Princess Awakening: Tower of Sand

Love and Heresy

Aurelie watched her mother take one, two, three steps into the room and then stop, standing completely inside the tower room for the second time that day—for the second time in her life. Aurelie glanced at Sera. The old woman was still crouched behind the door, and she was smiling, but she gave no other sign or direction. The weight of the red dress pulled down on the Aurelie's arms, and her eyes swept the room, so empty of any other offerings from the queen. Aurelie wanted to be thankful for the chance to wear her mother's gown, for this opportunity for connection and intimacy. But instead she felt as though some small, overly protective friar were clambering up into the bell-tower of her heart and yanking on the alarm.

She glanced down, and her eyes caught on the dress, on the intricate stitches of real gold thread. One, two, three—twelve stitches to pattern a flower. Her eyes moved along the embroidered line, finding order, finding control. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen— As she counted, an image formed in her mind, and she saw herself on the outside, free and glorious, but her head was down, counting stitches, too afraid to look up and bless her people, too afraid to serve or lead them. And she knew then that if she ever truly wanted to leave the tower, then she must do it first inside her own heart. She crumpled the fabric in her hands and looked up.

"I am glad you are staying, Maman," Aurelie said. "Because I need you to tell me something before I put on your dress—I need you to tell me the truth."

Yolande stiffened. "The truth?"

Aurelie nodded. "Why are you giving me this dress today?" she said. Her gaze was stern, though her voice remained gentle. "Why have I never seen you wear it before?"

Queen Yolande turned away, taking a step back toward the open door. "Red is not really my color," she said, folding her arms stiffly across her waist.

Aurelie didn't speak, waiting.

Yolande glanced back and sighed. "Very well," she said. "It was made for the day of your christening. That has always been a painful memory. But I thought that bringing back the dress today would be a symbol of our triumph."

Aurelie pondered this new information, the possibility that everyone in the kingdom would recognize her gown as soon as she stepped outside, each time she waved and every time she pressed one of her citizen's hands in her own. It was undoubtedly a statement, a grim one but also a powerful one: A new queen was rising out of the punishment of the last. The cruel game had finally ended, and the board was reset. Aurelie nodded. She could be this kind of a symbol for her people—for her mother. "Thank you for telling me," she said. "I will wear it."

"Put it on, then," Queen Yolande said, gesturing limply with her wrist.

Aurelie handed the cumbersome dress to Sera and stripped off her leather belt and her torn over-tunic, tossing them on the bed. She smoothed out a few wrinkles in her new chemise, feeling all too aware of standing, once again, less-than-dressed before the queen.

Just then, the lower tower door scraped open. The stairwell echoed with male voices. Crooning voices. Singing a love song. Aurelie startled, listening. "And so, my darling, I wait for thee. My heart will not hold long, it breaks for thee—" The king's agile footsteps pattered on the stair, and they were followed by an unfamiliar thump.

Queen Yolande closed and locked the tower door.

King Hugh continued to sing in his rich bass, while the other man harmonized with a full, warm tenor. "Do not deny me thy face, thy love. Or I'll die and be naught but your angel aboooove!" Both men held out the last note, and Aurelie shivered with shock—and curiosity. The men seemed to be patting each other on the shoulders and offering congratulations, and then the king ran up the last few stairs and banged on the door. "Cuckoo, Daughter! I've brought a surprise for you."