fashion,” I pointed out. How could she argue with that?
Papa’s old nightclothes also made an excellent cooking outfit. I planned on getting dirty today. Sara came in the room, rubbing her eyes and yawning. “Why are you awake so early? The rooster has not even crowed yet.”
“Did I not tell you? I am the castle’s new cook!”
“Sorry?” she said. “I must have wax in my ears.”
I laughed. “I’m cooking our supper today. For my birthday.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve never done it before. I want to see if I can.”
“Like painting a picture?” she asked, taking my hair-brush off my vanity table and directing me to sit down.
“Yes, painting a picture.”
As she brushed my hair until it shone, she said, “You know, your painting was not that bad.”
“It was supposed to be the garden below my window,” I replied.
“Oh.” Then after a pause she added, “Well, I’m sure y
ou shall be a better cook than an artist, then.”
I wasn’t. After a full day of plucking hen feathers, marinating turnips, and churning butter, I hadn’t managed to make a single thing that my family could eat more than one bite of. Oh, they tried, to be sure. Papa even had two full bites of the turnip stew before pretending to cough into his napkin. He tried to secretly pass the napkin behind him to a wine steward, but I saw him.
“These plum cakes are delicious,” Sara said gamely. She had been chewing the same bite for five minutes. Then suddenly her expression changed to one of great surprise and delight. She swallowed, eagerly reached for her cake, and took another bite.
“You don’t have to do that just to make me feel better,” I said. “I think I let them bake too long. I know they are horrid.” It would have been nice to make a tasty meal, but after all, very few people did something perfectly the first time they tried it. I had worked hard at doing it and had enjoyed trying something on my own. That was enough for me.
Sara swallowed her second bite and shook her head. “No, honestly, this is delicious. You all have to try it.”
My parents had already nibbled on their cakes and were highly skeptical of Sara’s claim. The three of us looked at one another and shrugged. We took another nibble. And then another. Before I knew it, we had all polished off our plum cakes and were reaching toward the platter for more. How was this possible? It was like magic. Then it hit me: It wasn’t like magic, it was magic!
I stood up and turned from the table. “All right, Fairy, show yourself!”
At first I saw nothing. Then a foot appeared from behind the purple curtains. It was followed by a leg, and then the rest of the fairy. It was the same fairy who had blessed me with the gift of dance. Everyone else hurried out of their seats. We all gathered around her. I noticed Papa had grabbed another cake before leaving the table and was munching on it behind his large hand.
“What a lovely surprise,” Mama said, with a deep curtsy. “To what do we owe this honor?”
The fairy put her hands on her tiny hips. “I could not let Princess Rose create something that was not worthy of her gifts. I had to set things right.”
“I do not wish to be disrespectful,” I said carefully, “but why? Why can’t I do something that isn’t perfect every now and then?”
The fairy stood at her full height, which was still only about half of my height, and said, “I need not explain myself to you. Fairies’ gifts are meant to be used, not ignored.”
“Please, Fairy,” Mama said hurriedly. “Rose does not ignore her gifts. Is she not beautiful? Is she not graceful? Does she not sing like a nightingale and dance like a leaf in the wind?”
The fairy waved off Mama’s comments. “My job here is done. You might want to take your dessert into the library.” With that she jumped into the air and flew right out the window. Unfortunately the window was closed since it was a cold evening. She shook herself off, spit on the windowpane, and it disappeared. She left without a backward glance. The wind whipped through the room.
“Take care of that,” Papa said to the nearest steward, pointing to the empty window.
“Why did she tell us to have our dessert in the library?” Sara wondered aloud.
Mama sighed. “I suppose we should go find out.”
A steward followed us down the long hallway with a tray of cakes and glasses of cider. When we reached the library, at first we saw nothing out of the ordinary. Then Sara suddenly said, “Look!”
We followed where she was pointing. Where a bookshelf used to be, a painting now hung.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Don’t you recognize it?” she said. “That’s your painting!”
“What? No! It can’t be!” The painting was beautiful. It depicted a young girl lying in the grass, reading a book and gazing up at a pale blue sky. She wore a colorful bonnet.
We all rushed to get a closer look. Mama pointed at the details. “Here is the colorful bonnet I thought I saw when I first looked at the painting in your sitting room.”
“And I said I saw a girl who looked like you lying in the grass reading!” Sara said excitedly. “Your initials are in the corner. This is definitely your painting!”
“But how is this possible?” Papa said.
“Fairy magic,” I grumbled. Standing on a nearby ottoman, I reached for the painting with every intention of pulling it off the wall. I grabbed the bottom corners to lift it off the hook, but it did not move even an inch. I tried from a different angle. Nothing. I might as well have been trying to pull down the solid stone wall itself.
I stepped back down in defeat. “It won’t come off,” I said miserably. “She must have affixed it there permanently.”
Papa tried, too. But he could not make it budge, either. “I’m sorry, honey,” he said, patting me on the head and reaching for another plum cake. “But now everyone will believe you made this lovely painting.”
“That’s the problem,” I explained. “I don’t want to get credit anymore for things I don’t do. I wanted to do something that reflected me for a change. And if it didn’t come out well, that was fine.” I sank down into a chair.
Mama sat next to me and took my hand. “Rose, listen to me carefully. You are not special and wonderful and admired and loved because a bunch of fairies gave you some gifts. You are special and wonderful and admired and loved because you are YOU. A funny, charming, generous, loving girl with a unique spirit all your own. True, you have some advantages others do not. But that is not why you shine. You shine because of who you are inside.”
My eyes filled with tears. “Truly?” I whispered.
“Of course,” Papa said, patting me on the head again. “Did you not know that?”
I shook my head. “What do you think, Sara?”
Sara smiled mischievously. “The only reason I’m your friend is because of how well you can sing opera. Without that, I don’t know….”
We all laughed, and I felt better than I had in years. For the first time, I looked forward to finding out what my life would bring me. If I could live my life happily without needing my gifts, perhaps the curse had no hold over me, either.
It would be a few more years before I learned how wrong I was.
After Jonathan left I spent nearly a month in the forest. He had taught me so well how to take care of myself that I was never without food and fresh water. Just being near the old castle made me feel better. It still wasn’t giving anything up, though. Every once in a while I swore I would hear a low humming sound coming from it, but other than that, nothing stirred or changed, ever.
When I was finally ready to return home, the bailiff informed me that Mother and Father had gone to a meeting in the north with other local kings and queens. I had been left in charge. Without a second thought, I told the bailiff to invite the oldest men and women in the kingdom and the neighboring towns to tea in two days’ time. Then I alerted Cook to be prepared with tea and desserts, and told the maids to get out their rags. I wanted the place to shine. I enlisted the pages to help me raise all the windows to let the cool breeze refresh the stale air.
On the following day I filled the mermaid fountain outside with buckets I borrowed from the stable. Though it leaked in a few places from disuse, the water bubbled happily from the mermaid’s mouth.
The falconer saw me from the aviary and came down from his tower. “What will your mother say when she gets back?” he asked.
“I do not care,” I replied.
He smiled. “You are planning on getting rid of it before she gets back, right? And you’re going to throw some dust back over everything inside?”
“Yes,” I admitted. The falconer knew me well.
The next day the bugle blew, announcing the arrival of the townspeople. In all, about twelve men and women showed up. The kitchen staff had set up the tables in the Great Hall, and the room looked nicer than I ever remembered seeing it. The silver serving trays gleamed and the chandelier glittered with light. M
ost of the guests had never been in the castle before, and I could tell by their twitchiness that they were nervous. Once they were all seated, I stood and said, “Welcome, everyone. Please relax and have some warm tea and cakes.” I waited until they were sipping on their tea before adding, “I am hoping you can help answer a question for me.”
They whispered amongst themselves at this, then gave me their attention.
I did not want to ask about the old castle directly, so I decided on a roundabout route. “I need to know everything you have heard about my castle,” I said. “The history of it, how long it has been here, who built it, anything at all.”
This elicited many more whispers, but no one offered up any information. I waited patiently. Finally, one old woman stood up, holding tight to the arm of her chair for support. She was the oldest in attendance, at least eighty.
“My grandmother told me that when she was a girl, the castle was farther away from the town than it is right now. The ground where this castle rests used to be a field. Knights and squires practiced jousting here. She said one day, soon after my own mother was born, the castle suddenly moved to this field. Gardens, stables, moat, the whole thing. Just got up and moved all at once! I never believed her tale, of course, for everyone knows castles don’t appear fully formed overnight. It must have taken months to move all those stones.”
I listened carefully as she spoke and then asked, “How long ago would you say it appeared here?”