Authors: Cameron Dokey
Instead it was the land around me which seemed to have changed, though at first the alterations were so subtle I hardly noticed. But gradually it came to me that, everywhere I looked, the colors seemed brighter than I remembered. The crops and livestock, taller and fatter. The whitewash on the village cottages just a little more white. Prosperity and contentment had cast their mantles out across the land, gleaming satin cloaks of green and gold. Peace and happiness seemed to reign in every direction.
The stewards have done well, I thought.
And with this thought, I reached the palace and stopped. For I saw that the walls that had once kept it locked away from the world outside had been torn down, a thing I knew had long been a dream of Papa's. An elaborate wrought-iron gate marked the entrance to the palace grounds, but it stood wide open. A white rose and a red rose clambered up either side as if racing to embrace one another. Their scent circled around my head as I passed beneath them, heading for the kitchen garden.
It looked much as I remembered, save that it was more abundant, just as everything was. The paths between the rows of plants were broader, covered in nutshells that made cheerful cracking noises as I walked along. And beside each plant was a 96
marker, telling what its name was. As if someone had anticipated the curiosity of all the little girls who had come after me, of royal birth or not.
Beside a plant with leaves mottled green and purple, I knelt down. I had no need to read the marker to know what it was. Not only did I remember for myself, but it seemed to me that I could hear my cousin's voice, clear as the peal of a church bell in the back of my mind.
"That is sage, Aurore."
Sage, which even as a child I had known meant wise. You and your descendants have done well, Oswald, I thought.
For surely the prosperity I saw all around me was my cousin's handiwork, proof positive that he had taken our final conversation straight into his heart. No other combination of things could have produced the peace and bounty I saw around me, for those things required both wisdom and love. And patience, also.
This was the world my departure had created. A future both shining and glorious. This was the gift I had given my people by holding my love for them safe and strong within my heart.
Yet even as this thought came to me, I began to weep, for suddenly I perceived that this bright and shining future held no place in it for me. There was no one left whom I had known and loved. And as my tears fell unchecked into the fertile earth, it seemed to me that, at long last, I understood the unhappiness that had always seemed to dwell inside my cousin Oswald.
Had he not been surrounded by all that he desired, yet been undesired in return? Rising each day to live in a world in which he knew he had no place. And so, just as she had spoken her spell first, so it seemed to me that Cousin Jane would have the last word now. For though Chantal's spell might save my life, it would doom me to live in a world which owed its very existence to the fact that I hadn't been in it. Like Oswald, I would be surrounded by others, yet always alone.
"Aurore," I heard a voice say. "You're dreaming. Wake up."
There were hands upon my shoulders, shaking me. Then I felt myself pulled into a pair of arms. "Don't weep, Aurore. I'm here," the voice said.
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And at that, I woke up, and knew where I was. I was in la Foret, at the base of an apple tree, held tightly in Ironheart's arms.
“I wasn't weeping," I said. "I never cry."
"Well, at least I know you're awake now," said Ironheart.
I tried to sit up, but he pushed my head back down against his chest. "Stop fussing," he said. "I've had enough conflict for one day. Just he still, Aurore. Try relying on me for once. Think of it this way: I owe you for building five nights worth of fires."
Part of me was tempted to argue. I hated to seem weak, but he did have a point. Besides, the dream had left me shaking and Ironheart felt solid and warm.
“I’m sorry I was so disagreeable," I mumbled against his chest.
"I'm sorry you were too," said Ironheart. At this I tried to lift my head again, but he held it firmly in place with the back of one hand. "Shut up and go to sleep, Aurore. We can argue again in the morning, if you still want to."
And so I gave up and went to sleep in the shelter of his arms, my head pressed against the rhythm of his heart. All through the night, it seemed to me that it pounded out his name. One I was beginning to believe was his true one after all.
Ironheart. Ironheart. Ironheart.
When I awoke the next morning, I was alone. My head was resting on a great tree root instead of where I thought it would be, which was Ironheart's shoulder. I had a crick in my neck I was sure would remain for the rest of the day, a thing I certainly intended to mention in no uncertain terms.
Just as soon as I found him.
I stood up and stretched, then shouldered my knapsack and wrapped both cloaks around me. He’d left me his, which I had to admit was very considerate. The air was sharp, though the sky was clear even in the early morning. It was the kind of day Nurse always said reminded her of the one on which I had been born. A day like a beautiful wild animal with a glossy coat and a mouth full of teeth. The kind of day where anything could happen, so you'd better watch out.
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The sixth day since I'd come to the Forest.
I found Ironheart standing at the very edge of the apple orchard, staring straight ahead and frowning.
"Oh, good, you're awake. Come and tell me what you make of this," he said as I moved to stand beside him.
I studied it.
"Whatever it is, it's green," I said. "And yes, thank you, I did sleep well. Except for the crick in my neck that I'm sure is all your fault. Good morning."
At this, he gave me his full attention, turning to me with a smile and slinging one arm around my shoulders. "Good morning, Aurore. I can see that it's green. But what else is it? That's what I really want to know."
We stared ahead in silence for a moment. "Well," I said. "It's obviously a hedge of some sort."
It was taller than either of us and extended in both directions as far as my eyes could see. Even from where we stood, some distance away, I could see that its branches were filled with both buds and thorns. As we watched, the sun struck the section closest to us, causing it to suddenly burst into bloom. Blossom after blossom of a pink as pale as the first flush of light in the sky.
"Roses," Ironheart exclaimed suddenly. "It's a hedge made of roses." I could tell by the sound of his voice that he was relieved.
More than that, he was delighted. Roses and sleeping princesses were the sorts of things that almost always went together.
"It's in our way," I said, my own voice grumpy.
He chuckled. "How can it be in our way when we don't really know where we're going? Besides, I should think you'd be happy about something like this. You were the one who wanted a challenge."
I didn't have a particularly good answer for that remark, as he happened to be right, so I decided to ignore it. Instead, I took off his cloak and handed it to him.
"All right," I said. "Let's see if we can go around it."
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the sky and the rose hedge blooming as we moved along it.
There were white roses, then lavender, and then a gold that Ironheart said exactly matched the color of my hair. And finally a vivid red that reminded me of the fate that awaited me. The prick of a finger, followed by one bright drop of blood. As we walked along, we munched apples and the last of Ironheart's cheese, until the sight of the red roses made me lose my appetite.
"Do you suppose this was here last night?" Iron-heart mused as we halted about midday. With the sun directly overhead, the rose hedge was a riot of color. 'And we just couldn't see it because of the mist?"
I nodded. "It's too tall to have just sprung up overnight." I watched a branch move as if stretching in the sun, an action I swear made it taller."Though, considering where we are, I suppose anything is possible."
Ironheart cocked his head. "I don't think it's just a boundary,"
he said. “I think there's something inside it."
"You mean your princess," I said.
He shrugged as if what I'd said wasn't important, but I saw that his face had colored. "Why not? You just said it yourself: Considering where we are, anything is possible."
"Well, if there is something inside, there has to be a way in," I said. "I don't think we can just climb over it."
"I've been thinking the same thing," Ironheart nodded. He fell silent, studying the hedge. "I wonder when we'll find it."
"Probably when the Forest wants us to," I said. Or when we wanted it enough. "Come on. Let's keep going."
We found it about an hour later, though the opening was so small we almost walked right by it.
"Ouch," I heard Ironheart suddenly exclaim. He stopped walking abruptly. A long branch of roses whose blossoms were the same color orange as the sun when it set had become entangled in the hood of his cloak. "Help me, will you please, Aurore?"
I eyed the branch, specifically, its thorns. They were small, but I knew better than to assume that meant they weren't sharp.
I took off my pack, fished out my leather gloves and pulled them on. A moment later, Ironheart was free, the branch bobbing above his head as if laughing at some secret joke.
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"Thank you," Ironheart said, as he turned around. "I can't think why—" He stopped speaking as abruptly as he'd stopped walking, his eyes growing wide. I think I knew what it was before I even turned to follow his gaze.
Just below the branch that had snared his cloak there was a break in the hedge, so subtle that if I hadn't been staring straight at it, I would never have noticed. The hedge still continued as straight as ever, but one section was offset, as if it had taken a step backward. If you were careful and turned sideways, you'd be able to slip in between the two sections of hedge.
"What do you think?" asked Ironheart.
"I think it's what we've been waiting for," I said. Whether I was ready for it or not.
"I'll go first," said Ironheart.
He pulled his hood up over his head, gathered his cloak in close to his body, then stepped to the hedge, turned, and scooted sideways. A moment later, I heard his sharp intake of breath.
"Are you all right?" I called.
“I think you'd better come and see this," he said.
I followed his example. A moment later, I was standing by his side. In front of us was another series of hedges, moving off in different directions. Branching every which way like a series of corridors.
"It's a maze," I said.
"I knew it," Ironheart whispered, his eyes shining. “I knew there was more to that hedge than met the eye. We're almost there, Aurore. Can you feel it?"
Oh yes, I thought. I could feel my skin prickle, the way it did when danger approached. For, no matter how long it took to solve them, all mazes had one thing in common: They had a heart. And, in that moment, it seemed plain to me that the heart of the maze and the heart of the Forest were one and the same.
Now all we had to do was to find it.
As it turned out, it didn't take nearly as long as I thought it might, which is the way things sometimes go. The anticipation takes longer than the actual event. In this case, it was as if even 101
the Forest was in a hurry to get things over with, now that we'd gotten so close. Perhaps it feared that we would change our minds at the last moment. Decide to turn around and go back home instead of heading forward toward the goal.
Ironheart went first, insisting we go to the right as we had first thing that morning, his voice happy and excited when I asked him why. This wasn't a mysterious puzzle, like la Foret itself. This was a puzzle he knew how to solve.
"Because that's the way a maze works," he said, as we reached the first intersection. Without hesitation, he moved to the right once more. "Or at least, some of them. The ones constructed the way this one is. I can tell just by looking at it.
The royal gardener and I once made a series of studies."
We came to a second intersection and he turned right yet again, walking so close to the hedge he almost brushed it with his shoulder in spite of the ever present thorns. After that, the maze became more complex and he picked up the pace, weaving through a series of twists and turns so swiftly I practically had to jog to keep up.
"For heavens sake," I said. "Whatever’s waiting for us isn't going anywhere. Slow down."
"The hedge on our right is continuous," he called back over his shoulder, continuing his explanation of how he knew how to get where we were going."There are no breaks in it anywhere. All we have to do is follow it, always keeping it on our right, and it will lead us to the maze's heart. It's really incredibly simple, once you know the trick."
I suppose I don't have to tell you that this was the moment that disaster struck. Never say a thing is simple, even if you know it is. Because as soon as you do, things get complicated.