Midnight Wonders

4.5.1. The Covert King of the Yew

"You can't keep seeing him," Lavinia hissed as she led Cora back to her room from another meeting with Tristan in the Red Garden.

"I can, and I will," Cora said, feeling satisfied with the amount of food she'd managed to shove into her mouth in the time she'd spent with Tristan. Because she'd just been eating, he'd done most of the talking, telling her about all the passageways he had gone through. He'd almost been tearing his hair out recounting how he would walk on for ever down an unfamiliar hall and then turn and find that it returned to a place he'd been before.

"How do you know he hasn't got some trick up his sleeve?"

"Because I talked to him," said Cora, "and I believe him." He seemed a sincere person, and she thought it better to have hope in his goodness and take any opportunity she could get. She certainly wasn't going to find any other escape through Symphora. "If you're worried, I'll ask him to roll up his sleeves next time."

Lavinia huffed, rolling her eyes. "You're quite naive."

"I know," Cora said, frowning. "That's why I'm here."

They made it back to her room, and Opellia and Tulla hurriedly let them in.

"What's the matter?" Cora said, taking in their panicked and frazzled appearances. "Did Symphora come by?"

"She almost did," Opellia said, sounding breathless. "We pretended you were changing. She's probably going to come back, though."

"Thank you," Cora said, knowing it troubled them more to have to cover for her. She glanced at the day-glass on the bedside table, then slipped out the one Tristan had given her, which she hung from her waistband beneath her skirts. Although she'd gotten fairly good at reading a day-glass, Tristan had conveniently drawn little markings noting where the amount of sand corresponded to a specific time of day outside. It was about five or six in the afternoon now. At least relative to when she'd started the day.

Symphora didn't usually see her around this time. She typically came twice a "day": just after Cora woke, and just before she went to bed, around nine or ten.

"Did you hear anything about why?" Cora asked.

Opellia and Tulla shook their heads. The four of them shared a worried look.

"Well, put that away before she comes," Lavinia said, gesturing to the day-glass. "It's a good thing we didn't run into her in the halls—"

A knock sounded on the door. "Concordia?"

Cora didn't know where Symphora had gotten the idea that this was her name. She had surely corrected Symphora many times about it. She could give up on that, but not on leaving. "I'm here," she said.

Symphora entered, swathed in beautiful blue robes even richer in color than the rose-red of Cora's dress. Her hair was dark, like Emma's, and the heavy strands were lost in the winding folds of the fabric. "You finished your task already?" she said.

Cora nodded. She had Opellia and Tulla to thank for that, again—she'd done some work in the gardens, enough that she could run off to see Tristan and let the ladies finish the rest of it.

"Good," said Symphora. She looked Cora up and down. "You look a bit tired. Touch up, quickly. The King has summoned you."

"Wait," said Cora. "The King?"

Symphora's expression was stiff. She nodded. "Yes. It appears he's discovered you're here, and he's never been one to avoid a guest. I would have taken you to see him earlier, but he was feeling busy and you were still adjusting."

"How thoughtful of you," Cora said, remembering what Tristan had told her about the King of the Yew. He wouldn't approve of keeping her there. So could she convince him, somehow, to let her leave? Or at least show her the way out?

"Anything for you, my dear," said Symphora, voice still cold as ever. "Come, now. Let's not keep him waiting." She started to Cora's vanity, then paused. "Where is your rouge?"

Cora shared a panicked look with her ladies. "Oh," she breathed. She'd given it to Tristan, so he could mark the passageways he had already gone. "Um..."

"I lost it," Tulla blurted. "I'm sorry. I was clumsy. I dropped it somewhere in the wardrobe and it got lost."

Symphora gave her a cold look. "You mustn't lose things, especially if they aren't yours."

"I know," Tulla said, hanging her head. Cora wanted to hurry in with another lie, or perhaps even the truth, but Tulla had already taken the fall for her, so she just remembered to be extra thankful to her later.

Symphora moved on to the rest of the cosmetics and instructed Opellia on how to get Cora ready. When she was apparently satisfied with the way Cora looked, she said, "Good. Let's go."

Cora started to follow Symphora out the door, then looked back when she realized her ladies weren't following. "You're not coming?"

Opellia and Tulla hurriedly busied themselves making the bed, which was already made. "We'll ready your room for you," said Tulla.

"You go on," said Lavinia, giving Cora a meaningful look. Cora understood—while she was gone, they'd look for a way out.

Cora nodded. "Thank you, ladies." She looked back at Symphora, who was impatiently waiting at the door. "You picked the loveliest ladies to help me," Cora said, hurrying out of the room. "You really are so kind."

"Of course I am," said Symphora, breezing through the halls. "That's why you're here."

—

The King of the Yew really did live up top. Cora noticed as the floor began to slant upwards, gradually at first. Eventually it got to the point where they were hiking up a steep hill, and Cora was huffing and puffing while Symphora looked perfectly all right. Cora wondered if that was an extra perk of being royalty.

The floor finally leveled, and Cora paused to catch her breath, quickly hurrying after Symphora so she wouldn't notice. "The King of the Yew resides quite a while away," Cora said, trying not to let her shaky voice betray her exhaustion. This was nothing compared to how it had been before. It was just a little hike.

"He likes to be alone," Symphora said, not even looking at Cora with her head lifted high and regal. She always had her head up, using her chin to point this way and that. There was something very funny about the way it made her look. Though of course Cora would never let it show. She wondered how Symphora would react if Cora laughed at her. The thought of insulting her to her face was mortifying enough, though Cora couldn't help a certain twinge of curiosity.

They reached the end of the hall and were faced with large double doors. Symphora stepped forward, but swerved past the two doorknobs right in front of her and went instead to the wall beside the door and knocked.

There was a slight creaking, and then a small window opened in the wall and a round face peered out. "Hello?"

"I've brought her," said Symphora.

"I see," said the person on the other side of the wall, staring past Symphora at Cora. Cora, feeling a bit put on the spot, waved. "Come in, then." The window closed.

Symphora opened the doors. Inside, Cora could see a vast room, a painted wall and ceiling dripping with intricate patterns that wove in and out of each other. It was dizzying to look at.

Cora glanced at Symphora, who was still holding the door open. Symphora looked expectantly at her.

"You're not coming?" Cora said.

"The King asked for you only."

"Oh," she said. This was very good, then. It would be easier to talk to him without Symphora there. "Thank you." She entered the room, and the doors shut behind her.