All my love,
Iseult
“Oh, Iz,” she breathed, then pressed the envelope to her aching heart.
She stayed that way for a long moment, arms straining to push enough counter pressure against the crack in her chest that her breath might pass through once more.
At least as much as her current attire allowed.
She’d found the book in her hunt for the dress. The wardrobe had been shuffled again, all those Dhaliaan sheaths replaced with rows of pretty, practical day dresses in every colour imaginable. They were beautiful, and it must have taken skilled hands several long hours to unpick the embroidery in all the right places, just to sew some pockets into her skirts. She’d resolved to find out the names of the palace tailors and thank them accordingly. Thank her aunt, too; the gesture had not gone unnoticed.
But at the mention of a ball and a night spent dancing with the merrow, she’d recalled a certain gown she’d glimpsed stuffed into her trunk. It shimmered in the back of her mind and, she eventually discovered, in the back of her wardrobe. Skirts of overlapping blue shadow, dotted with ice diamonds like stars in a night sky. A plunging velvet bodice.
A very pink-cheeked Merrow King.
Her own cheeks warming, Adeline had stripped off her robe right there in the wardrobe and stepped immediately into the dress. If she hadn’t—if she had just wrestled it from the railing and turned away—she might not have noticed the shoe box hidden beneath its tumbling hem. She might not have discovered the treasure within.
She looked down, finally, at her little sister’s gift; the enchanted storybook she had given Iseult for New Winter, what felt like years ago now. A lifetime. A different version of herself, someone worthy of the same affectionate reminiscing that Izzy inspired.
Maybe you can use it to stay safe.
The innocence of those words brought a prickle of heat to her eyes, and Adeline had to turn her gaze to the ceiling to avoid spilling tears over her makeup.
Shereallydid not have time for a breakdown at present. She could already hear the faint sound of song and laughter from somewhere in the vast gardens that told her the ball had begun, and any moment now, the attendant Eleni had arranged would be along to escort her. Adeline blinked until the threat passed, then set the envelope on her nightstand and picked up the book. The story’s title unfurled in ink once more, a little triumphantly now that she’d granted it her full attention.
The Pearl of All the World,it declared.
Not as pretty or tragic a tale asThe First Frost,perhaps, but a classic all the same. She read on, watching as an invisible hand painted that first paragraph with a border of delicate blue whorls and perfect iridescent pearls.
Many tales begin upon a distant time. This is the only story that truly begins at the beginning.
And in the beginning, there was only a lonely existence. Only the Mother, and her boundless capacity for love and magic, which echoed into the vast cavern of her own Self. The Mother wanted, more than anything, to fill that black space. To share all that she had. She wanted, and she wanted, and she wanted—
The brassy, rhythmic sound of metal on metal drew Adeline’s attention, and the book went abruptly, almost sulkily, blank. She sighed and set it down on the bedclothes— shut this time so as not to get its hopes up, inanimate object though it was.
“Yes?” she called.
“I am here to escort you, princess,” came a soft voice from outside. “I shall wait just here, please take your time.”
“No, I’m ready, thank you—just a moment.”
Adeline gave a final, wistful glance to the old tome on her bed; her little sister’s treasured parting gift. An innocent talisman, so sweet it made her teeth ache. She swept up the envelope with Izzy’s loopy handwriting, hugged it to her chest once more, then retrieved her mother’s letter from the bedside drawer and folded it carefully into the envelope. Then, sliding both notes back into the pages, Adeline set the book down on the nightstand and gave it a gentle, appreciative pat.
There now, she thought.You can protect them both.
???
Adeline was glad for her attendant—a soft-spoken older lady named Moira—for even having visited the gardens just that morning, she might never have found her way back in the dark.The ball was held outdoors on the Vanjir’s sprawling estate, beneath a swollen silver moon in a cloudless sky. The air was warm and rich with the scent of nycta flowers, and bronze lanterns had been planted like fiery trees throughout the lawn; just enough to cast golden bubbles of light here and there among a garden veiled in gentle shadow. Courtiers and guests milled about drinking floral wine in their finery, colours vivid as butterfly wings when they flitted beneath the lanterns, then muted as moths where they stepped once more into the night. They wove the air with their merriment, and Adeline could feel it, featherlight and jubilant as the cheery strings that played from somewhere across the lawn.
With a parting thanks to Moira, Adeline stepped into the gardens and wove a path between the lanternlight, keen to stick to the shadows until she found what—who—she was looking for. There were plenty of familiar faces; a cluster of courtiers she wasquitesure she was related to, though she couldn’t remember how. Papou holding forth to a group of older guests, all of whom sat in a ring of cushioned wooden chairs beneath the broadest and brightest lantern. A familiar giggle drew her attention, and she spotted Ceri across the grass, arm in arm with Alun as they weaved toward the same arboured tunnel where Adeline had found refuge from the relentless midday heat. They each held a glass of wine in their free hand, and from the way both brims sloshed with every step, it was far from the first glass for either of them.
Their open giddiness made her chestthrob, a sudden, vicious pang of longing for home, and Ger, and laughter.
Alun was the first to see her; she’d begun to cross eagerly toward them, but stopped in her tracks at the very adamant jerkof his head. She raised a brow, a little offended, until he sent her a glassy, wide-eyed look she could read even in the dark.
A moment alone,the look pleaded.
And it dawned on Adeline that she wasnotthe only one with a tangle of undeclared feelings to pick over. She nodded her understanding, and would have turned away at Al’s grateful nod, had Ceri not followed his gaze—and immediately squealed.
