Straw Spun

by Leah Cypess

‭Alina unfolded the letter slowly and with great care:‭ ‬it was very old,‭ ‬and‭ ‬felt thin and fragile under her steady fingertips.‭ ‬Her heart was pounding in a way unfamiliar to her,‭ ‬and not just because of the whispers she had heard on the way to the throne room:‭ ‬gold to straw from two passing courtiers,‭ ‬the end of‭ ‬the peace from a duke to a lady,‭ ‬Rumpelstiltskin‭ – ‬she hadn’t turned fast enough to see who’d said that.

She had come to the‭ ‬sitting room to ask her father about the whispers,‭ ‬but‭ ‬before she could say a word,‭ ‬he had handed her the letter.‭ ‬She smoothed out the last fold and‭ ‬focused on the ornate,‭ ‬flowing script‭ ‬so similar to her own.

The king was watching her.‭ ‬She‭ ‬composed her face and read.

I have four days until your third birthday,‭ ‬and it isn’t enough time.‭ ‬They say if you discover a goblin’s true name,‭ ‬it gives you power over him.‭ ‬For the past month I have been living in the library,‭ ‬searching through the forbidden books,‭ ‬trying to figure out which one he is and if anyone knows his name.‭ ‬It is a fruitless,‭ ‬endless task.‭ ‬I will not lie:‭ ‬it is also boring.‭ ‬Even the fear of death doesn’t change that.

Four days.‭ ‬I have an entire bookshelf left.‭ ‬Even if his name is there,‭ ‬which I doubt.

What will he do with you‭?

You need to understand:‭ ‬when I signed you away to him,‭ ‬you were nothing.‭ ‬Not a sigh in the wind,‭ ‬not a speck on the fabric of the world.‭ ‬You were nothing,‭ ‬not even a possibility of something,‭ ‬for though I had spoken to your father once or twice,‭ ‬I had never even touched his hand.‭

Yet you were real enough,‭ ‬to him,‭ ‬to be worth my life.‭ ‬My life and a roomful of gold.‭ ‬How could something that didn’t even exist be worth that much‭?

If I hadn’t done it,‭ ‬you would never have existed at all.‭ ‬So I told myself.‭ ‬I was buying not just my own life,‭ ‬but yours:‭ ‬three years of life for you.‭ ‬Children are happy creatures,‭ ‬and I swore you would be the happiest of them all,‭ ‬you-who-were-nothing.‭ ‬Three years of joy.‭ ‬Who wouldn’t trade for that‭?

It seemed so easy,‭ ‬so simple,‭ ‬when you were not real

It was lack of experience,‭ ‬you see,‭ ‬that brought me to this.‭ ‬I didn’t know that parents love their children.‭ ‬Mine didn’t

The king doesn’t like what I am doing.‭ ‬Nobody does.‭ ‬Whispers rise around me,‭ ‬suspicious and fearful.‭ ‬Does that make me seem like a better mother,‭ ‬that I am willing to risk my life for yours‭? ‬Even if it’s too late‭? ‬How could I know,‭ ‬back then,‭ ‬what I was willing to do for a life that didn’t exist‭?

Ah,‭ ‬but I lie.‭ ‬I always knew the whispers would come.‭ ‬That at first I would be their marvel,‭ ‬the girl who spun straw into gold,‭ ‬the commoner who married a king.‭ ‬For as long as the harvests were good and the borders at peace.‭ ‬But that when times turned bad,‭ ‬they would speak of witchcraft,‭ ‬and unholy bargains,‭ ‬and the devil

Times are still good.‭ ‬But my days were always numbered.‭ ‬As yours were

No,‭ ‬it’s no good drawing similarities between us.‭ ‬No good rambling on when I should be straining my eyes at yet another book.‭ ‬Cursed sorcerers and their cursedly small writing

I just wanted to tell you‭… ‬somehow‭… ‬that I failed.‭ ‬I love you after all,‭ ‬despite‭ ‬all I did to avoid it.‭ ‬Your wide dark eyes when you were drawn from my body,‭ ‬your tiny red fists and feet.‭ ‬When I realized,‭ ‬suddenly,‭ ‬that you were‭ ‬something.‭ ‬The most important thing in the world.‭ ‬And that I had realized it too late

I know it is inadequate‭ – ‬even silly.‭ ‬But I am writing this letter to say that‭ ‬I love you.‭ ‬And that‭ ‬I’m sorry.

Alina‭ ‬refolded the letter‭ ‬slowly,‭ ‬until it was so small she could hide it in her palm.‭ ‬She looked at her father.

“‬Why,‭” ‬she said,‭ “‬did you show me this‭?”

The king folded his hands together.‭ ‬They were old,‭ ‬crooked hands‭; ‬the days when they had wielded a sword were long over.‭ ‬The ruby signet ring‭ ‬seemed too heavy for his fingers.

“‬Because,‭” ‬he said,‭ “‬we were wrong about what happened.‭ ‬Your mother‭ ‬never found his name.‭”

“Then why am I alive‭?” ‬Alina asked.

‬She asked it calmly and precisely,‭ ‬the same way she asked about the progress of the negotiations with Aimar,‭ ‬and saw‭ ‬a flicker of approval in her father’s eyes.‭ ‬The king was a very calm,‭ ‬measured person.‭ ‬He found excessive emotion distasteful,‭ ‬and his definition of‭ “‬excessive‭” ‬was stricter than that of most people.

“‬I don’t know,‭” ‬he said.‭ “‬But I suspect,‭ ‬now,‭ ‬that your mother managed a trade.‭”

Alina rose from her seat and walked to the back of the sitting room.‭ ‬The portrait of her mother hung between two tall windows,‭ ‬overshadowed by their heavy sills,‭ ‬nearly invisible when the sun shone through.‭ ‬There was no good reason to display it more prominently,‭ ‬for there was nothing remarkable about it.‭ ‬Alina’s mother had not been particularly beautiful,‭ ‬or regal,‭ ‬or striking.‭ ‬She looked like what she was,‭ ‬a village girl‭ ‬wrapped in yellow silk.

Until a few moments ago,‭ ‬Alina had never been told there might be anything about her to admire.

She didn’t know why that made her angry,‭ ‬but it did‭; ‬and she knew she had better not let her father see that anger.‭ ‬So she kept her eyes on the painting,‭ ‬and her back to‭ ‬the king,‭ ‬while she spoke. ‬

“What would a goblin take for a life‭?” ‬she asked‭ – ‬but as soon as she asked,‭ ‬she knew.‭ ‬Suddenly she was afraid as well as angry.‭ ‬She took several deep,‭ ‬steady breaths,‭ ‬trying to hold her shoulders still,‭ ‬so her father wouldn’t guess.

“‬I don’t know,‭” ‬her father lied to her.‭ “‬The sorcerers have been working on figuring it out ever since it‭… ‬happened.‭ ‬We know a bit about the goblin who is commonly known as Rumpelstiltskin‭ – ‬not his true name,‭ ‬of course,‭ ‬but it’s what the commonfolk call him.‭ ‬He has‭ ‬appeared sporadically in the Western Woods for several centuries.‭ ‬He is evil,‭ ‬and loves to cause trouble for humankind.‭ ‬But there are no stories of his making bargains with any of us,‭ ‬before‭…‬.‭”

His voice trailed off.‭ ‬Alina thought of the story she had been told:‭ ‬how her mother had discovered the goblin’s true name,‭ ‬how in his rage he had pulled the ceiling down upon their heads and killed them both.‭ ‬Her father would not want to repeat the story now.‭ ‬Not when he was about to tell her the truth.

She could save him the trouble.‭ ‬But first she must compose herself.‭ ‬She concentrated on what she was:‭ ‬Princess of Ciern.‭ ‬Sole heiress to the kingdom.‭ ‬Valued adviser to her father the king.

“‬It will cause great difficulty with Aimar,‭” ‬she said evenly,‭ “‬if I am no longer available to marry their‭ ‬prince.‭ ‬That is the crux of the negotiations.‭”

No reply.‭ ‬She turned around and saw her father staring at her with wide,‭ ‬startled eyes.

“‬It will mean war,‭” ‬she said.‭ “‬That is the most important thing,‭ ‬isn’t it‭?” ‬And as she said it,‭ ‬she truly believed it.‭ ‬Her responsibility to her people settled around her like a comfortable,‭ ‬heavy cloak.

“‬Yes,‭” ‬her father said finally.‭ “‬But‭ – ”

Alina smiled.‭ ‬She enjoyed showing off how smart she was‭; ‬people rarely expected it,‭ ‬when they saw her porcelain features and golden hair.‭ ‬It was especially fun when she managed to surprise her father,‭ ‬who should have known better.

“‬It’s rather obvious,‭” ‬she said.‭ ‬The folded paper in her palm had grown damp.‭ “‬What would a goblin take in exchange for a life,‭ ‬except another life‭? ‬My mother gave him hers.‭”

“We know little about the fae,‭” ‬her father said warningly.

“‬I’m not faulting your‭ ‬sorcerers,‭ ‬Your Majesty.‭ ‬They must have suspected it.‭ ‬But now they know.‭” ‬Her voice didn’t even threaten to quaver.‭ ‬She was proud of that.‭ “‬My mother was fifteen when she bore me.‭ ‬Eighteen when she‭… ‬disappeared.‭” ‬She lifted her eyebrows.‭ “‬I am eighteen now.‭”

Her father leaned back,‭ ‬looking thoroughly impressed.‭ ‬Somehow it wasn’t as satisfying as it usually was.

“‬Eighteen years for eighteen years.‭ ‬That must have been the bargain.‭” ‬She glanced once at her mother’s portrait before meeting her father’s eyes again.‭ “‬And you know it now,‭ ‬because Rumpelstiltskin is back.‭ ‬The bargain is over,‭ ‬and he’s come back for me.‭”

‭It was not as simple as that,‭ ‬of course.‭ ‬It never was,‭ ‬with the fae.

What had happened was that gold was turning back into straw.

There were‭ ‬fifty bales of gold thread in the king’s storeroom,‭ ‬left over from Alina’s mother’s bargain.‭ ‬Or rather,‭ ‬there had been.‭ ‬Until that morning,‭ ‬when the seneschal did his daily check and found instead a‭ ‬roomful of‭ ‬old,‭ ‬moldering straw.

The sorcerers were universally agreed:‭ ‬it was a sign of Rumpelstiltskin’s return.

The advisers were universally agreed:‭ ‬it was an unmitigated disaster.

“‬The sorcerers might be correct,‭” ‬Alina told her maid,‭ ‬Rose,‭ ‬while her hair was being brushed for bed.‭ “‬The advisers certainly are.‭”

Rose made a sound of assent,‭ ‬the brush never ceasing its steady strokes.‭ ‬Alina caught a glimpse of the maid’s expression in the mirror.‭ ‬Rose had a broad,‭ ‬pleasant face that usually bore a slightly puzzled expression.‭ ‬Though far less intelligent than Alina,‭ ‬she was the closest thing the princess had to a friend.

She also reported everything Alina said to the king.‭ ‬Alina didn’t mind that.‭ ‬She had no secrets from her father.

“‬The real question,‭” ‬Alina went on,‭ “‬is what has happened to the gold we’ve already traded.‭ ‬But of course we don’t dare‭ ‬ask.‭ ‬If our neighbors think we tricked them on purpose,‭ ‬then‭ ‬Aimar,‭ ‬Mosun,‭ ‬and‭ ‬Palis could all invade at once.‭”

“The king’s cape is still gold,‭” ‬Rose offered,‭ ‬as she worked out a tangle.

Alina refrained from wincing as‭ ‬her hair‭ ‬twisted sharply against her scalp.‭ ‬Rose did not have a gentle hand with a brush.‭ ‬It was a small pain Alina chose to bear,‭ ‬for the sake of her‭ ‬only‭ ‬friendship.‭ ‬And,‭ ‬she often thought,‭ ‬as an exercise in self-discipline.‭ ‬A princess could not afford to let her feelings show on her face,‭ ‬even‭ – ‬especially‭ – ‬when those feelings were pain.

“‬Yes,‭” ‬she agreed.‭ “‬Thread that has already been woven seems to have remained gold.‭”

For now.‭ ‬She could only hope the goblin would tell them what he wanted before the king’s cape disintegrated and covered him in straw.

Rose put the brush down at last,‭ ‬and Alina got to her feet and went to her window.‭ ‬Below her sprawled the city,‭ ‬lights and gray silhouettes in the‭ ‬night.‭ ‬All those thousands of people‭ – ‬and thousands more,‭ ‬beyond the city‭ – ‬getting their hair brushed,‭ ‬or‭ ‬brushing it on their own,‭ ‬getting ready for bed.‭ ‬Intact families,‭ ‬with no men gone for war,‭ ‬no women weeping over the deaths of soldiers.

For now.

Alina had never questioned why her father married her mother for the sake of bales of gold.‭ ‬Ciern was not a rich country.‭ ‬The gold‭ – ‬and her father’s wisdom in using it‭ –‬ had helped protect these people for almost two decades.‭ ‬The king would not have been what a king should be,‭ ‬if he had spurned his responsibility to those thousands and thousands of people because he did not love a woman.

Alina knew very few of the thousands of people in the city below her.‭ ‬She did not love any of them.‭ ‬But she did not‭ ‬want them to suffer because she had failed them.

She sighed,‭ ‬turned away from the window,‭ ‬and allowed Rose to change her for bed.

‭That night,‭ ‬the empty room that had once been used for spinning was suddenly no longer empty.‭ ‬The sentry Alina had posted there came to let her know,‭ ‬and Rose shook the princess awake from a dream in which gnarled green hands pulled her down into the earth.

Alina dressed simply and swiftly,‭ ‬in a long white gown,‭ ‬and hurried through the hallway with Rose’s disapproving stare burning into her back.

The west wing of the castle was dark,‭ ‬bare,‭ ‬and deserted.‭ ‬There had been a fire here‭ – ‬years after Alina’s mother had died‭ – ‬and though it hadn’t damaged the thick stone walls,‭ ‬a faint,‭ ‬ashy smell still drifted through‭ ‬the corridors,‭ ‬between the singed and crumbling tapestries and the blackened remains of carved wooden furniture.‭ ‬Alina had a torch,‭ ‬but its light was only enough to let her see her way,‭ ‬not to show her what was hiding in the shadows.

She knew there were things hiding in the shadows.‭ ‬She could hear them,‭ ‬brushes of wind where there should be no wind,‭ ‬half-heard sounds that could have been the scraping of branches or the hiss of the wind.‭ ‬They were the sorts of sounds that a person would think‭ – ‬would tell herself‭ – ‬she was imagining.‭ ‬But Alina had never been one for imagining.

When she reached the room where her mother had once spun straw into gold,‭ ‬she pushed it open without allowing herself to hesitate.‭ ‬She didn’t even acknowledge to herself that she wanted to hesitate.

The torch went out as soon as she stepped into the room.‭ ‬All at once it was dark,‭ ‬so dark that when she briefly closed her eyes,‭ ‬it made no difference.

Alina knelt and put the torch down on the floor.‭ ‬She settled it carefully‭ ‬on its side,‭ ‬then straightened and said,‭ “‬I am not afraid of the dark.‭”

A moment of silence‭ – ‬she fancied it was startled.‭ ‬Then a voice said,‭ “‬Perhaps it is I who am afraid of the light.‭”

It was a female voice.

Alina stumbled forward,‭ ‬one step,‭ ‬then stopped.‭ ‬She whispered,‭ “‬Mother‭?”

“Come no closer,‭” ‬the voice said.‭ “‬If you see me,‭ ‬it will break what little protection I have.‭”

Alina’s fingers dug into the thin silk of her gown.‭ “‬Protection from whom‭?”

“From‭ ‬him.‭ ‬Do you have to ask‭? ‬Do you not know my story‭?”

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness,‭ ‬Alina could make out a hint of movement at the far end of the‭ ‬room.‭ ‬She was seized by a sudden,‭ ‬shocking hunger:‭ ‬a desire to see the woman hidden in the shadows,‭ ‬to look her in the eye.‭ ‬To see if she resembled her.‭ ‬Alina looked nothing like her father,‭ ‬but maybe‭…

She had never wanted anything so badly in her life.‭ ‬And at the same time,‭ ‬it was something she had wanted her entire life without ever really knowing it.‭ ‬She tried to get a grip on the sudden turmoil inside her,‭ ‬and‭ ‬she‭ ‬succeeded.‭ ‬Mostly.

“‬I‭ ‬read your letter,‭” ‬she said.‭ ‬Her voice came out clear‭ ‬and‭ ‬smooth.

“‬Ah,‭” ‬the woman said.‭ ‬A short sound,‭ ‬not much more than a breath,‭ ‬but Alina heard the surprise in it.

There was silence for a moment.‭ ‬Then her mother said,‭ “‬So you know that I love you.‭ ‬Come to me,‭ ‬my daughter.‭ ‬The king will let you go now,‭ ‬because of the gold.‭”

“It’s not that simple,‭” ‬Alina said.

She heard her mother’s indrawn breath.‭ “‬It is,‭ ‬my daughter.‭ ‬It is always that simple,‭ ‬to choose love.‭”

Alina‭ ‬stood very still.‭ ‬She‭ ‬squared her shoulders.‭ ‬She said,‭ “‬I know the goblin’s true name.‭”

Silence‭ – ‬but a silence more profound,‭ ‬somehow,‭ ‬than the ones that had come before.‭ ‬Alina snatched up her useless torch and rushed forward,‭ ‬into the shadows.

It was as she had suspected.‭ ‬Her mother was gone.

That afternoon,‭ ‬for the first time in her life,‭ ‬Alina lied to her father.

She didn’t know why she was doing it‭ – ‬another rare sensation for her.‭ ‬She was allowing herself to be guided by her emotions,‭ ‬like the silly noblewomen she had always despised.‭ ‬But something about hearing her mother’s voice had let her emotions loose,‭ ‬and something else‭ – ‬her anger at her father,‭ ‬perhaps‭ – ‬made her not want to rein them in.‭ ‬Besides,‭ ‬she trusted her own intelligence enough to consider that there was a good reason for her distrust of the king,‭ ‬even if she hadn’t fully figured out what it was.

So she lied.

She was very good at lying‭ – ‬it was another essential skill for a princess‭ – ‬and her father had no reason to doubt her.‭ ‬She explained her actions of the night before by telling of her intent to go,‭ ‬alone,‭ ‬and give herself to the goblin when he appeared.‭ ‬That part was true,‭ ‬yet it was the thing her father had the most difficulty with.

He didn’t tell her the truth,‭ ‬either,‭ ‬about why he couldn’t accept the obvious solution.‭ ‬He raged that she had no right‭; ‬that she‭ – ‬or rather,‭ ‬her impending marriage and the alliance that hinged upon it‭ – ‬were too important to the realm.

“‬Not as important as the gold,‭” ‬Alina corrected him.

She was right,‭ ‬and he knew it,‭ ‬and yet he raged.‭ ‬He,‭ ‬too,‭ ‬was being controlled by his emotions now.‭ ‬She marveled at it.‭ ‬Was this part of the goblin’s plan‭?

They said the fae were ruled entirely by emotions,‭ ‬that their courts were seething masses of love and hate and jealousy and desire.‭ ‬It had always sounded abhorrent to her,‭ ‬but now she thought she could see why some‭ ‬people were drawn to it.

It was a while before her father calmed down enough to ask the obvious question,‭ ‬and that was when she lied.

“‬He was there,‭” ‬she said,‭ “‬but the torch went out,‭ ‬and I didn’t see him.‭ ‬I told him I was there to fulfil my mother’s bargain,‭ ‬and he just‭… ‬he‭ ‬laughed.‭” ‬She shuddered.‭ ‬“It was not a human sound.‭ ‬I don’t know how I even knew it was laughter,‭ ‬but it was.‭ ‬And then he was gone.‭”

“The gold in the storeroom,‭” ‬one of the king’s sorcerers reported,‭ “‬is still straw.‭” ‬The sorcerers had been nervously silent while the king raged,‭ ‬and still looked nervous‭ – ‬as well they might,‭ ‬Alina thought,‭ ‬considering how useless they were turning out to be.

“‬Don’t you mean the‭ ‬straw is still straw‭?” ‬she asked pointedly.‭ “‬It was never truly gold.‭”

The sorcerers exchanged glances.‭ ‬One of them,‭ ‬a scrawny young man,‭ ‬said reluctantly,‭ “‬Human magic cannot change the true substance of things.‭ ‬But the fae‭… ‬we do not know what the fae can do.‭”

“It seems to me,‭” ‬Alina said,‭ “‬that there is a lot you don’t know.‭”

“Daughter,‭” ‬the king said warningly.‭ ‬The Sorcerers‭’ ‬League was a powerful‭ ‬force,‭ ‬not one to anger lightly.‭ ‬Alina knew this.‭ ‬The note of surprise in her father’s voice made her flush.‭ ‬But she kept her scornful gaze on the young sorcerer’s bony face.

“‬We know better than to go meet him on grounds of his choosing,‭” ‬the sorcerer snapped at her.‭ “‬If you had waited,‭ ‬things might have turned out‭ ‬differently.‭”

Alina was not surprised by the open disapproval in his eyes.‭ ‬She was used to it,‭ ‬from those who spent enough time with her to see past her beauty.‭ ‬People found her‭ ‬strange and unwomanly.‭ ‬The duke of Darmil,‭ ‬who had courted her last fall,‭ ‬had told her that she needed to acknowledge the passionate side of her nature‭ – ‬with an eye,‭ ‬apparently,‭ ‬to benefiting from that acknowledgment himself.‭ ‬But Alina saw the‭ ‬breathless romances and desperate tears of her maids,‭ ‬and‭ ‬had never seen any benefit in‭ ‬them.‭ ‬She liked being cool and calm,‭ ‬unaffected by emotional storms.

It didn’t bother her that so many found her unnatural.‭ ‬Her father,‭ ‬too,‭ ‬was calm and dispassionate‭ – ‬and her mother,‭ ‬it had always been impressed on her,‭ ‬was not.‭ ‬It was a good way to rule a kingdom.‭ ‬Her father liked her even demeanor.‭ ‬He always had.‭ ‬And he was the only one whose approval she had ever wanted.

Until last night.‭ ‬Until she heard the voice of the mother who loved her,‭ ‬and had suffered terribly for that love.‭ ‬It made her wonder what it would be like to love fiercely,‭ ‬wildly,‭ ‬without regard for consequences.‭ ‬It made her wonder if the duke was right,‭ ‬and there was something she was missing.

She kept her eyes on the sorcerer,‭ ‬and her voice angry,‭ ‬as she spoke.‭ ‬She didn’t want to look at the king,‭ ‬and she didn’t trust herself to disguise her voice.

“‬They‭ ‬will turn out differently,‭ ‬next time,‭” ‬she said.‭ “‬He has shown that he can be drawn into the open,‭ ‬by me.‭ ‬I can make him appear before the court.‭ ‬And before you.‭”

“How‭?” ‬It was the king who asked.

‬She had to look at him then,‭ ‬but years of training stood her in good stead.‭ ‬She met his faded blue eyes with utter calm.‭ ‬She even smiled.

I’m sorry,‭ ‬Father.‭ ‬But the thought didn’t make it into her voice.

“‬By the threat of taking me out of his reach.‭ ‬The king of‭ ‬Aimar has been pressing us to announce a betrothal.‭ ‬Let us do it in three nights‭’‬ time.‭”

The king looked at her for a moment.‭ ‬She had never noticed,‭ ‬somehow,‭ ‬the depth of the wrinkles around his eyes.

Then he turned and said sharply,‭ ‬to the sorcerers,‭ “‬Will that be enough time for you to set up a spell‭?”

The sorcerers assured him that it would,‭ ‬and the king nodded,‭ ‬even though they all knew that no human spell had ever captured‭ ‬any of the fae.

Only one human being,‭ ‬outside of legend,‭ ‬had ever held the fae to any sort of bargain.‭ ‬And that was Alina’s mother.

The ball was a bit sparse,‭ ‬due to its being so hastily put together.‭ ‬All the members of the court came,‭ ‬of course,‭ ‬and the few foreign dignitaries who happened to be in attendance‭; ‬but the ballroom still seemed‭ ‬empty,‭ ‬the music echoing a bit hollowly among the dancing couples.‭ ‬Alina took her turn among the dancers,‭ ‬wearing a‭ ‬violet gown of layered silk,‭ ‬her scalp aching from Rose’s ministrations.‭ ‬The king sat on the dais,‭ ‬his face‭ ‬blank.‭ ‬The sorcerers stood together at his side,‭ ‬blue-robed and murmuring secretively.

The goblin appeared in the middle of the dance floor.‭ ‬He appeared quietly,‭ ‬with no smoke or flames,‭ ‬so that it was a moment before the shrieks of the dancers alerted Alina to his presence.‭ ‬She stood utterly still as the lords and ladies stumbled and fled,‭ ‬some brushing hard against her in their haste,‭ ‬almost knocking her over.‭ ‬She planted her feet wide on the marble floor.

The sorcerers drew together and cried out a spell in unison.‭ ‬Alina felt that brush by her,‭ ‬too.‭ ‬The jostling of the dancers had not made her stumble‭; ‬the spell did.‭ ‬She took one step sideways,‭ ‬to keep her balance.‭ ‬But the goblin just stood there and grinned as the‭ ‬magic shattered against him.

He was ugly and beautiful at once.‭ ‬Ugly‭ ‬because he looked almost human and yet horribly‭ ‬not,‭ ‬beautiful in the wildness and magnetism that radiated from him.‭ ‬His skin was tinged green,‭ ‬his deformed features hovering between animal and human.‭ ‬He was short,‭ ‬and wide,‭ ‬and might have been naked.‭ ‬It was hard to tell if those shimmering blue-green feathers were his clothing or a part of him.

He ignored the dancers,‭ ‬the sorcerers,‭ ‬and the king.‭ ‬He looked at Alina,‭ ‬and her breath caught under the force of his gaze.‭ ‬It was so powerful that nothing else about his appearance seemed to matter.

“‬So,‭” ‬the goblin said.‭ ‬His voice was like discordant music.‭ ‬“You claim to know my true name‭?”

“I do,‭” ‬Alina said,‭ ‬her voice as cool as years of‭ ‬practice could make it.‭ ‬Only she felt the sharpness with which her fingernails dug into her palms.

“‬And you will call me by it‭? ‬Before the court‭?”

He knows,‭ ‬she thought,‭ ‬and forced her fingers loose.‭ ‬Her palms still hurt,‭ ‬and she felt the sharp sting of blood.‭ “‬I will.‭”

There was an utter silence,‭ ‬such as had never before been heard in the court of‭ ‬Ciern.‭ ‬Even the sorcerers‭’ ‬robes did not rustle.‭ ‬They stared,‭ ‬seven pairs of piercing eyes.‭ ‬They did not know.

“‬I will,‭” ‬she said again.

“‬Then do it,‭” ‬the goblin commanded.‭ “‬If you would have your freedom,‭ ‬do it.‭”

“Wait,‭” ‬the king said.‭ ‬Alina did not dare look at him,‭ ‬to see if‭ ‬he knew.‭ “‬What happens to her if she is wrong‭?”

The goblin’s protruding upper lip curled,‭ ‬touching the tip of his long nose.‭ “‬A bit late to be worrying about consequences,‭ ‬Your Majesty.‭”

“Someone else will‭ ‬say your name,‭” ‬the king said.‭ “‬I will do it.‭”

“It has to be me.‭” ‬Alina pulled herself as high as she could.‭ “‬The name is only true coming from me.‭” ‬She faced the goblin.‭ “‬I call you Father.‭”

If the court had been silent before,‭ ‬now it was a tomb.‭ ‬Even the king uttered not a sound‭ – ‬which told Alina that,‭ ‬if he had not known,‭ ‬he had at least suspected.

And had tried to protect her anyhow.

The goblin broke the silence with a laugh‭ – ‬a long,‭ ‬inhuman cackle.‭ ‬Alina did not flinch.

“‬How did you know‭?” ‬her‭ ‬real‭ ‬father asked,‭ ‬when finally he was done.

“‬I never felt‭ ‬truly human.‭” ‬Though she had never realized it,‭ ‬either.‭ “‬And my mother‭ ‬hinted at it,‭ ‬in a letter she wrote me.‭ ‬That was why she never expected my father to let me see the letter.‭”

The‭ ‬my father came out of her mouth without thought,‭ ‬and she felt the king’s flinch from halfway across the room.

“‬Then you will come with me,‭”‬ the goblin said,‭ ‬and she returned her attention to him,‭ ‬where it should have been all along.

He did not phrase it as a question,‭ ‬but Alina hesitated.‭ ‬Tell me before the court‭… ‬if you would have your freedom.‭ ‬And she had it.‭ ‬They all knew,‭ ‬now,‭ ‬that she was not the king of‭ ‬Ciern’s daughter,‭ ‬and that meant she was no longer useful.‭ ‬The treaty with‭ ‬Aimar would have to be sealed some other way.

She already had a few ideas for how‭ ‬that could be managed.‭ ‬She wanted to tell her father‭… ‬but he wasn’t,‭ ‬of course.‭ ‬Wasn’t her father.‭ ‬Her father was a creature of Faerie‭ ‬with whom‭ ‬her mother had dallied and then turned to for help.‭ ‬Whose child she had kept from him,‭ ‬for as long as she could.

Alina wanted to help‭ ‬the king anyhow‭… ‬but that was just something‭ ‬she wanted.‭ ‬He had many advisers,‭ ‬after all.‭ ‬At least half of them understood the political landscape well enough for their advice to be useful.‭ ‬But none of them‭ ‬could save‭ ‬her country.‭ ‬None of them‭ ‬could bargain with a goblin.

“‬Change the straw back,‭” ‬she said,‭ ‬in the tone she usually reserved for impertinent ambassadors.

“‬Come with me.‭” ‬He held out a hand‭; ‬it was overlarge,‭ ‬and gnarled,‭ ‬and his fingernails curved like claws.‭ “‬Your mother misses you.‭ ‬She will teach you our ways,‭ ‬and in a few days,‭ ‬you will be able to‭ ‬transform the straw yourself.‭ ‬If you still care to.‭”

Alina swallowed hard.‭ ‬This,‭ ‬she told herself,‭ ‬was‭ ‬where she could do the most good.‭ ‬Unless she plunged into the life of the fae,‭ ‬into love and passion and madness,‭ ‬and no longer cared about doing the most good.

The thought terrified her,‭ ‬and at the same time it pulled at her.‭ ‬The pull seemed stronger than the fear.

That was what‭ ‬the goblin was counting on.‭ ‬If you still care to.‭ ‬He’d said it as if it was a taunt.

Her real father grinned at her,‭ ‬a grin wild with pure delight.

She crossed the marble floor,‭ ‬step by steady step,‭ ‬and did not flinch as she took his hand.‭ ‬It felt cold and scaly and very strong.‭ ‬She half-turned,‭ ‬not meaning to,‭ ‬and looked at the king.

Who was standing.‭ ‬Who was being restrained by one of the‭ ‬sorcerers.

“‬Why‭?” ‬he demanded.‭ ‬Speaking to the goblin.‭ “‬Why do you want her‭?”

“Which‭ ‬her‭?” ‬the goblin said,‭ ‬and laughed.‭ “‬Because I loved‭ ‬your queen,‭ ‬as you did not.‭ ‬And this one is my daughter.‭ ‬I love her too.‭”

It was true,‭ ‬of course‭; ‬the fae couldn’t lie.‭ ‬And she could hear the sheer intensity in his voice when he spoke of her mother,‭ ‬the fierceness of his passion.‭ ‬If the duke of Darmil had spoken to her like that,‭ ‬would she have considered his offer after all‭?

Yet‭ ‬the goblin’s love had not kept him from leaving her mother in‭ ‬a marriage with a man she didn’t want,‭ ‬from‭ ‬bargaining with her for the fate of her child.‭ ‬The love of a fae would be possessive and selfish.

Perhaps that was what her mother had liked about it.‭ ‬Her mother,‭ ‬who had never known love.‭ ‬Alina wondered what it would be like to be loved that fiercely,‭ ‬wanted that openly.

The king‭ ‬shook off the high sorcerer’s grip.‭ ‬“Alina,‭” ‬he said hoarsely.‭ “‬Don’t.‭ ‬The gold is not important.‭”

He knew that wasn’t true.

“‬I’ll still care to,‭” ‬she assured him,‭ ‬calmly and‭ ‬surely.‭ ‬She smiled.

Then she turned and took the goblin’s other hand.

Three days after Princess Alina was kidnapped by the goblin in a spurt of smoke,‭ ‬all the straw in the castle storage rooms turned back to gold.

Three weeks later,‭ ‬when the king was in his study examining a map‭ – ‬the map of the border between‭ ‬Ciern and‭ ‬Aimar‭ ‬–‭ ‬the door opened and the princess walked in,‭ ‬still wearing her heavy‭ ‬violet betrothal dress.

The king looked up at the first creak and went very still.‭ ‬He looked older than he had three weeks ago,‭ ‬the wrinkles around his eyes deeper,‭ ‬his jaw sagging lower.‭ ‬He was‭ ‬silent for a space longer than he would once have been,‭ ‬before he said,‭ “‬They let you leave‭?”

“They couldn’t stop me,‭” ‬Alina said,‭ “‬once I knew their ways.‭”

A longer silence.‭ ‬Then the king said,‭ ‬in a voice that sounded even more unsteady by contrast with hers,‭ “‬And why‭ – ‬why did you come back‭?‬ Your mother didn’t want to,‭ ‬once she knew their ways.‭”

The silence was momentary but vast.‭ ‬Alina looked at her father,‭ ‬and knew she would never tell him of the time she had spent in the courts of the fae.‭ ‬Of the overwhelming force of their loves and passions,‭ ‬so wild and‭ ‬all-consuming that the tales of humans dying for faerie love made sense to her now.‭ ‬Of the warmth of her mother’s arms,‭ ‬satisfying a lack she hadn’t known she had.

She would never tell him how close she had come to staying,‭ ‬once she knew their ways.‭ ‬Until she had come across her mother’s letter,‭ ‬and opened it,‭ ‬and read it again.

You were nothing.‭ ‬Not when her mother had chosen to love‭ ‬one of the fae,‭ ‬or to lie with him,‭ ‬or to bear his child.‭ ‬Her mother had not loved her then,‭ ‬could not have loved her,‭ ‬because she didn’t yet exist.

Which was why love,‭ ‬for all its power,‭ ‬had failed her.‭ ‬It had come too late to make a difference.‭ ‬But responsibility‭… ‬responsibility was something you could feel for an unborn child.‭ ‬For a child not yet conceived.‭ ‬For the possibility of a child.

Or for thousands of people she didn’t know.

It is always that simple,‭ ‬to choose love.

But it was the king who had chosen love.‭ ‬Her mother had simply been swept away by it.

“‬Their ways are wild and fierce and free,‭” ‬Alina said at last,‭ ‬knowing her father wouldn’t understand.‭ “‬But our ways are real.‭”

The king looked at her,‭ ‬his expression grave.‭ ‬She wondered,‭ ‬suddenly,‭ ‬if he did understand.‭ ‬If he had always known,‭ ‬as she now knew,‭ ‬what she was giving up and what she was choosing.

“‬Besides,‭” ‬Alina said after a moment,‭ “‬I wanted to talk to you about Aimar.‭ ‬We will have to find another solution,‭ ‬now that I won’t be marrying their prince.‭”

“Aimar,‭” ‬the king said,‭ ‬after a long moment,‭ “‬will be a problem.‭”

“Perhaps,‭” ‬Alina said.‭ “‬I think I know how we might deal with them.‭”

The king nodded and moved over.‭ ‬Alina lifted her hem,‭ ‬stepped over the bench,‭ ‬and sat beside him.‭ ‬She pulled‭ ‬the map‭ ‬closer.

“‬I believe,‭” ‬she said,‭ “‬that if we build a bridge over the river here‭…‬.‭”

They bent their heads together to take a closer look,‭ ‬and remained that way for many hours,‭ ‬talking in low tones as the sky outside the window dimmed into dusk and‭ ‬then‭ ‬deepened into night.