The Princess Curse
Read The Princess Curse Online
Authors: Merrie Haskell
Merrie Haskell
The Princess Curse
Dedication
For Dann and Kayla,
with much love and extreme snark
Romanian Words That Appear in this Story
balaur
(bah-law-ow-er): a type of dragon, less human and more draconic
căpcăun
(kup-kahn): a dogheaded ogre
doamnă
(doh-ahm-nah): a lady, a gentlewoman
doamnule
(dwahm-noh-lay): lord, sir
hultan
(hool-tun): a wizard (plural:
hultani
)
Muma Pădurii
(moo-mah pah-do-ree): an old “witch of the forest” fairy-tale character who enslaves and eats children
stăpână
(stah-pih-nah): a term of respect, somewhere between “lady” and “mistress”; a step down from
doamnă
, but significantly stepped up from
nevastă
(“wife”)
zmeu
(dzmeh-you): in addition to being a type of dragon with a humanoid shape,
zmeu
is also the Romanian word for “kite” (as a kite flies like a dragon) (plural:
zmei
)
Contents
Romanian Words That Appear in this Story
T
hree days after my thirteenth birthday, Armas, the Executioner and Chief of Prisons, came for me while I ate breakfast.
“Apprentice,” Armas said, his cold voice freezing the thyme pie in my throat. “Princess Consort wants you.”
Cook whispered behind me, “Too many pies.” I almost erped with worry. I didn’t think they actually jailed people for eating too much in Sylvania, but they probably did punish new apprentices for insubordination. And I had been a tad insubordinate to my master.
I slid from my stool, feeling stiff and weak. But I held my head high and marched ahead of Armas into the courtyard while the castle kitchen burst into excited chatter behind us. My stomach knotted and tumbled harder, and I wished for a pinch of mint to settle it.
Halfway across the courtyard, I asked Armas, “Did the Princess Consort say why—?”
“Oh, sure,” Armas said. “Princess Consort tells me just everything.”
I fell silent. I’d not known him to be capable of such sarcasm.
We stepped into the great hall, and I said, “I don’t suppose my father . . .” But then my eyes adjusted to the dimness, and I saw Pa, waiting beside the dragon-kidnaps-a-maiden tapestry, chewing at the ends of his black mustaches.
Every step across the great hall seemed to take more effort than it should have. Pa nodded to Armas and said, “I’ve got her.” My heart fell at his tone, and I stared at the tapestry to hide my worry. I wasn’t going to be able to lie my way out of this, whatever it was. Armas, maybe, I could lie to. Armas, maybe, I could trick into mercy. But with Pa, there would be no chance to lie. Or even to stretch the truth into a pleasing shape.
I noticed a snagged thread on the tapestry maiden’s pale cheek. It marred her face, though she was too frightened of the dragon to be pretty—and it wasn’t just any dragon, but a fire-breathing
zmeu
, trying to kiss her.
Armas gave me into Pa’s custody and went to inform the Princess Consort that I’d arrived. I stood there. Waiting. My favorite thing. I poked at the snag on the tapestry, trying to push it through to the other side of the cloth, mostly to avoid looking at Pa.
“Well, Reveka?” Pa asked. He spoke in his warning voice, the voice that had once caused thousands of men to shake in their boots but now mostly kept a lot of junior gardeners attentive to their shovels.
“I know your rule, Pa,” I said, exasperated but trying to sound calm.
Like I would lie right in front of Pa.
I poked harder at the thread. It wanted to go through. It wanted to disappear.
“It’s not just a rule, Reveka.”
“I know. It’s also a promise.” I wrinkled my nose, trying not to think why I’d had to promise Pa never to lie. I twisted the snagged tapestry threads together, hoping that would make them look smaller, at least.
Pa swatted my hand away from the tapestry. “You’ll unravel the whole thing, and you’ve no skill to put it back together.” I still wouldn’t face him, so he grabbed hold of my chin to make me meet his eye. “You need not be truthful for my sake, but your own. What kind of reputation do you want to have around the castle, and with the Princess Consort?”
I didn’t have a chance to answer before Armas came out of the solar. He gave Pa a deep nod, then ambled away. A minor relief: Armas wasn’t standing by to drag me off for a beating.
Of course, Pa had a strong arm, too.
Giving me the tight grimace that was supposed to be his smile, Pa guided me into the Princess Consort’s solar.
Princess Daciana, Prince Vasile’s child bride, sat sewing in a pool of morning sunlight, a red-and-black military banner spilled across her lap. She looked so calm and regal, it was hard to remember that she’d been Princess Consort for only two years, since she had turned thirteen. It would be like me getting married this year—except the common folk don’t marry so young, being more sensible than the higher folk.
Brother Cosmin stood by, looking half scarecrow, half asleep, and completely annoyed. Brother Cosmin was the herbalist of Castle Sylvian, and my master, and if anyone had a grievance against me, it was probably him. Still, I hadn’t thought that he’d take my arguments about herbs so personally, as such a challenge that he’d drag me before the Princess Consort for punishment. He didn’t look happy to be here, though. Maybe because it was before noon.
Pa went to stand beside Brother Cosmin, leaving me to face the Princess.
“So, Konstantin? This is your daughter?” Princess Daciana asked.
“Her name is Reveka, Highness,” Pa said, while I folded my hands in my apron and examined the red and black dragons painted on the high ceiling beams. Dragons were Prince Vasile’s heraldic animal, and dragons twined all over Castle Sylvian, carved into doorways, woven into carpets. They were even embroidered onto the hem of Princess Daciana’s dress.
“Reveka,” the Princess Consort said, holding a needle in the air between us and squinting at me through the tiny eye. “Tell me how you chose the herbs for my stepdaughters’ bath this morning.” She stabbed a spit-smoothed thread through the needle’s eye and bent her head to continue sewing.
I stared at her. This was about the bath herbs? I was having an interview with the Princess Consort about
bath herbs
? A memory came to me from earlier this morning. When the princesses—Princess Daciana’s stepdaughters, all twelve of them older than she—had entered the bath, Princess Maricara had sniffed the air and asked Marjit the Bathwoman if she’d been eating cabbage soup. I hadn’t stayed to hear the answer. I hadn’t thought anything of it, really. Cabbage has a strong smell, but—
Brother Cosmin frantically billowed the brown sleeves of his robe in my direction, urging me to answer.
“The cabbage was supposed to reduce the princesses’ vigor,” I said.
The Princess Consort frowned. Oops—I’d left off her honorific. I mumbled, “Mostnobleserenehighness,” and curtsied poorly.
The Princess coughed spasmodically. I wondered if her lungs were wet. She
looked
healthy; no roses of illness bloomed in her cheeks. Too bad. I knew some impressive herbs to ease the pains of consuming sicknesses.
“How, pray tell, did concern about their vigor bring you to make my stepdaughters smell like—and I quote Princess Lacrimora—‘hill cottagers at sup’?”
Oh, Easter!
“Well,” I said in my best Professional Herbalist voice, “cabbage cures inflammations. It calms swellings in the liver, where the soul dwells, and the brain, where the animal feelings arise. So. Cabbage might help the princesses sleep right through the nightly effects of the curse. That way . . .” I trailed off, suddenly acutely conscious that the Princess had abandoned her banner to a crumpled pile in her lap and was regarding me curiously.
I added, “I didn’t think the smell would be a problem.”
The Princess Consort compressed her lips. “I’m glad to have someone working on the princesses’ plight, Reveka, but you must refrain from making their bathwater smell like soup—or stew, or any sort of kitchen-made item—in the future. My stepdaughters are princesses. Tonight they must charm the Saxon delegation, for Princess Tereza is to meet her betrothed. We cannot have anyone smelling like cabbage rolls.”
“Yes, Most Noble and Serene—”
“And, of course, that is simply no way to go about breaking a curse, either. Curses don’t like to be broken.” She tapped her thin nose delicately. “Subtlety, Reveka. A curse should never smell you coming.”
“Of course, Most Noble—”
“Now then, your punishment. You must apologize to Marjit the Bathwoman, who was so distressed by what occurred this morning.”
I waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. “That’s all?” I blinked, surprised.
Pa shook his head at me in warning, but the Princess smiled. “That is all, Reveka. You and Brother Cosmin may go.”
I was astonished. I’d had no clue what I’d done wrong when I was summoned—though that wasn’t so unusual a circumstance in my lifetime—and I had expected the worst. But apologizing to Marjit was barely a punishment! Though that didn’t mean that Brother Cosmin and Pa might not each have something extra in mind for me later, just to make sure I understood my transgression.