Return to the Nine Kingdoms

48

Ferd
What Ferd would have given for a nap in a nice, warm bed—he'd have sold his right arm for just a break from the ever-pressing wind and the weather that shifted from pelting sleet to heavy snow and then back without warning. It had only been three days since he'd watched the Fairies disappear, clutching onto the shoulders of Wolf, Virginia, and Rose. The Fairies had writhed in brief agony the moment the Magic took hold of them and Ferd had thought in the same moment that sending the Lewis family with them had been a terrible mistake. But then they were gone and he'd not had one word from any of them since. There were no mirrors, Magical or not, in the Sixth Kingdom anymore—or at least in the castle—but Virginia still could have used her power to Summon him. He wouldn't have minded the discomfort and he was actually curious how it would feel to have the Magic coursing through his mind, willing him to answer Virginia.
"No, Ed," he warned the rat.
Edgar had come to find him on the first day after the Fairies were gone. Their protection, their Magic, and all of the luxuries the Sixth Kingdom barely knew it had, was all gone and they had felt the full brunt of the Ice Queen's never ending storm. The little rat, who had become a little more plump in just the short time he'd been at the castle's ancient stores, shook in his thin skin and tried incessantly to burrow more deeply into Ferd's clothes.
"Come now, Ed," Ferd continued, "I need to concentrate."
He was sitting in one of the rooms below the main dormitories and where most of the clothes and linens would have been cleaned and hung to dry. There were several large basins built into the foundation that had long ago run completely dry and the mortar around the stones that lined them was cracked and crumbling. There hadn't been a need to repair them just yet and, with only a few days of use, the castle's occupants hadn't needed much of anything laundered.
Above him and out in the gatehouse there was a constant stream of Sixth Kingdom residents who had left the general safety of their homes and hovels to gather and greet the King and Queen. Some had been asleep for the same amount of time as the monarchs and some had watched the decades pass by as they waited for the curse to run its course. For many of those who had survived the initial curse, their descendants were the ones who made the journey for them.
Braving the storm, five of the houseboys traveled from the castle two mornings before and sped toward what had been at one time the Sixth Kingdom's most populated villages. Three had returned within a few hours with news that the villages they'd sought out had decayed to nothing and they'd instead come upon tiny settlements tucked into the thickest parts of the forests.
"Shall I make you a suit of your own, little one?" Ferd asked Edgar as the rat picked apart a seam near his shirt collar. "I will, you know. I will make you a fine suit just like mine. I...just...need to concentrate!"
He picked up the rat from his shoulder and set him down among the squares of fabric and pots of wax scrapings he'd collected from the dining hall floors. Without the Fairies to maintain them, the candles had all burned out and left the dining hall feeling empty and frighteningly cold, but Ferd had found use for what was left behind. He'd lit the fire in the scullery himself—it was usually used to boil water for the clothes and was a large open pit with the flat chimney still blackened with centuries of soot. He was hunched as near to it as he could, sitting where a maid might have used its light to mend the King's stockings or add embroidery to the Queen's skirts. What he was working on, however, was more than just fancy dress for a party, and if he could just get the seams doubled properly, he could test that his newest invention would work against the Ice Queen herself.
"I don't know, Edgar," he told the rat.
If there'd been anyone else in the room, they might have thought he'd lost his mind since they couldn't hear what he could hear in terms of conversations with creatures large and small. Ferd could hear the hogs that had awoken hungry in their sty, loudly screaming for attention, but only he could hear their words. The stablehands who tended them heard only the grunts and snorts. Ferd tried his best to ignore the squeals of the fattest hog as it was led to the slaughterhouse—he knew it must be done in order to feed the now starving visitors to the castle—but the animal's fear was very real. Hearing the animals around him was truly a blessing but was at the same time a living curse that no Fairy could break. He could thank his ancestor for the ability, though he'd never received any great explanation as to why Cinderella's descendants were able to converse with animals.
In the springtime, a young Ferd would have often carried on for hours with every chirping bird that swooped near the windows of the small villa in the southern region where his family lived. Sitting at the hearth in Queen Bea's scullery, alone except for Edgar and with a storm that chased away most of the lively creatures that would have normally been flitting around the castle, Ferd thought of his widowed mother and hoped that she was safe in the villa. It was near the southern sea and remained warm and comfortable most times of the year. As a family far removed from the politics of Queen Cinderella's court, he hoped, too, that the Ice Queen wouldn't go looking for the would-be heir to the First Kingdom and find his defenseless mother instead.
"Bring yourself about, Edgar," Ferd instructed the rat.
Edgar had realized the great warmth from the crackling fireplace and sat with his tiny palms exposed to the flames. He turned, as directed, and sniffed at the folds of fabric that draped over Ferd's legs. He nodded.
"With a little luck, and with every bit of linen this castle has to offer, we'll be one step ahead of that witch."
Edgar scolded Ferd with a waving hand and received only a moderate laugh in return.
"I can call her what I want, Edgar. Or haven't you heard? I'm a Prince now, so it seems. They can do whatever they want!"
Ferd cried out in mock pain with the feeble bite Edgar gave him through the fabric he'd worked so hard to perfect. He'd slathered the warmed wax into the linen over and over again, ensuring that every fiber was coated properly. He'd doubled the fabric and creased the seams tightly so that every inch of the inside was impenetrably protected from practically everything the Ice Queen could throw at them.
"Now to test it," Ferd told Edgar once he'd made his final stitches. His call used fingertips were tired and pricked so many times with the needle that he could barely feel them, but he ran his hands over the linen once more and was satisfied that he'd improved upon his design. "It won't fly, of course, but it will do just nicely."