any musical instruments, either, just the
iron swords in the ornate scabbards at their hips.
Aoide lifted the smoked-glass window.
“Happy morning!” Aoide said. “I must have
eaten a luck-clover, to have three such lovely and handsome boys on
my landing porch today.”
“You are Aoide the Lutist?” asked the
Queensguard fairy who stood closest to her door, in front of the
other two. He had long hair the color of polished gold and
glittering sapphire eyes.
“I am she,” Aoide said. “I certainly hope
this is about the stolen instruments. Did you find anything?”
“Her Majesty the Queen sends you this.” He
held up a black rose in full bloom.
Aoide’s fingers covered her lips, but she
tried not to gasp or look too frightened in front of them. A black
rose could mean good fortune or ill.
He held the rose close to her face, as if
expecting her to accept it on the spot.
“Oh, I cannot possibly go to court looking
like this!” Aoide said. “I’m still in my sleeping-dress. And my
hair!” She put a hand to the tangled violet-streak mess of her hair
and backed away. “I’ll be right back! Promise!”
Aoide stepped back into her sleeping room and
drew the brightly painted dressing-screen across the doorway. She
cranked her music box to play a song while she got ready, and then
opened her rosewood clothes trunk and looked for a suitable dress.
Then she noticed her sleepy, unkempt self in the round mirror on
the wall. There wasn’t time to fly over to the bath garden, but she
needed to wash up.
She stepped out onto her back balcony to
collect fresh water from her baby blue dew-pitcher flowers, and
then gasped when she realized someone had landed there. One of the
Queensguard fairies stood on her balcony railing with his arms
crossed, quietly watching her. He’d flown over to the back of her
apartment, as if they expected her to flee.
“Happy morning, good sir!” Aoide said. She
tilted one of the water-filled, pitcher-shaped flowers forward to
rinse her face, then brushed the water back through her hair. “Mind
looking away while I dress?”
“My order is to watch this door,” he
said.
“This door, and not me, then?”
“Yes.”
“Good!” Aoide slammed the pink shutters and
slid the peg-lock into place.
She changed into her best dress, made of
specially pressed and preserved violet petals. She stained her lips
with a little elderberry juice, then raked her seashell comb
through her hair until it looked sort of presentable. Then she
pulled on her matching violet-petal slippers, since the Queen,
joyless stickler that she was, insisted people wear shoes in her
presence.
She stepped out into the front porch and
smiled at the Queensguard fairy who’d first spoken to her. “I
suppose I’m ready as I will be,” she told him.
He held out the black rose toward her. Aoide
steeled herself, then touched her finger to the bloom.
There was a smell like burning pitch, and
then she and the Queensguard fairy stood in a small, hexagon-shaped
side chamber of the Queen’s court. The floor tiles were hexagonal,
too. The tiles just below Aoide’s feet depicted a large black
rose.
Porting in through one of the black rose
chambers was the only way into the palace. Most visitors ported in
from the guardhouse at the outer wall, located where the front gate
had been before the Queen ordered it sealed. Between the outer wall
and the inner complex of palace buildings lay a vast labyrinth of
deadly traps and foul monsters, which no one intruder could hope to
survive.
“This way.” The Queensguard fairy stepped out
through an angular, arched doorway.
Aoide tried not to shiver as she followed
him. She was terrified, but she didn’t want anyone to see it.
They emerged into a great golden space that
looked like an enormous cavern built of six-sided golden tiles,
from floor to glittering roof. A thick swarm of fireflies radiated
gold and purple overhead, where they lived on the pollen of
flowering vines growing
iron swords in the ornate scabbards at their hips.
Aoide lifted the smoked-glass window.
“Happy morning!” Aoide said. “I must have
eaten a luck-clover, to have three such lovely and handsome boys on
my landing porch today.”
“You are Aoide the Lutist?” asked the
Queensguard fairy who stood closest to her door, in front of the
other two. He had long hair the color of polished gold and
glittering sapphire eyes.
“I am she,” Aoide said. “I certainly hope
this is about the stolen instruments. Did you find anything?”
“Her Majesty the Queen sends you this.” He
held up a black rose in full bloom.
Aoide’s fingers covered her lips, but she
tried not to gasp or look too frightened in front of them. A black
rose could mean good fortune or ill.
He held the rose close to her face, as if
expecting her to accept it on the spot.
“Oh, I cannot possibly go to court looking
like this!” Aoide said. “I’m still in my sleeping-dress. And my
hair!” She put a hand to the tangled violet-streak mess of her hair
and backed away. “I’ll be right back! Promise!”
Aoide stepped back into her sleeping room and
drew the brightly painted dressing-screen across the doorway. She
cranked her music box to play a song while she got ready, and then
opened her rosewood clothes trunk and looked for a suitable dress.
Then she noticed her sleepy, unkempt self in the round mirror on
the wall. There wasn’t time to fly over to the bath garden, but she
needed to wash up.
She stepped out onto her back balcony to
collect fresh water from her baby blue dew-pitcher flowers, and
then gasped when she realized someone had landed there. One of the
Queensguard fairies stood on her balcony railing with his arms
crossed, quietly watching her. He’d flown over to the back of her
apartment, as if they expected her to flee.
“Happy morning, good sir!” Aoide said. She
tilted one of the water-filled, pitcher-shaped flowers forward to
rinse her face, then brushed the water back through her hair. “Mind
looking away while I dress?”
“My order is to watch this door,” he
said.
“This door, and not me, then?”
“Yes.”
“Good!” Aoide slammed the pink shutters and
slid the peg-lock into place.
She changed into her best dress, made of
specially pressed and preserved violet petals. She stained her lips
with a little elderberry juice, then raked her seashell comb
through her hair until it looked sort of presentable. Then she
pulled on her matching violet-petal slippers, since the Queen,
joyless stickler that she was, insisted people wear shoes in her
presence.
She stepped out into the front porch and
smiled at the Queensguard fairy who’d first spoken to her. “I
suppose I’m ready as I will be,” she told him.
He held out the black rose toward her. Aoide
steeled herself, then touched her finger to the bloom.
There was a smell like burning pitch, and
then she and the Queensguard fairy stood in a small, hexagon-shaped
side chamber of the Queen’s court. The floor tiles were hexagonal,
too. The tiles just below Aoide’s feet depicted a large black
rose.
Porting in through one of the black rose
chambers was the only way into the palace. Most visitors ported in
from the guardhouse at the outer wall, located where the front gate
had been before the Queen ordered it sealed. Between the outer wall
and the inner complex of palace buildings lay a vast labyrinth of
deadly traps and foul monsters, which no one intruder could hope to
survive.
“This way.” The Queensguard fairy stepped out
through an angular, arched doorway.
Aoide tried not to shiver as she followed
him. She was terrified, but she didn’t want anyone to see it.
They emerged into a great golden space that
looked like an enormous cavern built of six-sided golden tiles,
from floor to glittering roof. A thick swarm of fireflies radiated
gold and purple overhead, where they lived on the pollen of
flowering vines growing
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