“There was no right time for what she did to us,” I said.
“To Gogu and me. It was unforgivable.”
“My great-aunt enjoys setting tests and playing tricks.
There’s a reason for every one of them. It pays to listen carefully to her words.”
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“Tell me about Anatolie.” I forced the words out, wanting the truth before we reached Dancing Glade.
Grigori bowed his head. “We lost him,” he said simply.
“Some cruelties are beyond the endurance of the most stalwart.
We will remember his laughter, his heroic strength, his nimble feet. No need to speak, Jena. I understand that this wounds you as it does every being in the Other Kingdom. Here we are,” he added as the little boat grazed the far shore. He laid the pole in the craft and stepped out, extending a hand to help me. “There is a right time, Jena. You simply need to be open to it. Anatolie would want you to be happy.”
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Chapter Thirteen
I knew I would not have the heart to dance, even though this could be our last visit to the Other Kingdom. The confirmation of Anatolie’s death weighed heavily on me. I could not escape the feeling that I could somehow have stopped Cezar if I had been just a little stronger, just a little braver. I was on edge, waiting until Ileana was ready to hold her audience so I could tell her what I needed to. Tati was in a worse state than I was.
There was no sign at all of Sorrow, or of the other Night People. My sister was circling the sward, speaking to one person after another. As she came past me, I heard her asking where he was, where they were, and everyone giving the same answer: Ask Ileana. But Ileana and Marin had not yet appeared. I wondered how I would get Tati home if she refused to come.
The young man who was Gogu had managed, somehow, to get across the Deadwash. He was not dancing, either. As I refused one invitation after another, I stole glances at him and 312
wondered why he had come here. If Tadeusz and the pale Anastasia had not put in an appearance, along with their somber retinue, why was this one creature from Dark of the Moon among us? And why did none of the patrons of Ileana’s glade seem afraid of him? When I tried to warn people, they simply laughed.
My younger sisters had not been able to resist the lure of the music; even Paula was out on the sward, dancing. My feet were itching to be out there in the midst of it. The lilt of the bone flute, the throb of the drum, the thrum of the harp, stirred my blood. My mind showed me, cruelly, the dream in which I circled and swayed in the arms of the green-eyed man and felt a happiness akin to nothing else in the world. I couldn’t do it. I was too full of sadness and guilt and fear.
Sten loomed by my side, huge and craggy. “One dance,” he said. “Come on.”
“I can’t. I’m waiting for Ileana.”
“The queen’s audience won’t be until later.”
“I’m worried about Tati. I need to keep an eye on her.”
“Come on, Jena,” the troll said. “I want to see you smile.”
“I shouldn’t—”
“Yes, you should. Come on! Iulia and Grigori are waving us over.”
“I—”
The troll seized my arm in a friendly grip. In a trice we were out in the double circle of merrymakers, facing Grigori and Iulia for a dance called Haymaking. The band struck up the tune, and I had no choice but to join in. It was a dance in which 313
the circles moved in opposite directions, so everyone changed partners after sixteen measures. In the Other Kingdom this was an interesting experience, since some dancers were only as tall as one’s knees, some had a tendency to use their wings to accentuate their moves, and some were so big that a girl my size had to crane her neck to make conversation. For a little, I half forgot my troubles in the constant effort to keep up and remain on my feet. The pace was frenetic.
I danced with Grigori and with the dwarf ferryman. I danced with the tiny Ildephonsus and with a mountain goblin who complimented me on my light feet. Then everyone moved on again, and the man standing opposite me was Gogu.
A chill ran through me. I whispered, “I can’t—” but there was no extricating myself from the circle of folk moving in intricate pattern to the quick beat. With a crooked smile, the green-eyed man took my hand in his and led me around in a figure-of-eight. His touch alarmed me: it felt every bit as tender, as thrilling, as it had the day he’d first become a man again and I’d had to leave him. It seemed to hold out the promise of a joy beyond measuring. He made no attempt to converse with me, simply looked. In his eyes I could see confusion and reproach and a forlorn sadness that made me want to draw him out of the circle, to sit down and sort things out sensibly once and for all, to get to the truth. . . . But I could not find any words.
The circle moved on, and he was gone.
A forest man in a garment of salamander skins took my hand and led me into the next maneuver. At the far side of the sward, I spotted Gogu again, moving out of the crowd to stand alone 314
under the trees. Somewhere in the throng there was a person without a partner.
When Haymaking drew to a close there was a fanfare, and the throng parted to allow Ileana her grand entry. She wore a cloak of peacock feathers and, under it, a gown that sparkled with silver. I wished she would go straight to her willow-wood throne, ready to receive folk with requests or praise or complaints. Instead, she went from one dance to the next, her tall headdress bobbing like a bright banner above the sea of revelers. I sat on the sidelines, watching Gogu, with a mass of conflicting feelings chasing one another around my heart. I had such a longing to get up and dance with him again that I had tears in my eyes.
“Trying to fill a lake with your tears?” A little voice spoke up right beside me, making me start. I looked down. There was Dr˘agu¸ta, in a long cloak of tattered green and a hat of leaves, under which her white hair shone like moonbeams. Around her neck she wore an ornament of tiny bones threaded on a cord.
“I got it wrong, didn’t I?” I said, wiping my nose. “I messed it up.”
The witch grinned. In the undergrowth not far away, a pure white snake raised its head to stare at me: I had no doubt that it was her creature in another form, for its eyes were just the same. “Mess and mend,” Dr˘agu¸ta said. “Lose and find.
Change and change again. The solution was right at your fingertips, and you never saw it, Jena. Now it’s moving farther away every day. Best wake up soon, or it’ll be beyond your reach.”
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“What solution? What do you mean?”
“Sometimes you have to let go. Sometimes you should hold on with all the strength you’ve got. And you have a lot of strength, Jena—too much for your own good, sometimes.” She clicked her fingers; the snake wriggled toward her, hissing.
She stooped and it flowed up her arm to settle around her shoulders like an exotic garment. Then she marched off into the forest without another word, and the shadows swallowed the two of them.
At that moment a horn sounded from down by Ileana’s little pavilion. At last it was time for the royal audience. As I made my way across the sward, I found that I had a companion. The green-eyed man was walking beside me, a discreet distance away, not saying a word.
“What do you want?” I snapped, fighting an urge to move closer.
He remained silent; the look he gave me was gravely assessing. We advanced side by side. Although he kept a decorous arm’s length away, my whole body felt his presence as if we were touching—as if we were walking arm in arm, like sweethearts. My face was hot; I knew I was blushing. I kept my eyes straight ahead. I had to keep my sisters safe. I could not afford to weaken.
Ileana was seated on her throne, the long train of her gown arranged artistically around her feet. Marin stood beside her, the lanterns turning his hair to brilliant gold. He needed no crown to show his royal status. Standing on tiptoe and craning my neck over a mass of shoulders, I caught a glimpse of Tati in her gossamer gown, white arms stretched out in supplication.