Quatrain (35 page)

Once we were at Rowena’s, I immediately slipped my gold bracelets over my wrists. Just sliding them in place cleared my mind a little; I thought perhaps the gold was not only a barrier the aliora could not cross, but it was also a tether that connected the human mind to the everyday world. Wrapping the gold around my arms was a bit like sipping one of my mother’s potions—designed to bring me back to a sense of myself.

Then I sat on the moss-covered bed for a half hour and tried to think. What had Orlain been trying to say—or rather, trying
not
to say? If he was constantly imagining me married off to someone else, did that mean he wished I would never marry? Did that mean he wished I could marry
him
? Did that mean he cared for me? If he loved me and I loved him, didn’t that mean we could marry if we wanted to?

There
was a reason to resist the wiles of Alora.

Of course, if Orlain knew that I was in love with him, he might very well
pretend
to be in love with me just to provide me with a reason to come home—where he would then gently tell me the truth. I didn’t think he would mind breaking my heart if he thought it would serve the kingdom.

But if there was a chance it was true . . .

Everyone always forgets that my mother herself is only half noble. She does not have the respect for bloodlines that might be expected from a queen. I did not think she would be shocked at the notion that I might marry outside of the upper class. And my father—well,
he
had married my mother. He wouldn’t be shocked, either.

I must keep my wits about me. I must be ready to force Orlain to naked honesty the next time he sought me out in Alora. I must cling to my gold as if I was adrift on a pitching ocean, and the metal was all that kept me from drowning.

T
he next day, I removed the bracelets just for an hour while Cressida showed me how to set a particular stitch, but I instantly resumed wearing them.

The day after that, I left the bracelets behind while Royven and I went wandering through the forest again. It was just so troublesome to try to keep them in my pockets and be forever worrying that I might drop them by some half-rotted tree stump or lose them in a woodland pool where we had stopped to drink the water. Of course I slipped them back on before dinner, but I almost wished I hadn’t. Twice when I passed platters I accidentally burned someone’s delicate flesh. I spent half the meal apologizing.

Three days after Orlain’s visit, I removed the bracelets for good, because I could not learn how to dance with an aliora while my arms were wrapped in gold. Yes, they had
dancing
in Alora—my very favorite thing!—except the patterns were like nothing I had ever encountered in a proper ballroom. Royven and his friends took turns showing me the steps, which involved a lot of twirling and clasping hands and winding through forest trails lit only by the brilliance of a full moon. Imagine! Dancing outdoors at midnight! Well, of course I couldn’t resist such an opportunity.

“You can wear your new red dress, if you finish it,” Cressida suggested, so I invested the effort to tack the hem in place and attach the last buttons. It was ready just in time.

“How do you plan to wear your hair?” Rowena asked on the day of the full moon.

My hair was so dense with curls that styling it was always a challenge. At home in Auburn, there was a single maid who had a knack for coaxing it into some semblance of sleekness, but here in Alora I simply tied it back with a ribbon if I wanted to keep it out of my face.

“I hadn’t given it any thought,” I said.

She reached up to brush the heavier strands away from my face. “We could tuck in some red blossoms right above your ears—or here in back—I think I can do something quite striking if you’re willing to let me try.”

“Oh, yes, please do!” I exclaimed. So I followed her to the room she shared with Jaxon on the second floor—bigger than mine, but no more complete in terms of finished walls—and I sat on a stool that was little more than a tree stump covered with a plump pillow. She stood behind me and gathered my hair up in both hands.

And then smothered a cry and yanked her hands away.

“What—oh, my earrings—I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I exclaimed, hastily reaching up to unfasten the hoops and lay them in my lap. “Did you burn yourself? I’m
so
sorry.”

Rowena was nursing her hand against her mouth. “That was clumsy of me,” she murmured. “It’s not like I haven’t seen them every day for the past two weeks.”

“I won’t put them back in,” I assured her. “But I can’t take the necklace off. So be careful when you take hold of my hair again.”

She was careful, and she produced a hairstyle that I simply loved. It was a mass of braids and curls and dripping trails of blossom. There were no mirrors in the house, of course, but a reflecting pool on the bottom story gave me back my face, all angles and shadows and dark tendrils of hair.

“I
love
it,” I breathed. “I wish I could copy this look when I’m back at the castle.”

“I’ll sketch it for you,” she promised me. “Your mother or one of your maids should be able to duplicate it easily enough.”

Because of the necklace, I couldn’t fling my arms around her, but I squeezed her hands in mine. “You’ve been so generous to me,” I said. “I wish I knew what to do for you in return.”

“Just be happy here,” she said. “That’s payment enough.”

It is almost impossible to describe the sight of aliora dancing by moonlight.

You think that the light is coming from above, milky and mysterious, sifting down through the dense forest to throw a muted sparkle across your pathway, across your eyes. Then you realize that the aliora themselves are glowing, that they are winding around the dark trees like a pale and aimless river, spilling in all directions. You think the moon itself is crooning to you, a hypnotic lullaby, until you realize it is the aliora singing or humming or merely calling out to each other their wordless, euphoric delight. One of them takes your hand—a young man you barely know—and he smiles at you and pulls you into the dance. You circle a tree; you circle each other; you step into the living stream of incandescent dancers and skip along some invisible forest trail. Perhaps there are nightbirds singing, perhaps the leaves overhead are soughing with a great bell-like clamor, but it seems as if music is welling up from the ambient air. Scents you never noticed before threaten to overwhelm you with their intensity—the odors of pine and cedar and some night-blooming flower—till the air is almost too rich for you to breathe. But of course you breathe it anyway, and it is more intoxicating than wine. Your blood fizzes through your veins and you are laughing, you are dancing, you are twirling madly through a luminous landscape, and you cannot remember what it ever felt like to be a human girl.

Someone has taken your hand again, and he draws you close to him. This is not part of the dance that you learned in all those days of careful lessons. His arms are around your back; yours are around his neck; you would be too giddy to stand there and smile up at him except you have leaned into him and your body rests oh so lightly against his. He is smiling but there is something mesmerizing in his intentness; you could not look away if you wanted to.

When he kisses you, all your senses tell you that time has completely stopped.

Yet time must still be running forward, because he kisses you forever.

I have no idea what might have happened if Cressida had not come across me where I stood deep in the forest, completely yielding to Royven’s embrace.

“Zara! Royven!” she said sharply. Royven was startled enough to lift his head, but he did not release me. I was too dazed to jerk my head around or struggle to get free. I merely blinked at him, then glanced over my shoulder to see who had accosted us.

“Cressida,” I said, and even to myself my voice sounded languorous. “Are you lost?”

“No,” she said pointedly, “but I’m afraid
you
are.”

Royven laughed softly. “I know exactly where we are.”

“You are on the steep path to trouble,” she said in a firm voice. She placed one hand on my shoulder and one on his, and pried us apart with no pretense of subtlety. Once we had reluctantly disengaged, she pushed him backward with a little force and took hold of my arm with a hard grip.

“
You
will come back with me right now,” she said to me. “Royven will stay with the other dancers.”

“I’ll come back with you to my mother’s house,” he said, but Cressida once again gave him a little shove on the shoulder.

“You won’t,” she said. “I will take care of Zara tonight.”

It seemed like too much trouble to argue. “Good night,” I called back to Royven as Cressida guided me through the forest. Some distance away from us, I could see that white river of aliora still snaking through the forest; I could catch bits and pieces of their eerie song.

“I love the way the aliora dance,” I told Cressida as she tugged me along.

“I’m not surprised,” she said. “Few humans can resist us when our magic is at its strongest, as it is during the full moon.”

“Why would anyone want to resist?” I asked.

She looked at me sharply. “Your place is not in Alora,” she said. “Therefore, it is your responsibility to resist as stubbornly as you can.”

“Castle Auburn seems so far from here,” I said.

“It is a two-day ride,” she said. “And a world away. But you will be returning to that world as soon as it can be made safe for you.”

I stumbled over a tree root, impossible to see even by the faint glow of Cressida’s skin. “Don’t you want me to stay here?” I asked, a plaintive note in my voice. “Everyone else does.”

“You don’t belong here,” she said gently.

“That doesn’t seem to bother Royven or Rowena or Jaxon. Or me,” I added as an afterthought. “Why does it bother you?”

“I wish you
could
stay in Alora and live among us, beloved and beautiful,” she said in a soft voice. “If it were any other young human girl who had wandered across our borders, I would do everything in my power to convince her to stay. I myself invited your mother to come live with the aliora—I offered her my home; I told her I would take her in as my own daughter. If she stepped across those borders tonight, I would redeem those promises, and she would never want to leave.”

“Then why shouldn’t
I
want to stay?” I asked.

“Because your mother is
not
here, and because she needs you to go home to her,” Cressida answered. “Because I owe your mother a debt too great to repay in a dozen lifetimes. I will not betray her by failing to look after you.”

“You look after me
very
well, Cressida,” I said warmly.

“And I intend to continue doing so.”

I was surprised when she did not lead me back to Rowena’s house. Instead, she escorted me to her own cottage, a much smaller place with the same whimsical, airy architecture.

“Safer here, for the night at least,” she said, making up a bed for me on the ground floor. I could feel twigs and acorns through the thick pile of blankets. “Perhaps in the morning, your mind will be clearer.”

“Perhaps,” I said drowsily, “but don’t expect miracles.”