Читать книгу The Fairytale Trilogy - Valerie Gribben - Страница 17

Marianne’s throat caught as she watched the princess slowly get up from her bed. Penelope’s necklace swayed, the pearls knocking gently against one another. Penelope grabbed the clicking beads to strangle the sound. The princess tiptoed over to Robin, taking his measure. Penelope then returned to the bed, lying back down in her original position. The princess shot a final look at Robin before sitting up and yawning loudly. Robin returned the yawn and rubbed his nose. In consternation, Penelope swept the figurine set of sheep from her bedside table, causing a cacophony of ruin. The noise roused Robin, who gave a snort and woke up. Seeing the princess conscious, Robin tipped his chair back in shock and almost fell over.

“Sir,” cried Penelope, gathering the sheets around her, a scandalized look upon her face, “what are you doing in my chambers?”

“What are you doing awake?” Robin managed to ask.

“I will call the guards if you do not reply to me,” Penelope said, glaring at Robin.

“There are no guards to call. You were cursed by a witch, and you have been asleep for an entire year. Your castle’s pretty much a pigsty, and I’m fairly sure the lady you have answering your door is a gargoyle,” explained Robin.

“But what business do you have here?” Penelope asked, getting up from her bed.

“I’m releasing you from the curse,” said Robin, clearly proud of his intentions.

“You’re going to all this trouble just for little ole me?” said Penelope sweetly. “Sir, you deserve quite a reward for your bravery.”

“Well, I wasn’t that brave, but I have had experience rescuing people,” said Robin, blushing and boasting.

Marianne rolled her eyes. What is the matter with Robin? she thought. He never acts like this!

“You’re so gentlemanly. I know! Why don’t you take this necklace?” said Penelope, starting to take off her pearls.

“Oh,” said Robin, “Not that you need jewels to look beautiful, but I can’t take something that expensive from you.”

And I suppose ten thousand gold pieces is cheap, thought Marianne, watching Robin to see if he stayed seated.

“No, really, I insist,” Penelope cooed, batting her long eyelashes. “Oh darn! They’re stuck something awful in my hair!” she complained, indicating the pearls, now tightly trapped in her tresses. “Please come and be of service.”

“Oh, certainly!” said Robin, a dazed, infatuated look on his face as he moved from his chair and advanced toward the giggling Penelope.

With a mighty kick, Marianne propelled the grate across the room. She could see Robin reaching out, inches from Penelope. Marianne thrust her hand back inside the tunnel, reaching for her book. Instead, her hand closed on a furry object. Without thinking, she pulled out a terrified rat and flung it with all her strength at Penelope’s head. Marianne scored a direct hit, and with a bloodcurdling yowl, Penelope, the rat lodged in her hair, whirled around to Marianne. Penelope’s face contorted in a rage unlike anything earthly Marianne had ever seen. Shaking her head back and forth in an effort to expel the unwelcome passenger, Penelope lurched toward Marianne. Suddenly Penelope began to jump up and down, her screams increasing to banshee-like levels as a grubby tail disappeared down her back.

“Robin! Get back in the chair!” yelled Marianne. Robin’s face instantly registered comprehension, and he retreated.

“He’s mine!” screeched Penelope. “You’ll pay with your life for that, you little—” Her sentence was cut short as the first rays of sunlight struck her. She collapsed, shaking uncontrollably, her hands flailing as though trying to ward off an invisible enemy. With a final shriek, Penelope’s body went rigid and flopped down into a heap of pink silk and chiffon. A stupefied rat gratefully escaped from the creases of Penelope’s dress and scurried to the open portal.

Marianne looked at Robin. His sword was drawn. “I was going to stop her from hurting you,” he said, his eyes on the princess. The creaking of the door as someone unlocked it shattered the silence. The wizened housekeeper limped into the room. Upon seeing Robin and Marianne staring at her, she reeled backwards. “You’re alive!” she said, in a faltering voice.

“We are, but we’re a little worried about her,” said Robin, motioning to the messy, whining princess. The housekeeper turned and fled down the hallway, her footsteps fading as she cried, “Your Majesty! Your Majesty! The princess is awake!”

Robin chivalrously helped Penelope stand up. “What happened?” asked Penelope, holding her head. “The last thing I remember is some old hag throwing dust on me and bawling about how I’d ruined her son’s life. I mean, he was ugly! I wouldn’t even have gone out with him if Priscilla hadn’t dared me to and— Who did you say you were again?” Robin and Marianne gaped at her. “What?” she demanded.

“Frankly I’m unaccustomed to having a lovely princess waking in the night and trying to kill my sister,” replied Robin brusquely.

“You think I’m beautiful? That is so cute of you!” said Penelope, wrinkling her nose in delight.

Footsteps stopped Robin from elaborating. Into the room strode a stocky man in rich robes, attended by the hunched housekeeper. “Poppa!” cried Penelope, tumbling into his arms. “Did you miss me?”

“My darling Ellie! You will be quite ashamed to see how badly I have kept house,” said the king, trying to hold back his tears.

“I do hope the ballroom is still usable. I have fantastic plans for MY AWAKENING BALL,” she emphasized the final words with her hands, her eyes alight with the prospect of all in attendance being unbearably jealous that she had gotten to spend the year under a curse.

“We will start planning without delay,” said the king, revitalized with his daughter by his side. “We must also think of your wedding preparations.”

“To whom are you getting married?” piped up Robin.

The king gave him a puzzled look. “Why, you, of course.”

Reeling from the announcement of the impending nuptials, Marianne silently tailed the rest of the group making their noisy way to the ballroom. A green-eyed shadow crept upon her and whispered poisonous thoughts in her ear when she saw that the princess was already holding Robin’s hand and jabbering on about how spectacular their wedding would be. The king had sent the housekeeper, still shaking in amazement, to fetch the gold, and he was now nodding vigorously at Penelope’s every pronouncement. Marianne had a weird feeling of being totally invisible. She pondered the future of such an unseen state.

The king complained that the ballroom door was locked. He flung his arms up and yelled at the door, but the door insolently refused to open. Marianne saw Robin gallantly step forward and offer his assistance. The king signaled his assent, and Robin kicked the door with his thick boot. The door stayed closed, and Robin shouted in pain. This fractured Marianne’s marzipan thoughts, and she hastened forward, but Penelope was already cradling Robin in her arms. “My brave little hero!” she gushed, ruffling his hair. Marianne rolled her eyes and crossed her arms as the housekeeper returned, ushering a wheelbarrow weighed down under a gargantuan sack, golden coins peeping from the bag. Upon seeing this, Robin appeared greatly revived, to the extent of even proposing to help with the treasure. The ancient housekeeper extracted from her pocket a ring of skeleton keys, each key seemingly identical. When she moved the bundle toward the lock, however, one key separated itself from the pack and pushed itself into the lock. Marianne slid behind the king.

The doors creaked open and Marianne coughed as puffs of dust billowed around the entrance. The ballroom was in a sad state of disrepair. A layer of grime covered the marble floor, which was blue in the areas where rats had disturbed the aged coating. “Father! How could you?” cried Penelope, pursing her lips, “It will take nearly a month before the servants can scour these grungy walls!”

“Ellie, my darling, you are just the same,” said the king, in obvious delight.

“But this room isn’t!” complained Penelope, rolling the pearls of her necklace in frustration.

Perhaps it was the way that Penelope clutched and gathered the necklace around her fingers that triggered Marianne’s memory. Her thoughts soared back to Jasmine’s Journal of Jewelry Jinxes, a book whose contents had long been etched in Marianne’s mind.

“Excuse me, Penelope, but may I please have a look at your necklace?”

Penelope turned sharply and burned Marianne with a caustic eye. “And who are you?” she demanded.

“I am,” Marianne was tempted to finish, “the girl who threw a rat in your hair, and am proud of it!” but instead added, “Robin’s sister, Marianne.”

“She really is,” said Robin earnestly, looking up from the bag of money. “She helped me save you.”

“Well, I can’t marry you, too,” said Penelope, taken by her own humor.

“But you can let me examine your necklace,” replied Marianne. “Better yet, lay your necklace on the floor.”

“I will not! You can’t order me about like a serving maid!” rejoined Penelope.

“Oh, lay it on the floor, Ellie. The worst that can happen is that it will get a bit dusty,” coaxed her father.

“Fine,” Penelope spat out, pulling the pearls over her head and flinging them to the ground.

“Robin, may I have your sword?” asked Marianne, watching the necklace scrape a path in the dirt as it traveled to her.

Despite being puzzled, Robin obeyed and handed her the weapon.

“What are you doing? Stop that!” cried the housekeeper, pushing forward. With a single motion, Marianne brought the sword’s tip level with the woman’s wrinkled throat. “Move back,” warned Marianne.

“Marianne, what has gotten into you?” asked Robin. Marianne raised the sword above her head before bringing it down on the necklace, neatly severing its silk string. Marianne then picked up the necklace with the sword’s edge and gave it a shake. The pearls scattered in every direction across the grimy floor. Penelope stood dismayed at the destruction of her jewelry. In reply to Robin’s bafflement, Marianne pointed to one of the loose beads. The round pearl was elongating and reshaping itself into a human form. All around the room, Marianne watched pearls turn into men who arose holding their heads and wobbling about.

The enormous windows in the ballroom started popping out and crashing to the garden below. A furious whirling wind whipped through the room. “YOU!” accused the housekeeper. “YOU BROKE MY SPELL!” With raised hands she sought revenge on Marianne, but the spinning drafts caught the witch in their wake, and she was sucked out the window, still cursing at Marianne.

“What happened?” asked a young man, brushing up against Marianne. “The last thing I remember is that ravishing girl over there asking me to help her with her necklace.”

“You destroyed my most precious bauble, you little wretch,” Penelope sniffed.

“Hold on!” cried Robin, hurdling over a bewildered sultan to stand in front of Marianne. “You can’t talk to my sister like that!”

“Stay out of this, bird boy. This isn’t about you,” said Penelope, forcing aside a wakening beggar and squarely facing the duo.

“Anything that is about Marianne is about me,” corrected Robin, “And I wasn’t named after a bird.”

“Marital bliss calls for no dissent, so I recommend that you remove yourself before you wreck your future with me,” said Penelope, advancing a step.

“I don’t think you and I have a future. If you don’t like Marianne, I don’t like you,” said Robin, accepting his sword back from Marianne.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Penelope twirled toward her suitors. “Boys!” she purred coquettishly. “That upstart and his sister there are bent on depriving little ole me of all the money I have to my name. My father will give my hand in marriage and that bag of gold to the one who brings me their tongues. Good-bye, Robin,” she called over her shoulder with a bat of her eyelashes as she exited with the king in tow.

About the room, the recovering men were beginning to unsheathe their weapons. To Marianne’s right, a barbarian holding an ax threatened them. In the corner, she saw a troll checking its spiked club and grinning evilly, his metal jacket reflecting the sun’s light. “I’ll try to hold them off for as long as possible, Marianne. Make a dash for it,” whispered Robin valiantly. Marianne stayed where she was, thrusting her hand into her pocket. The dragonfly ball glowed warmly in her palm.

“Stand back, Robin,” she directed. She brought the ball out of her pocket and hurled it to the ground. It splintered, its fine glass flying out like rain drops vaporizing on a hot surface. At liberty, the dragonfly beat its wings at hummingbird speed. Leo began to zoom in wide circles, forcing the men to stoop as it sped around the room, gaining so much velocity that they lost sight of it. Leo was metamorphosing, his eyes expanding to the monstrous size of plates, his talons extending, his muscles flexing, his tail whipping. He landed with a fiery snort, in all his dragon majesty. The troll had the unfortunate luck to be standing, club still raised, in front of Leo. In the twitch of a muscle, the club fell, troll-less, to the floor with a clatter. With a burp, Leo expelled a metal jacket. “Excuse me, my lady,” said Leo, covering his mouth with a polite paw. All about the room the sounds of falling weapons and desperate footsteps were heard as the men disarmed themselves and jostled for the door.

Marianne ran to Leo. “Could you give the two of us a ride?” she asked with a curtsy.

“Always so gracious,” said the dragon, looking benevolently at Marianne.

“Actually, the three of us,” said Robin, wheeling the reward forward.

“I would be more than happy to give Marianne and the money a ride,” said the dragon, smiling.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, load it up, fly boy,” directed Robin, dumping the bag at the dragon’s paws.

“Please,” Marianne implored. Leo glowered at Robin before using his tail to fling the money sack onto his back and bowing down, allowing Marianne to scramble up his wings. As Robin tried to follow suit, Leo raised his wings and plodded toward a smashed window.

“Leo, we’re going to leave Robin!” cried Marianne, looking behind her and spying Robin vainly trying to snare Leo’s tail.

“I like to see him jump,” said Leo, thoughtlessly slamming his tail in front of Robin and tripping him.

“Leo, I really want you two to get along,” urged Marianne.

“All right,” sighed Leo, uncurling his tail so that Robin could grab it, “but have him hold on.”

“Robin,” called Marianne, “Leo says to hold onnnn!!” Marianne felt a blast of wind as they flew out the open window and over the sprawling countryside. Marianne’s hair was whipping around her, forcing her to grab it into a ponytail.

“Tell this windbag to turn right!” yelled Robin, crawling up the dragon.

“Robin requests that we take a right turn,” relayed Marianne.

“Only if I get to lose him permanently when we get there,” said Leo.

“Leo,” Marianne pleaded. The dragon banked right, forcing Marianne to cling tightly to his scales.

“Finally, he’s listening to me,” said Robin, who had managed to climb next to Marianne.

“What do you want to do?” asked Marianne.

“You’ll see,” replied Robin mysteriously, “Hey! Drop down some!” he called to the dragon. Leo grudgingly lowered his altitude. Robin studied the ground closely before bringing out his sword and launching it through the roof of the weapon shop. The sword created quite a crater in the thatched roof. “Circle around a bit!” instructed Robin. “I want to see his reaction!” Marianne could hear shouting when the shopkeeper ran angrily outside, shaking a fist until he spotted the culprits steering a dragon, at which point he shrank meekly back inside. Robin gave a spiteful laugh. “He might as well be yelling at a cloud,” ridiculed Robin as they ascended higher into the atmosphere. They’re nice things to have, dragons, thought Marianne as the gentle sun warmed her face in the mild morning air.