“What is it?” I asked.
Hyacinth gave me a sidelong smile and gestured toward the water. “I need a night flower,” he replied. “You can find them at the bottom of this ocean, inside a hidden cave. I’m unable to get there myself. You see, I cannot swim well.”
“These flowers grow inside an underwater cave?” I said.
“Yes,” he replied. “This cave is a lovely grotto, and inside lives an old witch, with wrinkled hands and long white hair. I sealed her in the cave long ago with the rising waters, and she has remainedthere ever since. She has stayed there for so long, in fact, that her feet have become part of the cavern floor. She cannot move from her spot, and her powers, although terrible, weaken when the twin moons are not aligned. Still, you must be careful. She can call great golden fire with her hands and engulf you with its flames. She feeds on the night flowers that grow along the cave walls, and anything else she manages to reach.”
Woferl’s vision of a guardian for the ocean, I thought. A sudden sadness filled my heart. “She must be very lonely,” I said.
Hyacinth turned his eyes to me. “Do not take pity on her. She will try to lure you to her with a sweet song, the most beautiful music you’ve ever heard in your life, so potent that sometimes sailors can hear it across many oceans. They call her the Queen of the Night.” He stepped closer to us. “Do not approach her. Do not look into her eyes. Do not talk to her. She is not what she seems.”
I swallowed, distracted by his nearness, and promised that we would not.
He turned away from us and pointed out toward the still waters. Not far from the shore lay a series of rock formations, carved from limestone, and when I looked from a different angle, the moonlight washed them into silver.
“The grotto lies under the water, in those rocks,” he said. “The waters are low right now, so you and your brother will have a bit of time to get the flower. Do not be fooled by this peaceful ocean. It will rise so steadily that you will not realize it until it’s too late.”
Woferl listened with a determined look on his face. “We are very brave,” he said, looking up at me. “I’m not afraid.”
The princeling smiled at him. “You are indeed very brave,” he replied, and looked back toward the rocks. “It’s why I’ve chosen you both for this task. Now, you must hurry.”
I did not feel brave, but Hyacinth looked so calm, and Woferl so eager, that I nodded and started toward the water. The echo of applause from my performance in Vienna, the look of pride on my father’s face... they came back to me now, filling me with the memory of joy. I had told Hyacinth I was ready, and so I was. My mind lingered on the night flower that we needed to retrieve.
I removed my slippers. Then I waded carefully in, holding my breath in anticipation of cold ocean water. But the instant we dipped our feet into it, I realized that it was as warm as a bath, just as Woferl had said. I smiled in surprise. Woferl let out a giggle at the warmth and splashed right into it, getting water all over my nightgown. I looked back to the shore once we’d gone in waist-deep. Hyacinth watched us from where he had sat down in the sand, his stiltlike legs crossed over each other.
We swam until the rocks in the distance became very close, so that I could make out their jagged edges and the carpets of moss that grew in clumps on their backs. When we were near enough to touch the walls of the rocks, I wiped water away from my face and looked down into the ocean. The water looked lit from below, a brilliant blue. I took a deep breath and submerged myself to get a better view.
Not far from the surface appeared a crevice in the rock.
I came back up. “Woferl,” I said breathlessly. “I’ve found the entrance to the grotto.”
Hyacinth was right. The ocean had not risen yet, and the waters were low. We did not have to dive far to reach the grotto’s entrance. The crevice looked dark when we approached it, but as we swam farther inside it began to grow lighter, the same strange blue light that we had seen when we first saw the beach of whitesand. I took a giant gulp of air as we surfaced inside the cave. The water tasted sweet, like diluted honey.
I could hear nothing in the grotto except the sounds we made—the splash of water, our breathing. The light came from hundreds of flowers that grew along the sides of the limestone walls, black and violet in color, each with a glowing spot of brilliant blue light in its center. The limestone itself looked wet and crystal-like, almost clear. I saw Woferl stare in wonder at the scene. Garlands of heavily scented flowers hung so low from the grotto’s ceiling that I could touch them.
Then we saw her. She stood in one corner of the grotto where the lights from the flowers shone the brightest, leaning her head against a silver harp, and there she wept silently. A long, tattered gown of white and gold draped against her slender figure. Her hair was snow-pale, like Hyacinth said, and dotted with tiny black flowers. Her skin seemed delicate, the knot of her eyebrows thin and dark. I had been afraid to see her, picturing her as a withered, bony, witchlike faery, but now I felt drawn to this poor creature. Wrinkles on her skin, soft in the blue light, gave her a fragile appearance. Her feet melted into the cavern floor, so that I could not be sure where her legs ended and the rock began.
Woferl pointed quietly at her shoulders. There, I saw that her wings were faded and torn, hanging limply against her back. She must have fought hard to escape this grotto.
Woferl guessed what was going through my mind. “She is not what she seems,” he whispered, repeating Hyacinth’s warning.
Do not look at her. Do not talk to her.
I turned my face away, my heart pounding. As I did, I noticed the black ivy trailing along the cavern wall behind her. The night flowers that blossomed there were much larger than the rest, theirvines coated with angry thorns. These were the flowers Hyacinth had sent us for.
The witch heard Woferl’s whisper too. She lifted her head and looked around, bewildered, before settling her gaze on us.
I froze. She must have been very beautiful when she was young, and even now her eyes were large and liquid like a doe’s, framed by long dark lashes and mournful shadows. She stopped crying.
“Hello,” she said. Her voice sounded very weak.
Do not speak to her.
Hyacinth’s warning seemed to echo in the cavern. But the witch’s eyes were so mournful, so intent on me, that I heard myself reply. “Hello,” I echoed. Beside me, Woferl gasped at my disobedience. We hoisted ourselves out of the water and onto the rocky floor. “I am sorry to disturb you.”
The witch smiled at us. “Not at all, dear child,” she said. “Come closer, please. My children were stolen from my side and I was sealed in this cave. I have been so lonely here, trapped for centuries without a soul to keep me company. Oh! Tell me, little one. What do the twin moons look like outside?”
I swallowed hard. The words fell from my lips as if compelled by some enchanted force. “They are bright as coins,” I said, “and sit at the opposite ends of the sky.”
