A Tale of Fur and Flesh by Unknown Read Free Book Online Page A

mantle.  There was security in
knowing others could look her straight in the face and not see her at all.  She
was shielded, guarded, protected by the cloak.  Those who sought to harm young
women could not harm her; they knew not a woman resided within the layers of
fur.  They saw only the beast.
    But, was it not safe where she endeavoured to go? 
The king of her own castle—her father, no less—was a diseased old man, but the
Northern king was said to be gentle and kind.  Seeing these dresses of mother’s
once again, Lally was overcome with the ebullient desire to bring her full
beauty to light.  Were her golden hair and lovely features not also gifts from
her devoted mother?  And the long-forgotten lessons in humility and grace?
    Princess Lally removed the wolf’s head and cast off
her heavy mantle of furs.  The night air shocked her bare arms.  It had been so
very long since she had removed the pelts.  In a small pot of water, she bathed
her skin and washed the soot from her hands.
    From the hip of her tattered skirts, she untied the
knife with which Snake was slain.  Poor creature.  All that remained of him
were the boots Lally wore for want of other shoes, and the bustier she peeled
from her breasts.  Snake’s skin left an embossed impression on her flesh. 
Dropping her blackened skirts to the floor, she selected the dress which shone
like the sun.  In this gown of her mother’s, Lally was a monarch again.
    Bubbling with pride, Lally bolted up the kitchen
steps and into a corridor of the Palace.  It was nothing like the stone castle
of her childhood.  The floors gleamed.  The stone had been polished smooth. 
The corridor was not dreary grey, but warm like the colour of butter. 
Following the sound of laughing voices, Lally arrived at the entrance to the
main hall.  The dining had finished and all inside were dancing.
    When she entered the place of the king’s feast, the
guests made way.  She recognized their expressions of awe.  Never had they seen
a dress so gold as sunlight.  All guests gazed upon her, the stranger in their
land.  Two eyes to each head.  Lally’s heart pounded in her chest.  It had been
so many months since anyone had looked upon her face. If only she had her
protective mantle.  She wished to flee to the safety of the subterranean
kitchen, but mother’s dress propelled her through the crowds.  It held her firmly
in place before the king.
    She admired the striking king the moment she saw
him.  The rumours of his handsomeness did not do him justice.  Though an aura
of wisdom hung about his noble head, he appeared far too young to rule a
kingdom.  His eyes were warm brown, and his skin was the colour of cocoa.  The
lines of his jaw were strong and square, and his hair was black, and tightly
curled against his scalp.  Lally imagined herself pressing her mouth against
his full pink lips.  Bowing her head, she smiled.
    The king took no notice of Lally.  He was rapt in a
discussion of philosophy.  She hoped he would glance in her direction, but also
dreaded the moment his wise eyes beheld her.  He might not see in her what she
saw in him: a perfect partner.  Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he turned his
head in her direction.  She stood tall, shining like the summer sun.  When he
cast his gaze over her, all other eyes disappeared.  The room was empty but for
Lally and the handsome king.  For months, she’d helped Cook prepare this man’s
meals, and he had no idea who she was.  What would he say if he knew she lived
in the cabinet of the cellar-kitchen, plucking foul and raking ashes, disguised
under layers of peltry?
    “Why, hello,” the king said to Lally.  His deep voice
might have been frightening if it weren’t so jovial.  She wheezed, nodding in
response.  Her throat constricted.  She felt as though she were breathing
through a reed.  The king extended his hand.  When she grasped it, warmth
enveloped her.  “I’m King Aelwyn,” he