The door in the hedge became many doors, and Alora’s and Gilvan’s kingdom became almost one more vast meadow within the wide pattern of the hedges and trees of Faerieland; for as the border dissolved on one side, a new border began to grow up opposite. Fewer people came from outside to settle in that last mortal kingdom as it became less and less a last mortal kingdom; and even fewer left it to seek their fortunes elsewhere, because the look that Gilvan had first seen in Donathor’s eyes had soon settled in his own, and in those of his people. There it rooted deep.
In the end the new border grew up, wild and thick and full of thorns; for one thing that the once-mortals and the immortals had learned of each other was the heartbreak they had once each caused the other; and when their ignorance had passed, it seemed that their restlessness passed too, and from this they concluded that they could venture no further with neighbors beyond the new border. But none knew either where Senan went, for he went wherever he chose; the borders were nothing to him.
When it came time for Gilvan and Alora to retire—they having remained long enough to gloat over two granddaughters and two grandsons—Thold and Ellian decided to retire at the same time, and the four of them went together into the mountains Ellian had spoken to Linadel about at their first meeting; and where the sisters’ parents—who were no longer stout or stuffy, and looked like the finest blooms in their own garden—and much faerie majesty were there and waiting for them.
Linadel and Donathor ruled over a happy land, a wiser one than it is the fortune of most sovereigns to rule, and one of a breadth and scope that none could quite measure; and they had several more children, and convinced their respective parents to visit them somewhat more often than had been the tradition for retired majesty. Everyone was contented and some restless few were great, and tales were told of their deeds; but, except for Senan’s music, by the time that Linadel and Donathor had in their turn retired, there was no more communication with the rest of the world.
So it has been now for many long generations, more than anyone can name, for the tale has been passed from mouth to mouth too often. But the world turns, and even legends change; and somewhere there is a border, and sometime, perhaps, someone will decide to cross it, however well guarded with thorns it may be.
The Princess and the Frog
PART ONE
SHE HELD the pale necklace in her hand and stared at it as she walked. Her feet evidently knew where they were going, for they did not stumble although her eyes gave them no guidance. Her eyes remained fixed on the glowing round stones in her hand.
These stones were as smooth as pearls, and their color, at first sight, seemed as pure. But they were much larger than any pearls she had ever seen; as large as the dark sweet cherries she plucked in the palace gardens. And their pale creamy color did not lie quiet and reflect the sunlight, but shimmered and shifted, and seemed to offer her glimpses of something mysterious in their hearts, something she waited to see, almost with dread, which was always at the last minute hidden from her. And they seemed to have a heat of their own that owed nothing to her hand as she held them; rather they burned against her cold fingers. Her hand trembled, and their cloudy swirling seemed to shiver in response; the swiftness of their ebb and flow seemed to mock the pounding of her heart.
Prince Aliyander had just given her the necklace, with one of the dark-eyed smiles she had learned to fear so much; for while he had done nothing to her yet—but then, he had done nothing to any of them—she knew that her own brother was under his invisible spell. This spell he called “friendship” with his flashing smile and another look from his black eyes; and her own father, the King, was afraid of him. She also knew he meant to marry her, and knew her strength could not hold out against him long, once he set himself to win her. His “friendship” had already subdued the Crown Prince, only a few months ago a merry and mischievous lad, into a dog to follow at his heels and go where he was told.
This morning, as they stood together in the Great Hall, herself, and her father, and Prince Aliyander, with the young Crown Prince a half-step behind Aliyander’s right shoulder, and their courtiers around them, Aliyander had reached into a pocket and brought out the neckace. It gleamed and seemed to shiver with life as he held it up, and all the courtiers murmured with awe. “For you, Lady Princess,” said Aliyander, with a graceful bow and his smile; and he moved to fasten it around her neck: “a small gift, to tell you of just the smallest portion of my esteem for Your Highness.”
She started back with a suddenness that surprised even her; and her heart flew up in her throat and beat there wildly as the great jewels danced before her eyes. And she felt rather than saw the flicker in Aliyander’s eyes when she moved away from him.
“Forgive me,” she stammered; “they are so lovely, you must let me look at them a little first.” Her voice felt thick; it was hard to speak. “I shan’t be able to admire them as they deserve, when they lie beneath my chin.”
“Of course,” said Aliyander, but she could not look at his smile. “All pretty ladies love to look at pretty things”; and the edge in his voice was such that only she felt it; and she had to look away from the Crown Prince, whose eyes were shining with the delight of his friend’s generosity.
“May I—may I take your—gracious gift outside, and look at it in the sunlight?” she faltered. The high vaulted ceiling and mullioned windows seemed suddenly narrow and stifling, with the great glowing stones only inches from her face. The touch of sunlight would be healing. She reached out blindly, and tried not to wince as Aliyander laid the necklace across her hand.
“I hope you will return wearing my poor gift,” he said, with the same edge to his words, “so that it may flatter itself in the light of Your Highness’s beauty, and bring joy to the heart of your unworthy admirer.”
“Yes—yes, I will,” she said, and turned, and only her Princess’s training prevented her from fleeing, picking up her skirts with her free hand and running the long length of the Hall to the arched doors, and outside to the gardens. Or perhaps it was the imponderable weight in her hand that held her down.
But outside, at least the sky did not shut down on her as the walls and groined ceiling of the Hall had; and the sun seemed to lie gently and sympathetically across her shoulders even if it could not help itself against Aliyander’s jewels, and dripped and ran across them until her eyes were dazzled.