Chapter Twenty Seven: The Last Chance
Another maid looked up. With every rip, more and more turned their attention to Feliciano. They gathered tightly around the well, watching in mute horror as he picked up a blouse and ripped the arm apart.
The Jack sighed, tossing it aside and picking up another. Gripping the edge, he twisted the fabric until it gave and split neatly down the middle. Now and then, the needle pricked at him from his pocket, adding to the urgency of his actions.
With only one trick left, this had to work.
Occasionally, Feliciano would glance at the courtyard in search of his mark. Sitting on an upturned bucket, he pulled a shirt up to his lap, watching and waiting while the young women around him muttered and whispered.
Suddenly he spotted her. The Ice Queen slipped from her castle, gracing the courtyard for her daily stroll. Ludwig walked beside her, hanging from the queen's arm like a dazzling ornament out of her collection.
Feliciano pulled out the needle and thread, quickly setting to work. Feeding the needle, he snapped the remaining string with his teeth and began to pull the torn cloth back together.
With every stitch, the cloth was transformed. Where the needle pierced, a rainbow of hues bloomed like a watercolor painting. The cotton was rebuilt, rough fibers replaced with the finest silk that glided under Feliciano's fingers.
When it was finished, he tossed it to the grass and quickly began another.
Feliciano had just pulled a third piece to his lap when the women rushed away from him. They herded together on the other side of the well as Feliciano fought against the exciting rush in his veins. As the large sheet changed to blue and golden silk, he looked up to find the stern eyes of Natasha watching.
She stood only a few feet from him, eyes constantly shifting between him and the rainbow of silk at his feet. Quickly, she thrust her hand out to him with the unspoken command.
Feliciano, tucking the needle back into the spool of golden thread, handed it to the faux queen.
Natasha weighed it in her palm for a brief second. Then, snapping her attention to the cowering women, called one forward.
"Pick up a shirt, girl." The queen tapped her toe in the icy grass. When the young woman had done as commanded, Natasha grabbed her by the wrist and thrust the magical gifts into her palm. "Stitch it together, just as that one did."
The young woman rushed to do as she was told. All the while, Natasha locked her eyes with Feliciano's again. She smirked a touch, crossing her arms over her chest.
Feliciano sat silently, his hands folded in his lap. He pressed his thumbnail sharply into his palm to keep a growing smile at bay.
Mirroring Feliciano, the servant thread the needle and snapped it free from the spool. However, under her hands, the string turned black and dull, and the cloth remained simple cotton. She flinched away when Natasha ripped the shirt from her.
The queen twisted it this way and that before, with a frustrated growl, threw it at Feliciano's feet.
"I can help, your Majesty?" Cautious of her growing ire, Feliciano stood. He picked up the gold and blue silk sheet and offered it to her. In the same breath, he held his hand to the servant and was quickly returned the offending needle and thread. "Whatever service you need, I'm more than willing to offer it? Just as I have with the other gifts…"
Holding the cloth before her, Natasha ran her fingers over it. The fine golden threads glittered and danced with the sun. Only her eyes moved, looking back up to Feliciano. "… it's refreshing to see you're finally learning your place."
Casting the sheet back to the pile, Natasha nodded. Feliciano offered her the spool once more, which the queen briskly tucked away.
"You'll use this gift of yours then and finish up our wedding attire. A servant will fetch you after dusk. Be prepared, girl, any word of rewards or gifts this time, and you'll find it's a long way back down the cliff."
She turned away from him, and in that brief moment, Feliciano dared to look at the mute prince. His heart lurched painfully into his ribs at the emptiness he found in Ludwig's eyes. The man's body was there, but any form of light that once made him up was all but siphoned away. Only a shell remained, the aftermath of a lost heart and a man resigned to his inevitable fate.
Feliciano raised his chin in defiance. At the movement, Ludwig's eyes twitched and began to follow the Jack. The stoic mask he wore cracked at the corners as his eyebrows pulled together. Deep in his eyes, a spark lit and began to grow in tandem with Feliciano's smile.
Natasha grabbed Ludwig's wrist, snapping his attention back to her. The mask was repaired instantly.
She dragged him away, spikes of ice rising from her footprints. Her ill-temper was boiling over, damaging the idyllic world she had created.
Ludwig glanced back only once, holding Feliciano's eyes until the door slammed behind them.