Part Sixteen

Blue looked from the woman to her sister and then to their hands. Confused by all the information, she took her hand back and held it to her chest. The woman laughed – the same laugh Blue remembered from before.

“B,” said Georgeanne, her hand still on the table.

“You remember her?” she asked, and her sister nodded. “How do you know her?”

“They’re not solid memories… like fencing with you or doing silly needlepoint with the other ladies.” Her head tilted as if trying to hear something – perhaps a distant memory. “I’ve seen her once or twice… when I was younger,” she said. “During some of your lessons, Nanny Deanna would occasionally take me to the kitchens for a snack. Deanna was fond of one of the cooks… Lionel. While she was off flirting with him, I would be left alone with Aggie.”

Did she feed you any boiled frog legs or raven eyeballs? wondered Blue thinking back on all the potions and such in Agathea’s room. The woman looked at Blue then – almost as if she could read her thoughts – and feeling strange, the princess turned her attention back to her sister and said, “I never saw her when I went to the kitchens. Marcella took me several times, but most of the time I went by myself.” Georgeanne shrugged, and they both turned to Agathea.

“It would draw too much attention for me to come to both of you,” explained the woman swallowing a bite of sandwich. “Devon and I split the two of you up. I watched over Georgie here,” she said patting the young woman’s hand, “while Devon watched over you.”

“But I don’t have any memories of him like Georgeanne has of you,” said Blue.

At that moment Devon leaned toward her in his chair and said, “Do you remember how you loved the gardens when you were young?”

Blue thought back to her childhood and recalled playing in the gardens with Georgeanne. Sometimes she’d sneak away from lessons or her ladies-in-waiting and run off to be by herself. She’d go to the gardens and look at the flowers in full bloom with their gorgeous colors and fragrances. Her favorite things in the garden however were the topiaries. Some of them were in the shape of animals like horses or sheep. Most of them were interesting shapes – artistic achievements made by the gardener.

Her eyes turned to the man to her left.

“You were the gardener,” she said, and he simply nodded. “I remember you. I ran away from Marcella who was trying to get me to practice the piano. I had run out to the garden and saw you working.” Her eyes squinting as she recalled details. “You were making a giant fish. I remember it looked like it was jumping right out of the water, it was so lifelike.” Coming back to the present, she realized something was off. “But how could that have been you? You looked then just as you are now?”

Georgeanne looked at Agathea then and stared at her face. Before her stood the woman from her childhood memories of snacks in the kitchen while her nanny tried to make a love connection, but compared to Devon she looked to have aged. Staring more intently at the woman’s face, she noticed a smudge on her cheek and without realizing it, reached out to wipe it off. As she did so, she smudge only got bigger. She tried a few more times, but it never went away. Georgeanne took her hand back and stared at her fingers, rubbing the creamy consistency between them. She looked back up at Agathea and said, “Makeup?” The woman said nothing. Georgeanne rose from the table, her kerchief in hand, and began wiping at the woman’s face. When she was done, her cloth soiled, no longer its brilliant white. The woman’s face, on the other hand… it looked like years had been erased away. “Aggie?”

Blue stared up at her sister who was just as surprised as she was seeing that the woman was not as old as she had claimed to be. She stood, moving to her left side and reached out to touch her hair. The woman now looked vastly younger than she had before though she still appeared older than Devon although Blue wasn’t sure by how much. “When I saw you,” she started to say.

The woman took her hand as it ran through her ragged hair. “It’s a glamour, my dear.”

“Pardon?” said Blue.

“You’re seeing what I want you to see.” The woman ran her fingers through her hair and all the grey disappeared leaving only beautiful soft brown waves.

“Then why the makeup?” asked Georgeanne.

“I was never good with features,” said Agathea. “Hair’s easy – just pick a color, and you’re done. The face – ahhh, that’s different. You have eyes, nose, mouth, teeth… then there’s the issue of the skin itself.”

“Don’t bore the girls, Aggie,” said Devon.

“No,” said Blue.

“This is fascinating,” added Georgeanne.

Devon smiled and waved his hand toward the woman who returned his smile with one of her own and a nod of her head.

“What else can you do?” asked Georgeanne.

“We can do all sorts of things?” she answered.

Blue’s face turned to confusion when she asked, “We who?”

“We us,” said Agathea waving her hand about the table. The girls stared at her for a moment, then looked at each other before turning their heads toward Devon. He merely smiled at them.

“Us?” asked Georgeanne repeating the same gesture Agathea had.

“Yes,” replied the woman.

“All of us?” asked Blue doing the same gesture as the other two.

“Yes,” Agathea repeated. “It runs in the family.” The princesses turned back toward the man, the only one of the four who had remained seated all this time.

“Family?” Georgeanne mumbled.

“Ladies,” said Agathea, “I would like you to meet Devon - my son and your uncle.”

Part Fifteen

The moment they left the gazebo, Blue was overcome with a strange feeling – like she knew what was coming. They followed Devon further into the garden, between topiaries and flowers. The path seemed random, but after several minutes they appeared at another gazebo.

“What?” said Blue, her arm around her sister. “I don’t understand. Did we just go in a circle?”

Devon turned around and faced the girls. “Of course not,” he said. “You should know better than that,” he said looking at Blue, and she was brought to her memories of finding Agathea’s room on accident and the door disappearing. She turned and looked behind her, and he said, “It’s all a matter of perspective.”

Looking back at him, she said, “But I don’t know how I found you the first time.”

“Well,” he smiled, “I hope this time you took notes.”

He waved them to the gazebo where they saw Agathea helping herself to a tray of food and drink. She looked at Devon – then the girls. Spying Georgeanne whose gaze was at nothing in particular before her, she said to him, “What’d you do to that one?”

“I didn’t do anything to her,” he answered. With her plate, she stepped closer to the girls. Blue still didn’t like her very much. The woman unsettled her, but she wasn’t going to leave Georgeanne alone to her… demeanor.

“Liar,” she said, staring at the girl. Then she turned and looked at him, her eyes narrowing to slits. “You told her something, didn’t you?” Devon said nothing. “Dammit boy! Their minds are fragile.”

“I bed your pardon!” declared Blue at the comment.

“Quiet you,” said Agathea. “Don’t act like you were all tea and roses when you stumbled into my room. And that was just by accident.” Blue said nothing. “A-ha!” said the woman waving a sandwich in the air before taking a bite.

“Must you always act like this?” asked Devon.

“Like what?” the woman asked, her mouth full of food. She didn’t bother waiting for an answer since something else had caught her attention. Her nose crinkled and she sniffed the air until her attention was brought back to Georgeanne and the journal she was clutching in her hands. “My word,” she said. “Is that-?”

“Yes,” answered Devon.

The awe and amazement stayed on her face for a moment longer before her face contorted back to its usual self and she grumbled, “How’d she get it?”

“We found it,” declared Blue.

When Agathea turned her attention to her, she slowly added, “Actually, Georgeanne found it.”

The woman stepped closer to the catatonic princess which worried Blue. Then the woman stopped and looked at the princess. She stood there just looking at her as if she were going to awake from a dream and was trying to remember every detail. Finally she said in the sweetest tone Blue had ever heard her use, “Georgie?”

To follow her eyes, the princess appeared to be staring at the woman’s apron. After a couple of minutes, Georgeanne’s eyes blinked and widened slightly as if seeing what was before her for the first time. Her gaze rose up until she met the woman’s eyes. It took a moment for the princess to find her voice, but her lips finally parted, and she said, her voice low, “Aggie?” The woman smiled. Blue’s eyes became as big as saucers. Agathea handed off her plate to Blue who took it blindly as the woman took Georgeanne’s hands and led her to the gazebo. Blue stood there alone, her mouth open, her mind reeling.

“They know each other,” said Devon stepping beside her.

“I gathered that,” she replied, “but how?”

“That’s not my story to tell,” he said, and she felt like throwing the plate of food at him.

“Oh,” she said, “and I suppose she’ll just tell me the story.”

“Maybe if you ask nicely dear,” said the woman. She and Georgeanne sat at table in the gazebo. Devon placed a hand on the small of Blue’s back and guided her forward. Once under the cover of the gazebo, they all sat at the table – the sisters opposite each other with Devon and Agathea taking the remaining seats. “Thanks poppet,” said Agathea taking her plate back. Ignoring the woman for a moment, she looked at her sister who was looking up at the woman as if trying to solve a riddle.

“Who is this woman, G?” she asked.

“This woman,” said Georgeanne. “She’s... she’s…”

“G?” asked Blue reaching across the table for her sister’s hand. The woman placed her hand on top of both of the princess’s hands causing Blue to look up at the woman.

“I knew your mother,” said Agathea.

“How?” asked Blue.

“Why,” answered the woman as if the answer were obvious, “I raised her dear.”

Blue looked at Georgeanne who said nothing and then back at the woman saying, “You were her nanny?”

“Dear, no,” said the woman. “I was her mother.”

“Mother?” said Blue coughing the word out. “But that would make you…” Words failed her. She couldn’t help but remember the first she’d met the lady - her odd behavior, her attitude, her rudeness.

“I’m your Grandmother, dear,” said Agathea patting the girls’ hands.

Part Fourteen

“My mother?” said Blue. Their last conversation quickly replayed in her mind. “She’s really not dead?”

“No,” said Devon approaching the girls. “Your mother isn’t dead.” He looked at Blue and then to her sister. Georgeanne didn’t like how he was looking at her. “Do I make you uncomfortable Princess de Burgundy?”

“Perhaps,” she said.

“And why is that?” he asked innocently.

“My sister told me of your encounter. You told her that her mother is not dead.” He nodded. “Then where has she been all this time?”

“Hidden,” he replied. “It seems though that those that hid her hid her a little too well.” Before anyone had a chance to say anything, he said, “But I assure you… you’re mother is safe. We will find her soon.”

Georgeanne’s discomfort disappeared and was replaced by something else – a mixture of curiosity and confusion. “You mean my sister’s mother,” she said. “My mother is alive and well in the castle.”

“I assure you milady that she is not.”

She stood there unsure of what to say next. Blue moved closer to her sister and placing a hand on her shoulder said, “My father remarried her mother after my mother died.”

Devon’s face did not change from its serious countenance when he looked at both of the princesses and said, “My dear ladies, I do not doubt that the Queen of Burgundy married the King, but I do tell you a truth when I say that she is not the woman who gave you life.”

Blue looked at her sister, eyeing her profile as she stared at the man. She then stepped forward, leaving the comfort of her sister’s touch and stood a few feet from the man from their dreams. For a moment they stood there in silence just looking at each other. Blue remained by the railing of the gazebo. At last, Georgeanne spoke. “Swear it,” she said to Devon, her tone low and serious. “Swear that what you say is the truth. If you are lying, so help me-.”

“I am not lying, milady.”

“Swear it, then,” she demanded.

Devon stepped closer, took her hands in his and looking her straight in the eyes said, “Milady, I swear on my life and everything that I am that I am telling you the truth.” She stared up into his eyes and could tell his honesty was not false. The next moment she concentrated on breathing but her heartbeat started to race out of control. Then her eyes started to water, and she lost sight of Devon altogether before falling to her knees on the grass just before his feet, her hands slipping from his and she descended.

“Georgeanne!” said Blue and ran to her side. Her sister’s head hung low, her hands lay limp in her lap. Blue wrapped her arms around her sister, but Georgeanne didn’t move.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “I don’t understand at all.” She shook her head at her hands. “Why would they do such a thing? Why would they lie? About my mother?” She looked up at Blue then and said, “About our mother?”

Devon knelt before them and with his handkerchief dabbed at the princess’s face. “There is more going on than either of you are aware of.”

“That much we gathered,” said Blue, a little sarcasm slipping into her tone.

“It’s not safe to talk here,” he said. “We’ve said too much already.” He placed his hands over Georgeanne’s and asked, “Are you okay to walk?” She raised her a little but still didn’t look at anyone and nodded. He squeezed her hands a little then stood. “Good. Let’s go.”

“Where?” asked Blue.

“Someplace safe,” he said. “Safer than here.” He started to walk off, stopped and turned back to the girls. Blue was helping Georgeanne rise to her feet. Once they were both standing, he said, “And don’t forget the journal.”

Part Thirteen

Blue stared at her sister as her sister stared at the book, her fingers tracing over the page in a dazed sort of state. “G?” she asked, but her sister wasn’t listening.

“It’s not Latin,” Georgeanne said in something of a sleepwalking-state, aware of no one else save her and the pages. “Although some of the words would make you think that.” She dragged her fingers across one line again and again as if the translation was on the tip of her tongue.

“We could always take the journal with us,” suggested Blue feeling a little uncomfortable each second they remained in the room. She was worried with the way her sister could not take her eyes off the journal. Finally she grabbed the book, slid it from her sister’s fingers and shut it. Blinking, Georgeanne looked up at Blue.

“B?” she said, her eyes confused.

Placing a hand to her sister’s cheek, she smiled then took her hand and said, “Let’s go.” They went to the door and left the abandoned room behind them.

Feeling confined inside the castle, she dragged her sister out to the back lawn to the grand gazebo. Once beneath its shade, she let go of her hand and twirled around, breathing in the air of the sunny day. When she stopped, she saw Georgeanne seated at one of the benches, her face troubled.

“G?” she said, worried.

“Those words,” she said. “Those words were written in my hand.” Blue said nothing. “How could that be? The book is tattered and ripped. It must be older than we are.” She looked up at her sister then and asked, “How can I have written in a book that is older than we are?”

Blue looked at her sister lovingly and said, “I do not know.”

They stayed in silence for a moment before Georgeanne said, “Looks like you’re not the only having weird days.”

“Would you care to trade?” said Blue trying her best at a half-smile.

Georgeanne smiled weakly. “Oh I’m afraid it’s not that easy, dear sister.” She stood and walked across the gazebo staring back at the castle.

“What do you mean?” asked Blue.

“Do you really think the oddity of your special day and the book you hold with my script in it is all that there is?” Blue said nothing. “One strange dream I could understand. We’ve all had strange dreams. But one so specific and precise? And even in dream - how could so long happen in such a small span of time? And then we find that… thing,” she said with a wave of her hand. Blue looked down at the journal in her hands. “No, my sweet sister - something is afoot, and whatever it is, it means to entangle us within its grasp.”

“You make it sound so horrible,” said Blue hugging the journal to her.

Georgeanne turned around and said apologetically, “I don’t mean to.” She turned away from her sister then and added quietly, “It’s only a feeling.”

“I trust your feelings,” said Blue. “You’re usually right about these sorts of things.”

“These sorts of things?” questioned Georgeanne.

“You know what I mean,” Blue corrected. “You have some kind of intuition that I lack.”

“You don’t lack it,” her sister said. “You just don’t acknowledge it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your impulsiveness? That’s your gut – your instinct – telling you to do things.”

“So you’re saying doing what I want is intuitive?”

“I’m saying you’re more than what you think you are.”

Blue looked at her sister then, her hair sparkling in the sun like the seeds of a pomegranate. “So are you,” she said.

She smiled at that idea, but then her face changed to worry, and she asked Blue, “What’s happening to us?”

Blue glanced down at the journal in her hands, her thoughts turning back to her earlier dream. “I’m not sure.” Looking up at her sister, she asked, “Are you scared?”

Georgeanne looked away briefly, thinking on the question, her fingers twisted in each other. When she turned back to her sister, she said plainly and honestly, “A little.” She pulled her hands apart forcing them at her sides. “You?”

“A little,” Blue admitted.

“Don’t be scared,” said a new voice – new to Georgeanne but not new to Blue. The girls spun around quickly toward the direction it had come from.

“You,” said Blue staring at the man from what she thought was a dream.

“What are you doing here?” asked Georgeanne stepping closer. Blue looked over at her sister who now stood beside her several feet away.

“You know this man?” she asked.

Still staring at the man, her sister answered, “Yes.”

“But how?” Blue asked. “This is the man from my dream.”

Georgeanne’s head turned toward her sister quickly as she said, “Him? But that’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“I dreamed of him last night.”

The girls turned back to the man before them who just stood there – waiting. “What do you want from us?” asked Blue.

“Only to help you,” he replied.

“Devon?” ventured Georgeanne, and he nodded. “You want to help us with what exactly?”

“Well,” said Devon matter-of-factly, “how about finding your mother for starters.”

Part Twelve

Composing herself after a long screaming session into her pillow – she had asked Marcella to fetch her some tea for the screaming left her throat in such a state – she freshened up and let her ladies dress her. Her gown was a lovely shade of pale violet, her hair pulled back with silver hair combs and left to cascade down her neck and back. After she was situated, her ladies left her alone again - per her wishes - and with the door closed, she paced her room frantically trying to figure things out.

Was it a dream? It certainly didn’t feel like one. How could so much happen in just an hour? It was impossible.

From the corner of her room in a tall lengthy case she picked up one of her many fencing foils and swung it through the air, the thin rod of solid metal making whooshing noises with each stroke. As she paced, she fenced with an imaginary foe as she tried to reason through the insanity. Running her foe through the heart, Marcella knocked on the door. Blue continued to pary and thrust while acknowledging the knock and admitting entry. The nanny walked in to announce her half-sister and fellow princess Georgeanne de Burgundy. Blue simply nodded and in walked her sister dressed in a deep burgundy-colored gown. Her hair was pulled back partially with an ornate black comb, letting her dark auburn curls swirl down her back and away from her face. Marcella left the room to fetch food and refreshments. When alone the girls spoke frankly.

“Ah,” said Georgeanne, “thinking, I see.” Standing near the bed, she picked up one of her sister’s many stuffed animals, most of them frogs of some sort or another. The one she picked up was bright green and sat politely on its rear while beaming a rather devious smile at her. “And what is it this time that you’re trying to figure out?”

“To talk is to fence,” said Blue, whipping her foil about.

“Must I?” said Georgeanne. “Marcella should be back any minute with snacks, and I’m feeling a little peckish.” Blue swung her foil as if she were taking someone’s head off but said nothing. “Dammit, B!” Dropping the frog back on the bed, she went to the corner, retrieved a foil of her own, and held it handle to tip, bending the metal slightly. She whipped it around a bit and then stood opposite her sister. They brought their foils to their faces and proceeded to en garde. “It’s too early to fence,” said Georgeanne, disinterest in her voice.

“It’s never too early to fence,” replied Blue.

“I prefer to at least have some breakfast in me first,” she said as their foils collided with one another’s.

“It’s not my fault you haven’t eaten,” said Blue.

“I wasn’t hungry earlier,” Georgeanne answered.

“And what are you griping about anyway,” said Blue. “You prefer a ripe ol’ round of fisticuffs.”

The princess grinned. “Ah yes,” she said. “Now that’s a sport.”

“Fencing’s a sport,” Blue retorted.

“Yes,” said Georgeanne, “but why run someone through with a sword when you can beat them to a bloody pulp with your bare hands?”

“I see your point,” conceded Blue. “I do enjoy a good jib-jab every now and then, but still - fencing always helps me think.”

“And today’s thoughts are of…?” asked Georgeanne.

Marcella knocked and then rolled in a tray of food for both the ladies. They took their meal out onto the balcony. After everything was set up, Marcella curtsied and left the room, and the girls continued their chat.

“It seems that I had the most interesting dream moments ago,” said Blue.

“A dream,” said her sister. “I don’t see the problem.”

Georgeanne had placed a piece of cheese on a sliced bit of apple and taken a bite when her sister said, “The problem is I’m not sure it was actually a dream.”

She chewed slowly taking in the words, trying to process their meaning. Finally, swallowing the well masticated food, she said, knowing what the answer to her question would be, “If not a dream, then what?”

“That’s just it,” Blue replied. “I don’t know.”

“Well,” said Georgeanne chomping more cheese and apple, “tell me of this dream, and we shall make sense of it together.” If there was anyone that Blue could share her craziness with, it was Georgeanne. They both shared a life of rebellion, of doing things princesses - by society standards - should not do. They fenced, sparred, refused to ride side-saddle and various other things that drove their elders completely nuts. They joked that the girliest thing they did was have tea and wear dresses (though with some of the elaborate fare they had to wear, they often daydreamed of wearing more comfortable clothes). After Georgeanne was caught up, she munched on some grapes and leaned back in her chair. “Goodness me,” she said smiling, “you had a busy nap.”

“How could I live so much in so little a time? And in a dream?”

“Sounds to me that we need to do some investigating,” said her sister.

“How do you mean?”

“We shall retrace your steps,” declared Georgeanne. “We will see if it was actually a dream or not.”

Blue smacked her hand on the table in a triumphant fashion. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Doesn’t matter,” her sister answered. “That’s why you have me. I remember the things you’ forget.” Finding comfort in the truth of her words, they left Blue’s quarters and found themselves walking the halls in search of any sign that the dream was real. Blue had blindly darted down hallways and stairs trying to hide from her elders so it was difficult to retrace any of the steps she had taken due to the randomness of her journey.

Lost in idle chit chat, Georgeanne tried to help Blue remember as well as soothe her upset feelings at not being able to. She told her sister that she was trying too hard, that she had to relax and perhaps everything would come back to her then. As they talked, they stopped paying attention to where they were going and found themselves along a corridor that neither of them saw as familiar. Random images of her “dream” came back to her, and she approached a door cautiously. She turned the knob and opened it, half expecting the old woman’s lab, but instead found a forgotten room filled with cobwebs, dust, and empty shelves.

“It was here,” Blue muttered to herself. “I’m almost sure it was here.”

“What’s this?” said Georgeanne, and Blue heard her flipping through pages. Standing behind her, she spied odd handwriting on the pages of an old leather journal that her sister had found resting on a table near a window. The edges of the pages were tattered and a little worn. The penmanship was obviously feminine, but no one’s the girl’s could recognize. Within the journal were pages of notes and sketches of things that at first glance the girls had no idea what they were. Some of the pages were torn – others completely ripped out. Then the Princess de Burgundy sucked in a sudden breath of surprise.

“What?” asked Blue. “What’s wrong? What did you find?”

The open page showed script that was different than what the ladies had seen before. Staring at it like she had seen a ghost, Georgeanne read over the words, but they didn’t make sense. “I don’t understand,” she said running her fingers over the long ago dried ink.

“What is it? What don’t you understand?” But inspecting the writing more closely, Blue didn’t have to wait for an answer. She could already tell.

The handwriting was her sister’s.