The Queen’s Gift
On the morning of her wedding to a man she didn’t know, Princess Alaia woke up in the arms of the woman she loved. They were curled up in a carriage in the royal stables, comfortable on its plush seats and warm from the thick blankets piled inside. More importantly, they were obscured from the view of the palace guards, who had doubled in count to protect the family from any ruckus the day’s festivities might cause.
Alaia shifted so she was face to face with her lover, who was still asleep. Zeb was a herder from the northern mountains, and her snow-white face, starkly outlined by boyishly cropped jet black hair, looked like a doll’s. Alaia brought two fingers to Zeb’s temple and gently traced the outline of her face, past her delicately pointed ear and along her jawbone, then up the dimple of her chin to her lips.
At the light touch Zeb’s lips parted, like a pink flower bud beginning to bloom. Her eyes fluttered open.
“Good morning,” Alaia whispered.
“You look beautiful,” Zeb murmured, her words thick with sleep. She squeezed Alaia in close, and the princess relaxed, allowing her body to melt into her lover’s one last time.
The moment passed too quickly. Birds twittered from the branches above, signaling the fast approach of dawn. Alaia tried to wriggle out from Zeb’s grip. “I need to get back before light.”
Zeb held on. “Are you sure you can’t come with me?”
“I can’t. They would find me.”
With a final kiss, Zeb let go. At the door to the stable, Alaia looked back just once before darting into the cold, grey dawn.
A quarter of an hour later the princess stood at her bedroom window, up one of the palace’s highest towers, and watched the streets below fill with people preparing for the wedding and coinciding yuletide festivities. An eclectic queue formed at the palace gates, holding gifts for the bride — wine and liquors, sweets, textiles, jewels. The white lights that covered the evergreen trees that lined the royal village grew dimmer as the rising sun took over.
Alaia looked out at the mountains in the distance. They looked regal, laden with thick quilts of snow. She imagined traveling across them with Zeb into the lands beyond.
Three sharp raps at the door startled the princess from her reveries. The queen stepped in, already dressed for the day. “I will help you get ready.”
The queen worked in chilly silence. Alaia winced as she yanked her hair into tight sections and wove the pieces together, making a beehive of auburn braids atop her head. She then moved on to Alaia’s face, dabbing her eyelids with vibrant blue powder and dusting her cheeks with flecks of silver.
Standing behind the princess at the mirror, the queen finally spoke.
“What is her name?”
Alaia opened her mouth but no words came out. She stared at the queen’s reflection. Her expression was inscrutable.
“Zeb.”
“Do you love her?”
Alaia’s reply was soft, but sure. “I do.”
To Alaia’s surprise, the queen let out a long, deep sigh, then sat down on a plush ottoman that was next to the mirror. “I remember my wedding day.” She looked at a spot on the floor. “You know, I didn’t want to marry your father.”
“Really?” Alaia took a tentative step towards her mother. “Why not?”
“I was in love with someone else.” She continued staring at something Alaia couldn’t see.
The queen snapped to, and looked alertly at her daughter. “I have something for you.” She removed a small pouch from her robes, tied with a thin gold thread.
“Thank you.” Alaia loosened the tie and shook out the contents of the pouch. A sapphire stone fell onto her palm, heavy and cold. It was attached to a silver chain. “It’s beautiful.”
“Do you know what that is?”
Alaia shook her head.
The queen rose and fastened the necklace around her daughter’s neck. “It’s a stormstone. Your father gave it to me after the wars when you were in my womb. Said one of his men found it during their attack east.”
The stone shimmered in the sunlight that poured through the window.
“To him it was just another piece of jewelry. But I heard its cry. Inside the walls of this gem rages a storm. It’s been trapped inside for centuries and is restless to break free.”
Her voice was hypnotic.
“Today, when the royal procession leads your wedding carriage to the edge of town, you will dash this stone on the ground and free the storm within. In return, it will free you.”
When Alaia stepped outside, the sun was high and the crowd outside the gates was thick. The people gasped at the sight of the princess’ gown, which sparkled like a thousand snowflakes.
The wedding procession travelled through the palace gates, across the royal grounds, and into town. Children ran alongside, waving mini flags and licking peppermint spiral pops that were bigger than their heads. Vendors pushed trolleys of seasonal goodies: candy sticks, cider, mulled wine.
As her carriage neared the edge of town, Alaia recalled her mother’s instructions. She would have only a few minutes, when the parade route slipped outside of the town’s boundary. She unfastened her necklace.
She held the stone close to her face and watched the storm erupt inside of it, a frenzy of white, while winds whispered a tune of escapism.
It was time to act. Alaia reached out the window, fist clamped around the necklace, then threw the stone down as hard as she could. It shattered with a wild animal’s roar and whiteness burst from it. The whiteness rose into a raging storm that twisted and bent and howled.
The carriage lurched to a stop. Alaia opened the door and stepped into the whiteness. Instead of meeting the ground, her foot, followed by the rest of her body, was scooped up by the storm. The storm went north.
