The King's Daughters (30 page)

I nodded, thinking that blue roses were like flying horses, they didn't really exist. Then again, I had seen the Baba's house . . . and a house with giant chicken legs shouldn't exist either. Feeling a tad more hopeful, I began combing through the garden for the elusive blue rose bush. After having been stabbed and scratched by thorns one too many times, I was on the verge of giving up when I spotted a peculiar colored blossom on my right.

"Eva," I called. "Come see this one."

She rushed to my side and crouched in front of the bush. "It's not blue." Her tone was heavy with disappointment. All right, the rose was pale lavender; still it was an odd and unusual color for a rose.

Brushing back the lower branches of the shrub, I uncovered a small sign planted in the soil at the foot of the rose bush. BLUE LADY ROSE was written on it.

Eva sighed. "I suppose we have no other option." Clipping the only three flowers that were in bloom on the bush, Eva then opened the glass box she had brought along and pinned the roses in the wet sea sponge inside it. Once the roses were safely tucked away in the box, she asked, "Amir, do you remember the road to the Baba's house?"

"No. But I think I know how to find it."

* * *

Our next stop was at Master Auguste Ramblais's place, the alchemist's tower. While Eva talked with a flabbergasted Auguste—obviously he's never been visited by a princess before—I made good use of his telescope. Just as I had expected, I didn't see the house. However, I spotted a clearing in the forest with a thin plume of chimney smoke rising from its center. After taking notes of the diverse reference points visible, I felt confident that I could find the place again without too much difficulty. Next thing I knew, we were outside trotting toward the forest on horseback.

Well, finding my way to the Baba's house proved slightly more complicated than I had anticipated. Twice, I led us in the wrong direction. And when I finally oriented myself properly and we began making progress, the snowdrift became so deep and the forest so heavily treed that we were forced to leave the horses behind. So it was on foot that we neared the clearing where the Baba lived.

"There's the house." I pointed to the log cabin peeking in and out of sight through the trees. "Let's run."

Eva gripped the hem of my coat, holding me back. "No, Amir. We cannot barge in on her like that. We must be respectful. There are rules to follow."

"She's a witch and possibly a kidnapper. I don't see why we should respect her at all."

"Please, Amir, for my sisters' sake let's proceed my way."

After a long period of brooding silence, I agreed to her demand . . . reluctantly though.

On Eva's order, we made our way toward the front of the house and approached it slowly, following a long, narrow alley. I scrutinized the two skulls atop the house, and, sure enough, the moment we stepped onto the alley, their black empty eye sockets glowed with an ominous red light.

Holding the glass box in plain view in front of her, Eva soldiered on bravely. She looked so stoical in her mourning clothes; her hair simply braided and pinned around her head. At that instant, my love for her was deeper than ever.

Pacing my steps to hers, I walked proudly at her side. Movement at the foundation level of the house caught my eye. One of the giant claws, the only part of the chicken legs now visible, had moved. That worried me because if the house rushed us all of a sudden, I doubted there would be enough time for us to move out of its way—not from this short of a distance.
Look away. There is nothing you can do now, so look away.

I focused on the house's door. Painted a deep forest green, it stood out against the pale wood logs that made up the rest of the house. As I was staring at it, the green door silently opened.

My body reacted by tensing up.

Beside me, Eva swallowed hard. Yet, without missing a step, she moved on toward the opened door. Well, I thought, it seemed like this time the Baba was home.

Side by side, we climbed the steps leading up to the door and entered the witch's house.

* * *

The welcoming warmth and pleasant glow of the fireplace bathed the entire room.

Immediately I saw the cauldron of brew boiling over the fireplace. I swiftly diverted my gaze from it, fearing that its sight might bring back some horrible visions. It was then that I noticed the woman seated in the wooden rocking chair in the corner of the room.

She was busy knitting while gently rocking herself back and forth. This woman, which I knew couldn't be anyone else but the Baba, wasn't old—middle-aged was my guess—nor was she ugly. She had a sort of wholesome beauty that was simple and earthy. With her shiny brown braids streaked with a hint of gray, round rosy cheeks, and warm brown eyes, their corners marked with tiny crow's-feet, she reminded me of Kathia, Dimitry's wife. To me, she was the kind of women that perfectly embodied motherhood and was the salt of the earth. Not at all the portrait I had in mind for a witch. She looked nothing like the monstrous hag with stony teeth described by the peasants, either.

While her fingers continued moving the blue yarn around her knitting needles with a sharp
click, click, click
, her attention slowly rose from her work, and she made eye contact with me.

Goose bumps rose all along my spine.

"Greetings, Prince Amir. If I'm not mistaken, you've been in my home before." Her voice was a velvety alto as soft and as rich as Kathia's pudding. Her alert eyes moved to Eva standing just beside me. "Princess Eva, you are always welcome in my home. Very few people know how to properly approach my steps, and rarer still are those who know to bring the proper offering."

Eva squeezed the box against her coat. "Good Baba, I'm afraid my roses might not be of the right shade."

From the comfort of her chair, the Baba smiled kindly. "Don't be afraid my child. Yours and Prince Amir's hearts are good. I know you've meant well by coming here. Now come closer and show me those roses."

We obeyed and approached the rocking Baba.

With trembling hands, Eva extended the glass box forward.

Upon seeing the roses kept inside, my eyes widened in disbelief. They weren't lavender anymore, but sky blue.
They changed color, that's not possible.
Unless it was the unusual warm glow of this room that made them look this color. I couldn't tell.

The Baba let her knitting needles drop beside her chair, took the box, and opened it. Plucking out one of the roses, she brought it to her nose. "Mmm," she gave, breathing in the strong tea scent emanating from the rose. "They are perfect. See, you've worried for nothing."

I watched the tension that had captured Eva's body release its hold on her. Her shoulders relaxed, and she sighed in relief.

The Baba twirled the rose between her fingers. "You know the rule, Princess. Ask."

"My sisters. I want my sisters back. I know they're here!"

The Baba nodded. "Clever! You found a way of asking without wasting a question." She paused, and I noted that a profound sadness now marked her face. "My poor dear child, your sisters are indeed in my care. However, I doubt you'll want them back at your side in their present state."

Eva stepped up. "Why did you steal them in the first place? Why?"

The Baba arose from her rocking chair and, with a gesture meaning for us to follow her, she walked into the adjacent bedroom. "Look," she said, indicating the window.

I remembered that window, it opened to her enclosure. In the morning sun, I could now see the mouth of the cave clearly. A huge brown bear lay in front of it. I spotted another one roaming on the east side of the cave, and the movements in the nearby shrubs were probably caused by a third bear.

Eva turned away from the window and glared at the Baba. "Why are you showing me these bears? This is not what I've asked you."

The Baba looked at me. "You understand but she doesn't." She shook her head. "To answer your questions, Princess, I didn't steal your sisters. It is true that I do steal children who trespass on my ground. But I have never invaded anybody's home to steal their children, or transformed anyone into bears. And I'm showing you these bears because they are your sisters."

"What!" Eva's gaze returned to the animals in the enclosure. "Those aren't my sisters. One of those bears attacked us. They killed that rabid beast, so it cannot be true." She faced the Baba again. "I refuse to believe this. It's a lie. It's not true."

"Princess, you know I cannot lie. These are the rules," said the Baba.

Eva aimed pleading eyes toward me. "Amir, say it isn't true."

"I'm so sorry, Eva. It's the truth; these bears are your sisters. They are victims of an enchantment."

Eva let out a whimper; fat tears began rolling down her cheeks. I tried taking her in my arms. At first, she fought back my embrace, then she became limp and I was able to close my arms around her and rock her gently.

Burying her face in the crease of my neck, Eva sobbed softly. "Noo, noo, noo" she lamented, as reality set in. "The bear that attacked us, the one that was killed—Oh, this means . . . OH NO!" she cried. "Which one . . . which one of my sisters died?"

Tightening my grip around her shoulders, I whispered in her ear, "Thalia. It was Thalia."

Eva cried loudly. I had never seen her this distraught before. It was literally tearing me apart inside to see her this way. Worse yet, there was nothing I could do to fix this, absolutely nothing. I hated being this helpless.

Eva turned teary, desperate eyes to the Baba. "Can you free them? Can you break the spell?"

"If it were mine, yes. But as I have nothing to do with it, I cannot. Only the person responsible for their enchantment holds the key to break it."

"Who has done this then?"

"Ah-ah-ah!" The Baba wagged a finger at Eva. "Three roses, three questions. You know the rules."

"
Pleeease
, oh please," begged Eva.

"Princess, breaking this rule will endanger my life. I will cease to exist. We magical beings are bound to live by strict rules. Very few of us can break them without paying a terrible price. I'm sorry, Princess. I cannot answer any more questions. However, if you're willing to stay a little longer, I can tell you a story."

We agreed and followed the Baba to the front room. Once we were back in its warm bright light, I saw that our host wasn't the vibrant middle-aged woman who had welcomed us at our arrival. Old, bent, and wrinkled, the Baba was now an elderly woman with slow and painful movements.

"Time for my rose infusion," she said in a crackling voice.

I watched her take one rose, pluck out its petals with bony-knuckled fingers, and drop them in a teapot. Then she poured steaming hot water on top of it. A strong rose-tea aroma embalmed the entire room. At the same time a wave of tingling traveled through my entire body, starting down at my feet and ending at the roots of my hair. I found this sensation oddly pleasant, not at all like the brutal jolt of energy I often felt when dealing with magic. This feeling was as light and as delicate as the caress of a feather on one's skin. Intrigued, I questioned why her magic felt so different to me. As I gazed at the Baba's cozy interior, the answer became clear in my mind.
White magic! That's why it feels so . . . so soft, so benign
.

I looked up at the Baba and gasped. She was young again—well, middle-aged. For the space of an instant, I was submerged by memories of my father, of his last days, of how the curse placed on him had made him grow old quickly, then young again. These were bad memories saturated with feelings of failure, sorrow and helplessness.

As I struggled to get rid of these emotions, the Baba quietly sipped her rose infusion while observing me with great interest. Lowering the small wooden bowl serving her as a cup, she addressed me: "Prince Amir, I'm sorry. If I had known that witnessing my change of appearance would convey such painful thoughts to you, I would've been more careful."

Stunned, I stiffened. Had she read my mind?

"No, I read your expression." She smiled. "I've promised you a story. Now it's time for me to tell it to you."

The Baba walked to her rocking chair, and after having made herself comfortable, she began her story. "Years ago, a child ventured on my land, an impudent girl, as young girls often are. I captured her and offered her a deal. The same one I offer to all the unfortunate children who trespass on my land. She could either serve me, which would extend her life, or refuse and be returned to the eternal cycle of life."

I frowned. "The eternal cycle of life? I don't—"

Eva poked me in the ribs. "It means she'll end up in the Baba's cauldron," she murmured through the corner of her mouth.

Horror struck. I stared at the cauldron of boiling brew hanging over the fire.

"Life and death are links of the same chain," said the Baba, her eyes staying fixed on me. "Life, death, life, death, it's a repeating pattern that goes on forever. Anyway, to return to my story, the girl chose to serve me. And served me well, she did. So well in fact that after a number of years I felt compelled to grant her her freedom. However, freedom wasn't the only gift I bestowed on her. She returned to her former life with some useful knowledge, knowledge she had learned here, with me. Later, she became a healer."

A light illuminated my mind. "Isabo!" I exclaimed. "The girl was Isabo. She mentioned that she'd been kidnapped when young; and her gift at potion-making, she learned it here. That's . . . that's . . . " There was something else, something important I was missing. Something I should know by now.
Oh, could it be this simple
. I looked at the Baba's kind features. "That's why Isabo led the bears here—to protect them."

The Baba nodded. "My clever Isabo quickly recognized the bears for what they truly were. She feared the princesses would be killed. In their enchanted state, they are subject to the beastly nature of their forms. However, some of their original essence remains, and it leads them to seek out familiar ground."

"They see the castle as their home. That's why they kept returning there."