Fantastical (Fantasyland 3)

I was dreading it. I would have to spend all day with his people all around, pretending they liked me. It was going to be torture.

What I was not dreading were my plans for him.

I was going to bake him a birthday cake.

I had no money (anything I bought in the village was tallied up and sent as a bill to Perdita to pay) and I had no way of earning money and I didn’t want him to have to pay for his own birthday present.

So I was going to give him something from my world.

I was going to make him a red velvet cake (without the red, of course, because I was pretty sure they didn’t have red food dye). I was going to do this because it was the only cake I knew how to make by memory and also it was a freaking great cake.

I just hoped I could find all the ingredients.

“And what do you have planned for my birthday, my sweet?” Tor asked quietly, regaining my attention.

“Again, honey, you’re not allowed to ask.” My hand slid from his chest to his jaw and I whispered, “You’ll see.”

His eyes moved over my face again before he replied, “What I see is, whatever it is, I should look forward to it.”

“Oh yes,” I returned.

His fingers dug into my hip, he dipped his head to brush my lips with his and when he pulled away he murmured, “Then I’ll leave you to it.”

I didn’t want him to leave me to it.

In this world, I had Aggie and I had Tor. But Tor was a prince, he ruled a princedom and his sister-in-law was in the clutches of an evil witch-god. He had a number of things to occupy his mind. Which meant, as each day threaded into the next, I had to find ways to amuse myself without him.

Which sucked.

But, when he came to me in the evenings, he found ways to make it all worth it.

I pulled away giving him a bright smile and calling, “See you later.”

I smiled at Algernon, gave Salem another stroke, collected Aggie, setting him on my shoulder and didn’t quite meet the eyes of my many onlookers as I sauntered away.

“You need to be back, Cora, by noon!” Tor called from behind me.

“I will, honey!” I called back. “Way before that!”

I made it three more steps before a fat, ginger cat wove through my ankles.

“Brrr morrrrning, Prrrrrincess Corrrra,” she purred.

“Calliope, like I tell you every day, you can’t eat Aggie,” I admonished, she leaped away but stopped, sat on her fat tush and blinked at me in irritation.

Distracted by Calliope, I caught a vendor’s eyes accidentally; he gave me a seemingly bright smile, tipped his cap respectfully and muttered, “Princess Cora.”

“How are you, Boris?”

He straightened from the wares he was organizing and winked. “Doin’ well, with the party comin’ on. Bellebryn throws a good party, especially for its prince. Wait ‘til you see, yer grace.”

“Can’t wait!” I cried, clapping my hands in front of me and lying through my teeth.

“See you there, yer grace,” he called as I moved away.

“Save a dance for me, Boris,” I called back then I gave him a bright wave and brighter smile before I moved through the vast, black, wrought iron, silver crest encrusted gates and into the village.

As I strode the cobbled streets, I smiled and nodded my head as people smiled back. I returned greetings when they were offered to me. I extended them when I saw someone I knew or was given an opening. I touched little children’s heads when I passed them, grinning into (fake) beaming mothers’ faces.

Mostly, I chatted with Aggie, who chatted back, and I worried I wasn’t going to be able to find mascarpone cheese.

Then I went to the house with the blue door and knocked.

It was thrown open by a harassed-looking, wide-hipped woman who had a two year old, bawling toddler at her hip and a four year old, snot-faced child clutching her skirts.

She bobbed a curtsy and then looked in my eyes. “Oh, Princess Cora, I’m glad you’re here! Thank the gods you could make it on this, of all days.”

I tipped my head to the side and stated, “I never miss a day, Blanche, you know that.”

And I didn’t. When I’d heard Perdita talking with one of the maids about her cousin Blanche who had two children, a husband away at sea and a frail mother to look after, I’d cautiously offered my services to help out any way I could. Perdita had asked Blanche and then informed me those services were taken up.

So, every day, never missing one, I went to the house with the blue door so Blanche could do whatever she needed to do and I could look after her mother for a spell.

Her face broke into a smile and she muttered, “No, thank the gods yet again, you never do. Bless you. She’s upstairs, waiting for you.”

“Right, scurry on, you all!” I ordered, rumpling the four year old’s hair as he passed by. Then Aggie and I went into the house and I jogged up the wooden steps, circled the railing and entered the room where the old woman sat in her rocker, staring out at the sea but seeing, I knew, nothing. “Heya, Clarabelle,” I called softly and her sightless eyes came to me, her face wreathed in a genuine smile.

I was wrong. I didn’t just have Aggie and Tor. Clarabelle, I was pretty certain, also liked me.

“Chirp!” Aggie chirped his greeting.

“Hullo, my princess. Hullo, Aggie,” she called back, I moved into the room, grabbing the book as I passed it. I dragged a chair toward her, bent to kiss the paper-thin skin of her cheek then lifted my fingers for Aggie to hop onto.

He did, I transferred him to Clarabelle’s offered hand then she brought him toward her and stroked him as I sat.

“Do you want me to get right into it? We left it at a good part last time,” I reminded her.

“If you want, Cora, my dear. Or, we can chat. Are you well?” she replied.

“Very,” I somewhat lied.

There were things that were good (dinner at night with Tor, bedtime, again with Tor, waking up when Tor was there and sometimes I could lose myself in the fantasyland around me) and other things that were bad.

“And our prince?” she asked.

“Um… worried about his brother, I think,” I answered, having told her (although no one else knew and I swore her to secrecy) about Rosa, Dash and the evil Minerva.

“I daresay, he would be,” she murmured, her voice somehow strange, then her hand came out, searching, I extended mine, she caught it and squeezed it gently. “You sure you’re well?” she asked softly.

“I’m perfectly fine,” I outright lied. “Happy,” I kind of lied. “Life is good.”