Enchanted Twelve: Quinn ch. 01

"Anne Aurora Westingfield! Are you naked?"

Her oldest sister's voice interrupted her day dreaming.

"Don't call me that!"

Danielle sighed and said "Quinn. Are you naked?"

Quinn tucked her bare, albeit covered by a half-healed bruise on her shin and a scraped knee, but nonetheless naked, back under the cloak she was wearing.

"No, of course not. See?" Quinn pulled aside the edge of the patched cloak. Her sister leaned around the boatman's body and saw the bottom of the garment just above Quinn's knee.

"You might as well be naked, Quinn! What happened to the dress you were supposed to put on?"

"I was reading and I lost track of time. You said we had to go right then and I just grabbed my cloak and my satchel and ran down the steps to meet you," Quinn answered.

"And what's in that satchel that was more important than your dress?"

Quinn rummaged around in the worn leather bag at her feet. "A book I found on the top shelf of the library, a couple of candles and ..." Her voice trailed off as she bent down to the bag again. " Apples," she said with a smile, holding one up in the moonlight.

Danielle shook her head and turned her attention back to the mouth of the man guiding the boat down the gently flowing river. Quinn trailed her fingers in the water, watching the moon reflected in the dark water ahead. The boat seemed to be sailing to the moon. She smiled at the thought.

The boat floated to the dock and bumped gently against the wooden planks. The boatman helped the sisters step onto the boardwalk leading up to the castle. A uniformed guard bowed to the princesses as he opened the door. The princesses walked through the halls of the castle.

Quinn blinked in the bright light of thousands of candles reflected in the many mirrors hung on the walls of the ballroom. The first few nights she'd sat in the corner of the vast room, watching her sisters dance all night. No one ever asked her to dance, or paid much attention to her at all. Last night she'd left the ballroom and began to explore the castle.

It was quite an interesting place. She'd found a staircase leading up to the gallery where she'd spent a good portion of the night watching her sisters pair off with their princes. Quinn had listened to the sighs and rustling of clothing as the couples drifted off the dance floor and into the rooms adjoining it.

Quinn climbed the steps to the upper floor and opened a door she hadn't noticed before. Another set of stairs, much narrower and darker than the ones she'd just left, awaited her. She took a candle from her bag and lit it with one of the candles on a nearby table.

She began climbing the steps, stopping once to brush cobwebs from her face. The stairs circled up and up for what seemed to Quinn to be miles. At last she reached the top where a small door was slightly open. Quinn went through the small door, short enough that she bumped her head as she passed through.

She found herself on one of the turrets of the castle. She peeped over the parapet. Wispy mists of pale grey fog surrounded the castle. Quinn looked up. A silvery crescent moon floated in the sea of twinkling stars. Her candle guttered and went out in the cool breeze.

"Rats!" Quinn turned to go back down the steps to relight her candle.

"Ooof! Quinn! Watch where you're going! You almost pushed me over the wall!"

"Jerome!" Quinn cried. She would have recognized his voice anywhere. Jerome was one of the stewards of her father's castle. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Jerome replied. "I spent all day riding from your father's most distant property. I put my horse away, turned around and bumped into you. Where are we?"

"I'm not exactly sure. A castle someplace. Danielle wakes us up and we all come here. The other sisters dance and well, um, do other things. I just watched them the first night and now I..."

"The first night? Quinn, how long have you been coming here?" Jerome's tone was a mixture of surprise and horror.

"It's been days. Since you left, I think," Quinn replied. She shivered in the cool night air and wrapped her cloak more securely.

"You're cold. Let's go down where it's warmer. We can see if we can get this whole thing straightened out later." Jerome took her hand and led her over to the door she'd entered. He tugged on the handle, but nothing happened.

"Quinn, the door is locked. Where's the key?"

"Key? I don't have a key. It was open when I came up here."

Jerome pushed and pulled on the handle, pounded on the door and yelled to no avail. The door remained shut and no one came up the stairs to rescue them.

"It appears we are to remain here until someone notices you didn't return to the ballroom."

"Oh. That could be a very long time. No one knows I'm up here."

"Surely someone will miss you, Quinn."

"No, I don't think so. They were all very... um... b-b-busy when I left." Quinn's teeth began to chatter.

"We'll worry about that later. Right now, we need to get you warm." Jerome picked up the bundle from his feet and pulled out a tattered blanket. "It's not much, but it should help. Come here."

Jerome draped the blanket over Quinn's shoulders. "Warmer?"

"Oh, yes. But what about you? Aren't you cold, too?"

"A little, but I'll be fine."

"Here," Quinn said, opening up the blanket and tugging Jerome close to her. "We can share."

"No, Quinn. That wouldn't be proper. You're a princess of the realm and I am but a poor steward, and a foundling at that."

"Jerome, you are so much more than that. You are my best friend. And you shouldn't be cold when there's a perfectly good blanket we can share. Look around you. We're all alone. Who's going to know if my behavior is proper or not? Besides, I'm sure they're all used to my behavior by now. I have a very hard time being a proper princess. Most of the time I don't even try anymore."

"But still ..." Jerome protested.

"No," Quinn interrupted. "Please share the blanket. We'll both be much warmer, you know."

Quinn opened the blanket and Jerome stepped reluctantly into its warmth, adjusting the folds to envelope them both.

"Isn't this better?" Quinn murmured.

"Yes," Jerome replied. "Now, tell me more about this place."

"I don't know much more than I've already said. Danielle wakes me in the middle of the night. I change into my best dress and dancing slippers. Well, not tonight, but all the other nights..."

"Surely you have something on under that cloak." Jerome's voice sounded vaguely shocked.

"Of course, I have something on. Why do people keep asking me that?" Quinn grumbled.

"I suppose even you wouldn't leave the castle without wearing a dress." Jerome chuckled at the thought.

"Um. I didn't say anything about a dress. I am wearing clothes, just not a dress." Quinn admitted.

"Quinn," Jerome said with a sigh. "Perhaps we had better change the subject. There are some things that a man does not need to know about a princess, especially in the situation we find ourselves."

"Oh." A small voice answered. "I will tell you if it is important to you."

"No," Jerome said firmly. "Tell me about what else happens."

"Everyone dances. Well, everyone but me..."

"Why don't you dance?"

"Everyone has a prince there. Everyone but me. So I just sat and watched." Quinn answered.

"No one asked you to dance?"

"No," Quinn answered, "and besides, I can't dance." Her voice trailed off into a soft, barely audible mumble.

"What? Of course you can dance. All of your sisters can dance. They all learned years ago." Jerome answered.

"Yes," Quinn said. "They all learned. I didn't."

"Why ever not?" Jerome asked in astonishment.

"I was always too busy learning other things."

"What other things? I should think dancing would be a very important skill for a princess to have."

"Now, perhaps, but when my sisters were learning, I was more interested in other things."

"Such as..." Jerome prompted.

"Oh, just things."

"Quinn. What things? You can tell me."

Quinn shrugged her shoulders but said nothing.

"Please. I really want to know."

"If you must know, I was learning to climb trees and shoot arrows and ride a horse and sword play."

"Quinn, those are all things I taught you. Why didn't you say something? We could have postponed those things. They were just for amusement. They could have waited."

"Oh, no! They were very important to me. I liked doing those things. I may not know how to dance, but I am very good at all those other things."

"Except for the swordplay," Jerome chuckled. "I should know. I have the scar to prove it, too."

Quinn turned inside the sheltering warmth of the blanket, and his arms, to face Jerome. "That really wasn't my fault, you know."

"Quinn, you almost cut my head off with your father's sword," he chuckled. This was an old argument, one they'd replayed many times.

"I was trying to dub thee a knight of the realm. I didn't realize the sword was so sharp. Does it still hurt?" she asked softly, lightly tracing her fingers over the faded red line.

"No, Quinn. It doesn't hurt. While you were sewing it up, then, yes, it did hurt." Jerome smiled down at her.

"Both of us were crying by the time I'd finished that last stitch, but I couldn't let Papa know. I was never, ever supposed to touch his swords."

"A very wise man, your father."

"With a little more practice, I could have done it." Quinn said.

"Quinn, the sword was taller than you were. And speaking of practice, Princess, you really should know how to dance. I could teach you to dance. Your place is down there with your sisters, finding your prince."

Something seems to think my place is here with you, she thought to herself. To Jerome she simply said, "Ah, but we need music."

"Ah," Jerome mocked, "but listen." Strains of a lilting melody could be heard drifting around the tower parapets.

"Oh, where did the music come from?" Quinn asked.

"I'm not sure. Perhaps the wind shifted and we can hear the musicians playing in the ballroom."

"Or perhaps it's magic," whispered Quinn.

"I don't normally believe in magic," Jerome replied, tugging the blanket from Quinn's shoulders and taking her hand, "but tonight seems the perfect time for magic."

"So, Princess. Let's teach you to dance. That hand goes on my shoulder and I'll put my hand here." Jerome guided her hand into the proper position. "And this one," gently squeezed the hand he'd been holding, "is perfect right where it is."More than you'll ever know, princess, he thought to himself.

Quinn looked up at Jerome and smiled. "This part I can do. It's all the rest that I don't have a clue about."

"There isn't any 'rest', Quinn. It's simply you and me, enjoying the music. Just relax and move where I guide you."

"Like this?" Quinn asked anxiously. "I don't think I'm doing it right."

"You are doing fine. Just relax a little." They danced. Quinn moved awkwardly at first and then more gracefully as she learned the steps. As the music changed, she stumbled, stepping onto Jerome's foot.

"Ow, Quinn! That hurt."

"I'm so sorry. I told you I was no good at this. And these boots make it even harder."

Jerome looked down at Quinn's feet, shod in worn boots, probably originally belonging to a page from the castle. "What happened to those delicate dancing slippers princesses are supposed to wear to the ball?"

"Mine wore out that first night. Oh, not from dancing. From climbing stone stairs and that apple tree right outside my window."

"Apple tree? No, please don't tell me. I'm certainly better off not knowing any more." He took a closer look at Quinn's feet. "Hey! Are those my old boots?"

Quinn blushed, her pink cheeks rosy even in the moonlight. "They were too big for the page you gave them to, and they fit me perfectly so I kept them."

"Quinn. Quinn. Quinn. What am I going to do with you?" Jerome asked, shaking his head while smiling all the while.

You could kiss me, Quinn thought and then immediately stopped, surprised at even the idea of wanting a kiss from Jerome.

"Why'd you stop, Quinn? You were doing so well."

"I think maybe I'm getting dizzy from all the dancing. It is much harder than it looks. Maybe we can take a little rest." Quinn dropped her hand from Jerome's shoulder but didn't let go of the hand she'd been holding.

"Of course. I didn't realize..." Jerome led them back to a sheltered corner of the tower, stopping to pick up the blanket, but keeping his hold on Quinn's hand. "Here. It's out of the wind. You can sit on the blanket. You should be nice and warm." He helped Quinn settle on the blanket, her back against the curved stone walls of the turret, folding her cloak over her bare legs. He started to stand then, but Quinn tugged his hand.

"Aren't you going to sit down with me?" she asked, patting the wool with her free hand. "There's plenty of room."

"No, Princess. It wouldn't be proper."

"Proper? Nothing about these evenings has been 'proper'. You're my friend, Jerome, and I'd really like for you to sit with me."

"Very well, Quinn. But just for tonight. We cannot do this once you return to your father's castle." Jerome sat stiffly on the edge of the blanket as far away from Quinn as he could manage.

"You could sit a bit closer."

"No, Quinn," Jerome said softly, "I don't think I can."

"Oh," said Quinn. "Well, then," she continued, "I've got some ..." Quinn began as she leaned across Jerome to tug at the handle of her worn leather satchel. Her legs became entangled in the folds of her cloak and she tumbled into Jerome's lap.

"Quinn," Jerome said ever so slowly and quietly. "What are you doing?" His eyes were drawn to the sight of Quinn's legs, bared past her knees and just inches from his hand. The hand he raised and then stilled, a hair's breadth from actually touching her skin.

Quinn's voice was barely audible as she replied. "I had some apples in my satchel. I wanted to share them with you."

"Ah. The same ones you climbed the tree for, I suppose. Here," he said, tugging the arm holding the satchel away from him and back to her place beside him on the blanket. "Better?"

"Yes, thank you," she replied, moving a little closer to him and pulling two apples from the satchel. "One for you and one for me," she said. Quinn handed the larger of the two apples to Jerome and kept the smaller one for herself. "Oh," she said, holding her apple to the moonlight and then tossing it aside. "There are worms all over mine. Oh, well. I wasn't really hungry." The grumbling from her stomach showed this for the lie it was.

"Not hungry, Quinn? I could have heard your stomach demanding that apple from across the castle. Here. Take mine." He handed his apple to Quinn.

"We could share." Quinn suggested.

"But I have no knife to slice it with," Jerome said.

"Jerome, we're friends. We can take turns taking a bite." She took a small bite of the apple and handed it to Jerome.

Jerome took the apple, his mouth watering, not from the scent of the ripe, red apple, but from the sight of her lips, glistening with apple juice in the moonlight. Jerome sighed to himself and carefully turned the apple away from the place her mouth had touched and bit into the fruit. He put the apple back into Quinn's outstretched fingers.

Quinn, who had watched Jerome shyly as he bit, turned the apple until the place where he had bitten into the apple, was clearly visible and put her mouth right there, imagining for just a moment that she could feel the imprint of his mouth on hers.

Jerome watched as Quinn licked the last drops of sweet apple juice from her fingertips. He lingered on the sight for much longer than he should have, mesmerized by the sight of her tongue sliding from between her teeth. He reluctantly pulled his gaze from her fingers. He cleared his throat, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Another dance, Princess?" he asked.

Quinn listened for a moment. "I don't hear any music. I'm rather tired, too. Perhaps we should sit this one out." Quinn yawned, her head drooping onto Jerome's shoulder.

"Sorry," Quinn said, sitting back up. "I'm just so sleepy all of a sudden."

"It is fine, Quinn. Please." Jerome patted his shoulder. "We're both tired and I have a feeling we're going to be here until morning." Jerome surveyed the night sky. "That's a few hours from now. We might as well both sleep until then."

Quinn put her head back on his shoulder and sighed. "This is so nice." I want to stay here forever, she thought. She yawned once again and closed her eyes.

The night was still and quiet around them. She snuggled closer to him. Her cloak slid from her bare legs and Jerome smiled when he recognized her attire as one of his tunics. The one the washer woman swore he'd lost. He straightened her cloak and gathered the blanket more securely around them. He brushed the hair from Quinn's cheek, rested his head against the smooth stones of the wall and closed his eyes.

Quinn did not sleep, but listened to the sound of his breathing, his heartbeat. Her breathing, her heartbeat gradually changed until they matched his. She felt his lips, very soft and tentative, brushing her cheek. Quinn turned her face to his, anticipating his kiss at long last.

"Wake up, sleepyhead. It's almost dawn. I think we should try that door again." Jerome's voice broke the silence.No, not silence, Quinn thought. She could hear the song of early morning birds far off in the distance.

"Jerome," Quinn said, stretching and yawning. "I was having the most wonderful dream."

"Sh! Later, Quinn. I think I heard the door opening. We need to get moving before it closes again."

Jerome stood and helped Quinn to her feet. They folded the blanket and tucked it into Quinn's satchel. Jerome took the leather bag from her.

"I can carry it, you know," she protested.

"Yes, I know. But you don't have to," he replied.

They walked over to the door which was now standing open. Quinn and Jerome made their way carefully and quietly down the stairs and through the ballroom, not wanting to break the silence of the castle. They encountered several of her sisters coming out of various rooms adjoining the ballroom.

The sisters talked to their escorts in low tones as they made their way down to the pier. Quinn could hear the murmur of voices, but couldn't hear what was being said. She found Danielle waiting in her boat along with the boatman. Jerome handed the satchel to him and helped Quinn step into the boat. When Quinn was seated, the boatman poled the boat away from the dock.

"Wait for Jerome!" Quinn cried, rising from her seat on the slowly moving boat. Danielle grabbed her hand and pulled her back down.

"It is fine, Princess. I'll make my way back to your father's castle." Jerome smiled at Quinn. "Oh, and Princess..." he called.

"Yes, Jerome?" Quinn asked.

"It was wonderful, Quinn, but it wasn't a dream."