Revel: Twelve Dancing Princesses Retold (Romance a Medieval Fairytale Book 4) Read online

  Bianca squinted at it. Now she looked more closely, she realised it was a brand, applied several times to the same barrel or just once by a particularly unsteady hand belonging to a man who'd perhaps drunk too much of his own wine. "Is it a bird of some kind?"

  Hazel nodded. "This comes specially from somewhere far to the west. It's Efe's private supply, which is why we give it to his guests." She took a jug and proceeded to fill it from the barrel.

  "Why didn't he dine with us tonight?" Bianca asked. Surely the queen's cousin would take every opportunity to dine with princesses, if only to make himself feel important.

  Hazel laughed. "Oh, he wouldn't stoop to eat with us. We're the queen's hostages to our mothers' good behaviour. Anyone too pretty or too clever or even anyone who catches our father's eye for too long winds up here. For if another wife's daughters marry better than hers, she might lose her place as principal wife and queen. Perhaps that's why he forces us to share meals with beggars and soldiers of fortune, in the hope that we're silly enough to marry them. Disgraced daughters, disgraced mothers…that would only serve to cement her power in the capital."

  Considering the idea, Bianca shook her head. "More likely she intends to leave us here to rot in spinsterhood, for any children we might have would still possess royal blood, no matter who their father was. But why would that man tonight think he had a chance to marry one of us, if he is a beggar?"

  Hazel winked. "Delusions of grandeur, I'm sure. He believes he is better than any man before him, so he will be the one to solve the mystery, winning a bride and lands that he does not deserve."

  "I have not heard of any mystery here."

  "That's because it's no mystery to us."

  Bianca opened her mouth to insist that it most definitely was a mystery to her, then closed it again as Hazel leaned in closer.

  "Wait and see. Brenna has a plan that will confound even the queen. We are the king's daughters and we will not be held prisoner against our will. Not even Efe and a whole army of beggars will stop us." With another wink, Hazel led the way up the steps to the palace proper, carrying the jug of wine.

  Five

  Several hours later, when Bianca could barely keep her eyes open, she was startled into alertness by the clatter of metal at her feet. She peered under the table. A sword, still in its scabbard, attached to an unbuckled swordbelt, lay on the flagstones.

  A snore cut through the air like a rusty saw, before something clunked to the table beside her. Bianca bumped her head painfully in her haste to see what it was this time. The man at her side had fallen face-first onto the table, and the snoring came from him.

  "Finally," Brenna said, rising. The other girls followed her example, and Bianca struggled to her feet.

  Bianca swayed, exhaustion conquering her as surely as it had the unknown man. The unknown, boring man she would sooner die than marry, she knew now.

  "I'm going to bed," Bianca mumbled, stumbling in the direction she vaguely remembered led to the bedchamber she'd share with her sisters.

  "But you must come dancing with us!" one of the other girls said.

  "'Nother night," she managed to say.

  "Let her rest," she heard Hazel say as someone took her arm, leading her. "She's been travelling all day. Tomorrow, she can dance."

  Dance? Bianca could do many things, but dancing wasn't one of them. Grace was not one of her virtues. She opened her mouth to say so, but all that came out was an unintelligible yawn, followed by another one.

  Somehow, she found herself on a soft surface. A bed, she hoped, but she was too tired to care, as sleep enticed her into a dream where dogs drank wine, beggars wore silk and princesses served their every whim as crows cawed from the heavens.

  Six

  Waking in a darkened room where the only sound was the even breathing of what Bianca thought must be a dozen sleepers disoriented her at first. She had never shared a sleeping chamber before, and the tiny cubicle that had been hers in the capital had always glowed with the first light of dawn. Groggily, she rolled out of bed, dressed, and padded to the door.

  As she reached to push it open, Bianca nearly tripped over something on the floor. She caught herself in time, and shoved the door open to let in enough light to investigate the obstacle. Bianca almost laughed at what appeared to be a pile of worn-out dancing slippers, so hard used the soles bore huge holes. They'd been piled artfully in a drift just inside the door, where anyone trying to enter or exit the room would certainly trip over them and wake everyone.

  Bianca surveyed the room, but by some magic, she hadn't woken any of her sisters. Pushing the door open wider, she stepped out of the room, and found the reason for her sisters' makeshift security measures. The adventurer who'd been sleeping on the table last night now lay snoring on a pallet beside the entrance to their room.

  Wondering whether he was supposed to be a guard or if he intended to waylay one of the girls when they emerged from their chamber, Bianca did her best to be quiet as she crossed the room and made her way to the dining hall.

  The empty table bore no signs of last night's meal, or anything with which to break her fast. Which was strange, given the sun showed it was mid-morning at least. In the women's palace at the capital, the benches would be full of minor wives, concubines and princesses, gossiping like the brightly coloured birds they resembled, as they tried to work out who was missing and hence who the king had favoured to share his bed the previous night. For it was common knowledge in the harem that he and the queen had not shared a bed since she bore his son and heir.

  But there would be no such gossip here. The girls all shared a room, and would continue to do so until they died old maids. Unloved, untouched and unwanted. It was no surprise Brenna had brought her little dog along. It was a wonder no one else had pets. If she was forced to live in exile here for the rest of her days, Bianca might consider getting one. A cat, perhaps.

  She found her way to the kitchen, where it sounded like the household servants were having their breakfast.

  "Anyone willing to place a wager on the latest one?" Bianca heard one girl ask.

  A loud snort silenced the rest of them. "That one? Guzzled his wine down like he'd never tasted it before. Probably hadn't. No one will solve the mystery, least of all these adventurers who keep showing up. When it was princes and such, maybe they had a chance, but these men? I wouldn't trust them anywhere near my daughters, and I don't know why the king does."

  Someone made hushing sounds. "Don't talk treason. You never know who's listening."

  The woman wouldn't be silenced. "It's no treason to speak the truth. I don't know why the king does what he does. But if he's so desperate to see this mystery solved, seems to me he'd only have to question the girls. Not send in some stranger to investigate for him. It sounds like something out of a story, from someone with too much imagination. Next thing you know, there'll be witches and curses and magical gifts, and someone will fall in love."

  "You'd better hope none of the princesses falls in love with one of those men. The king would never let one of his daughters marry a nobody."

  A clatter told Bianca they were clearing the table.

  "But he wouldn't be a nobody any more if he solves the mystery, will he? Even if the man is a beggar, he'd become master of this house."

  "Yes, but if they were to fall in love before he solved the mystery…"

  Someone laughed. "Then he'd better solve the mystery, or lose his love!"

  Dying to ask more about this mystery, but not wishing them to know what she'd overheard, Bianca scuffed her feet deliberately along the flagstones before she entered the kitchen. She found all eyes on her for a stunned moment before they were lowered in respect.

  "Your highness," a woman murmured, and the rest chorused something similar.

  "I've recently arrived," Bianca began, "so I don't know when or where meals are served here. I fear that I have missed breakfast, yet I am so hungry…"

  "I'll fetch you something directly, your
highness," a girl said, bobbing in such a way that Bianca wasn't sure if she was trying to bow or curtsey. Both, maybe. "Where would you like to be served?"

  Bianca was stunned into silence for a moment. Never before had she been given a choice in such a thing. A minor princess ate at the common table in the harem, sitting in a spot designated by her rank. For the first time in her life, Bianca was her own mistress. The freedom both frightened and exhilarated her.

  "I will eat in the hall where we dined last night," she said breathlessly.

  As if reading her thoughts, the girl bobbed again and replied, "As you wish, mistress."

  Bianca managed a nod in response before she left the kitchen. Her feet felt strangely light, as though she walked on air. Free. She was free of the miasma of politics she'd lived with so long in the harem. Perhaps she could even…

  She returned to the kitchen. "Once I am finished eating, have someone saddle my horse. I wish to ride."

  Bianca half expected someone to tell her she couldn't, or caution her against leaving the palace, but the only reply she relieved was a colourless, "Yes, mistress," from one of the people bustling about.

  An hour later, when she sat astride the same horse she'd ridden yesterday, Bianca could barely believe it. No one came out to stop her. Why, she could kick the mare into a gallop and leave all this behind forever, if she chose.

  For a moment, Bianca was tempted, but she resisted. She knew little of the world outside the walls of the palace. There could be wild animals or anything out there. But Kun had said she was safe inside the palace estate.

  Kun. She would ride for Kun's cottage, and visit the old woman. Perhaps even practice a little magic while she was there. After all, she was free to do as she wished now.

  Bianca urged the horse into a comfortable pace, feeling a smile light up her face more brightly than the morning sun. Who knew exile would feel so good?

  Seven

  Vasco's stomach growled, reminding him that it has been many hours since he had eaten his last crust of bread. The incessant hunger pangs were almost enough to make him forget the pain in his knee. In battle, he had scarcely felt the prick of the arrow as it worked its way between his armour, so it was a cruel twist of fate indeed that with every step he took, he had to grit his teeth as pain pierced his knee again and again. Such a small wound had yet made him unfit for war, so his commanding officer had kindly chosen to send him home.

  For a married man, or one with any family at all, this would be a blessing. For Vasco, whose entire family had been slaughtered before his village was burned to the ground by the enemy, it was the worst kind of curse. No home, no family, nowhere to go, nothing to do. Vengeance had spurred him to join the army in the first place, but he lost his taste for violence as quickly as it had come. It was too late to protect those he had lost. No matter how many lives he took, he could not bring them back. So he had learned to fight for families and homes that were not his own. If he could save just one village, or someone's parents and brothers and sisters, someone's wife and children, so that no one else had to endure the emptiness inside that ate at him every day, perhaps Vasco would understand why his life had been spared.

  Now, understanding eluded him. He had killed, and he had survived, but a single arrow had ended his purpose. So he wandered, doing whatever work he could to earn enough to eat, and sometimes even a place to sleep at night. Or he could, if he saw another soul he could ask for work. These woods he'd wandered into confounded him. The road stretched empty before and behind him, and he had not seen even a single dwelling for two days. If he did not find somewhere soon, he would have to hunt for food. Vasco's lips curled with distaste at the thought of having to use his bow. He was a foot soldier, not an archer, but fate seemed to wish it otherwise.

  A hundred steps, he promised himself. He would walk a hundred more steps, and if he did not see any sign of civilisation, he would attempt to make camp and hunt for something for dinner.

  Even if it involved… ten, eleven, twelve… archery. He grimaced. He counted forty-seven steps as he rounded a bend, but the forest hugged the road as happily as before. At seventy-nine, climbing a rise in the road, he almost considered changing it to two hundred steps or maybe even three. But the pain in his knee was growing insistent. He needed to stop, and soon. Sighing, Vasco topped the rise. And stopped.

  At first, he only saw one house, tucked between the trees. But as his eyes adjusted, he realised he wasn't looking at an isolated cottage in the woods, but enough of them to count as a town. The trees had been thinned to allow space for the houses, but they still towered above them, hiding the place from watchful eyes as they kept their secrets. Though what sort of watchful eye could spy on a village from the very sky itself, Vasco did not know. In fact, he almost laughed at himself for entertaining such a strange notion. Eyes in the sky, indeed! Why, they would have to belong to birds.

  Concluding that hunger had scrambled his wits, Vasco resolved to deal with that first. As was his custom when arriving at a new place, he first took stock of the businesses. After all, a thriving business was more likely to have work for him than a humble cottage. He might be lame, jobless and homeless, but Vasco was too proud to beg. As long as he could work to pay for a meal, he was not yet worthless. He squinted at the first shop sign. It showed a garish coloured woman's shoe that no woman he'd ever met could afford. Only a queen or perhaps a princess would wear something in such a bright shade of purple.

  But it might tempt a woman who had heard too many fairytales and dreamed of one day being a queen. She might then choose to enter the shop, so that the shoemaker might grant her a smaller dream: that of a new pair of shoes. Perhaps it was not as silly a sign as he'd thought. And a clever shoemaker who could turn a fine profit might have need of a hard worker, and the wherewithal to pay him. This was as good a bet as any.

  Vasco pushed open the door and stepped inside. A bell tinkled, announcing his presence before he could open his mouth.

  "You are early, sir," a voice said. A man appeared in a doorway behind the counter, his eyes widening when he caught sight of Vasco. "You are not one of the palace servants, unless the king has spent so much money on shoes that he can no longer clothe his servants in proper livery." He laughed as if this was some sort of joke.

  Vasco's voice was grave. "I served the king as a faithful soldier, until my superiors said the wounds I had received in battle made me unfit to fight any more." He spread his hands wide. "Now, I ask if you have any work I might do, so that I might earn a meal and perhaps a bed for the night, to help me make my way home." Vasco did not say that he no longer had a home. He had already learned that it was unwise to mention the possibility of staying in a village where he was a stranger. Better to earn a place through hard work and then be invited to stay. His village had been no different. His heart tightened in his chest. At least, it had been. Now, there was no one left but strangers. For all his own people were dead.

  The shoemaker squinted at him. "A soldier, eh? Have you any experience in making shoes?"

  Vasco shook his head. "I wear shoes, but the making of them is a mystery to me." He managed a faint smile.

  The shoemaker sighed. "Then you are out of luck, wounded soldier. I could do with a skilled assistant for I am busier than I ever believed possible. But I have no time to train an apprentice, especially one who has never shown any interest or aptitude for making ladies' shoes."

  Vasco bowed his head. "I understand," he said. "Would you know of any other business in town who might be able to offer me a day's work?" He did not let desperation colour his tone yet. After all, he had gone longer without food before.

  The shopkeeper grimaced. "If this were any other town, you would have more luck. But this is Slipper Town, and our trade is shoes for the palace. If you're not a shoemaker, there is no work for you here."

  A whole town of shoemakers? Vasco found that hard to believe. In the capital, perhaps, but out here, in the middle of the woods? "Who buys so many shoes?" Vasco dem
anded.

  "The king, of course," the shopkeeper replied cheerfully. "He has many wives, and many daughters. And each must have shoes befitting a lady of the court."

  Vasco frowned. "But the court is far from here, surely."

  The shopkeeper chuckled. "Ah, but the Summer Palace is very close. And the princesses there need more shoes than the rest of the court put together." He winked, as though they shared a secret.

  A secret Vasco did not know, but what cared he for princesses? He was a lowly soldier, who would never be allowed to catch a glimpse of such a high lady. He would happily live and die with no knowledge of such strange creatures. There was but one woman he wished to see again, but as long as he lived, he would only see her in his dreams. She had perished along with the rest of his village.

  The shopkeeper's voice broke through his reverie. "Perhaps you should ask at the palace." The shopkeeper coughed. "With so many of the king's precious daughters in residence, the palace is surely in need of more guards."

  Vasco thanked him for his advice, and ask for directions to the palace. Vasco was surprised to hear that it was but an hour or two's travel from the village – he could reach the palace by nightfall. Thanking the man once more, Vasco returned to the road.

  From the array of signs showing similarly brightly coloured slippers, he realised the truth of the shoemaker's words. This was indeed Slipper Town. A town of shoemakers and little else. The palace must be large indeed, with hundreds of female residents, to keep so many tradesmen in business. Perhaps even large enough to offer him a bed and meals for the rest of his life.