Prologue
"Come, little one. Walk with me and I shall tell you a secret."
The toddler's plump hand found her mother's slender fingers. She looked up and saw a flash of red on her smiling lips. The woman's long chestnut hair seemed lighter in the sun, and her daughter thought that she looked like a princess, which was a bit of an understatement, since her mother was the Queen of Albion.
The girl wanted to ask so many questions – why they had travelled to that place all of a sudden, what made the sun disappear at night, and why her father always insisted on wearing those awfully out-of-fashion breeches when clearly the royal tailor could provide him with better clothes. But her mouth was not yet used to forming sentences, and so she only echoed, "Secret?"
"That's right, my darling. I'm afraid that Mama will have to go on a long journey soon, and before I leave, there's something I must tell you."
She loved the rustle of the fallen leaves beneath her feet. She loved her little boots as well, but not as much as the sound of the grass and the gravel. Her feet enjoyed it as well, she could tell. The toddler squealed in delight when a particularly crunchy twig cracked underneath her toes. Suddenly, a daisy appeared in front of her eyes. She looked at the gloved hand that was offering it, and then she found her mother's warm eyes. Oh, that's right, her mother had been talking after all. She took the flower silently and pressed it against her chest.
"But first, before I tell you my secret, I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine. A very old friend, in fact."
The girl gazed up and followed her mother's finger, which was pointing to the biggest door that she'd ever seen. The door to the castle was also big, of course, but there was something about this one that made it different. Perhaps it was the material – this was some kind of stone that glimmered in the morning sun. The castle door was wooden and shiny only because it was polished every day. No, that wasn't the only difference. This door had an intricate design, with much richer ornaments than the one back at home.
Or perhaps it was the enormous face that occupied its center.
It was probably that.
The face stared down at her and then it looked at her mother. "Welcome back, Sparrow," it said, with a deep, cultured voice. "I see that you've brought your little one with you."
"I told you I would, Reginald. This is my little Grace."
"How do you do, child?" the demon door greeted her.
Grace blinked a couple of times and then looked up at her mother. "Reginald?" she asked.
"Don't ask me. He chose it."
"'Tis a fine name, child," the door replied, slightly miffed. "If you must know, it has run in the family for generations. Or at least it would, if I had a family. Which, I may have heard once or twice, is not the best thing that can happen to you if you want to keep your sanity." He frowned at the Queen. "Is that why you're here after all these years? Do you wish to enter the Retreat? You must leave the child behind if that is what you want. She smells… wrong."
"The things you say, Reginald," Sparrow murmured, shaking her head. "She's just a child."
"Indeed. One that reeks of power still leashed. I would not wish to have an accident in there. You know there is a 'No unleashing power' policy in my dimension!" the door stated, pursing its lips.
"It will be years before she understands…" The Queen knelt down before her child. "Listen to me, Grace. Many things will be revealed in the years to come, some of them lies and some others truths. Both might hurt." She took a diary from the deep pockets in her regal dress. "There will come a time in which you might need solace, and this will give you certainty where there is not."
She extended her left hand and something glittery came out. The girl gaped at her mother's hand, and let out a tiny gasp when the thick, slow magic poured over the book. She was about to touch it when the Queen raised her right hand and a silver wind enveloped the spellbound diary. When both powers came together, they formed a white crystal sphere. The Queen took it in her gloved hands and walked to the pond nearby. She dropped it into the water and down it went, until the child could no longer see it.
"When the time is right, you will retrieve it." She offered the toddler her hand once more. Grace hesitated. Who knew what could come out of that hand? Her mother smiled and took off her glove, wiggling her fingers. "Nothing to fear, darling." They walked back to the door.
"'Nothing to fear,'" the door mocked her. "'Tis not as if magic had ever hurt your beloved ones, right?"
"I don't know why I came to see you," Sparrow sighed.
"Because you want me to remind this child of this moment. Children are silly. Their heads absorb such vast amounts of information, but what do they do with it? Nothing. They just delight in finding new places where to stick their bogeys." Reginald watched the Queen chuckle and shake her head. "Does that mean that your journey is definite?"
"Yes. Where I'm going, my children shouldn't follow." She patted the door amicably on the cheek. "Don't let her forget, will you?"
"Hmph," the door grunted.
Grace couldn't tell for sure whether the door didn't care or if he was trying to express discontent at her mother's decision, but as she was pondering the curious and varied attitudes of adults when dealing with impending good-byes, a butterfly flew by, distracting her. She couldn't tell whether it was black and blue or gold and white.
Such a curious thing.
~ . ~
Jasper tied the ribbon under her chin and wrapped her up. "Are you ready, Princess?" he asked her gently as he offered his hand. She nodded. Such pretty shoes would surely get ruined in the rain; Jasper himself had said so lots of times. Grace wondered why he was letting her wear them now but she decided not to inquire further, lest he changed his mind.
They walked along the terrace and down the stairs, and the soldiers saluted them grimly. When they set foot in the garden, Sir Walter took her in his arms and hugged her tight. She hugged him back. She'd always liked Walter's warm hugs.
"My dear child," he murmured, kissing her forehead.
Jasper cleared his throat discreetly, and Grace realized that Walter had made something improper. She knew the butler's sounds and inflections very well. "Ah-hem!" meant "you should stop doing that" and "cough-cough" was more like "I can't believe I'm hearing/seeing this". Walter evidently knew them too, for he left her back on the ground and told Jasper to make sure that she was taken care of.
Grace saw lots of pretty ladies standing under colorful umbrellas, but they were dressed in black and they look sad. The noblemen patted their wives' hands and they shook their heads, muttering things like, "Such a pity," "What a tragic loss," and "The good ones always die young". ("Wait, what do you mean 'young'? The Queen hadn't been young for a long time. There's no way someone could remain that young for so many years." "Well, maybe not some other Queen. This one was a Hero Queen. They're bound to be different, aren't they?")
Was? Grace wondered.
As they walked down the steps, she noticed the casket that was being lowered into the catacombs. She looked up at Jasper, who squeezed her plump hand with unusual affection. "Be strong, dear Princess," he murmured with sadness.
They watched part of the procession march in, and after some time they came out, led by Walter. He stood in front of the people, and raised his hands. Grace could see a crown of pure gold, just like the one her mother occasionally wore. Walter lowered the crown onto a boy's head.
"Logan!" Grace squealed, waving at her brother.
Logan cast a quick glance at her and immediately looked away. But she knew that he had seen her, for her brother's lips had discreetly curled into a smile.
Walter bowed before the boy and the rest of the people imitated him. Grace was wondering if it was some kind of game that she hadn't been taught, when the man bellowed, "The Queen is dead! Long live the King!"
"Long live the King!" the people of Albion cheered.
Well, she thought.
It appeared that her mother wouldn't be coming back home any time soon.
...
.