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  This song made my insides turn to mush as I looked into his eyes. During the third or fourth time through,–I’d lost count–he set aside his lute while he kept singing and took mine from me as well. He pulled me into his arms and began to sway in a dance, just like the first time we’d come here. Only this time, he sang to me. I thought I’d melt on the spot. That one song seemed to be written just for this moment. For me. For us. I didn’t think anyone watching would miss the currents between us, like the electromagnetic pulses that had struck the very ruins on which we swayed together. Maybe there was something about this place.

  Long after he finished singing, we continued to sway, wrapped in each other’s arms, neither of us wanting to let the moment end.

  He moved back enough to look down at my face and asked, “Do you remember when we stood skimming stones across the river?”

  “Yes,” I nodded. Of course, I remembered it. I remembered every moment we’d spent together like an album of Instagram photos. If only.

  “You told me a story then, about a princess and a toad.”

  “I remember,” I chuckled softly. “And I told you to watch out for beautiful women who might really be ugly witches.”

  “I know you’re not a witch,” he started, “but thanks all the same for the warning.” He hesitated before adding. “I did want to ask however…”

  “What?” I encouraged him, as he seemed to hesitate once again. “You know you can ask me anything.” Or almost anything...

  “Well, what I wanted to know was,”–he cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed about what he was about to say, which intrigued me even more–“I mean, I just wondered–am I your toad?”

  My heart pounded in my chest. I didn’t know if I could actually love anyone more than I loved him at this moment. I knew I was young and I wasn’t supposed to know what love is. But if this wasn’t it, I don’t think I’d ever find it. I took his face in my hands, caressing his stubble that I loved so much.

  “I don’t know,” I teased, smiling. “Let me see.” His blue eyes bore into mine. Even in the dim light I could feel the heat in them. I reached up, and brought his face down to mine until my lips met his. Instinctively, he pulled me closer, wrapping both his arms around my back. Our kiss was slow and deliberate. I closed my eyes, wanting to remember the taste of him, the feel of his mouth against mine. His scent was better than any cologne. It was the outdoors, the faint scent of horses, and everything about the 16th century that was wonderful. It was all him. I deepened the kiss, He followed, letting me take the lead. My heart pounded in my chest. I felt his echoing mine, beating just as rapidly. His hands skimmed up and down my sides and in circles on my back. His fingers whispered across my bare skin at my nape as he moved my hair to the side and led a trail of kisses down my neck, sending shivers down my spine. His mouth came back to mine. After a moment, we broke away.

  I finally answered him, heart still pounding. “I believe I have kissed my very last toad. You are, and forever will be, my one true prince.”

  “Izzy!” I shook my head from the trance of remembering the night before and thoughts of Charles. Nicole’s voice finally broke through. Turning, I saw her walking out toward me, waving her arms.

  “Yes?” I answered as I got up and brushed the bits of leaves and dirt from my day dress.

  “I thought you were in need of the salts, I have been calling your name and became worried when you didn’t respond.” she cried as she caught up to me, worry in her voice.

  “No, no,” I assured her. “I’m fine. My thoughts were elsewhere. I’m sorry I didn’t hear you.”

  “Are you sure you are alright?” she asked, looking me over.

  “Yes, of course I am. I didn’t get much sleep I suppose.”

  “Well, there’s no time to worry about that now,” she professed., She grabbed my hand and turned me back toward the door. “Madame Odette is here for the final fittings of our costuming. Wait until you see!” she added excitedly. We picked up our pace and ran through the kitchen doors to the music room where the Madame had set up shop with her ladies.

  “Ah, here she ees!” she exclaimed when she saw me, hands outstretched. She came toward me to plant two big air kisses on either side of my face. I smiled as I took in her appearance today. She was splendid in pink and chartreuse. How this was a good fashion combo was beyond me, but she seemed to pull it off. She wore all swirling pink silks with different patterns on her dress and a chartreuse headdress, her signature look. A large pink feather stuck out of her headdress and I wondered how in the world she’d been able to find a feather that color in this century. I watched it as she bobbed her head around, leading us into the room to admire her creations for us. The other girls were there, waiting with anticipation on their faces. Madame Odette’s helpers busily unwrapped dresses and placed them about the chairs so we could see.

  For the next hour, we tried on dresses and had Madame’s girls fix hems and finish off each piece. She did not disappoint. Her creations were nothing less than works of art. Weeks before when, she’d come to listen to our ideas, she sat nodding her head and saying, “Oui, oui. Leave it to Madame Odette. You will be perfection.” True to her word, each piece was perfection. I didn’t know how in the world we could do quick costume changes with all the constraints of 16th-century dress. But Madame was truly an artiste. She designed each dress so that they were two dresses in one. After our first number, we would be able to run behind the stage and peel off the top layer of the first dress to reveal another completely different one that would work with our second song. We stood around looking at each other in our dresses, just grinning from ear to ear. We could feel victory hanging in the air. It was sweet.

  “Madame Odette,” I bowed to her as if she were a queen. It was the highest honor I could give, and all the girls followed my lead. “You are truly magical. I do hope you will be at the festival to hear us sing.”

  “I would not miss it,” she assured us. She gave us her air kisses, one by one. I grasped her hand and thanked her profusely. She gathered her entourage and swept from the room as grandly as she had arrived.

  “OK ladies,” I turned and looked at us all in our amazing costumes, “Let’s see if we can move in these dresses.” Thus began our final dress rehearsal.

  Chapter 21

  This was it. My heart leapt to my throat. Could I go through with it? I stood on the competition stage, the one I’d directed the king’s builders to make. It was beautifully constructed with wood. The edges were draped with fabric in the king’s colors. Looking out over the waves of people crowding around us, I felt like I was standing in Madison Square Garden….or on the hangman’s gallows. Maybe it was a mixture of both. On this night, life and death seemed to hang in the balance. The royal family was up on a dais, across from the stage, on the opposite end of the arena. I caught the prince’s eye. Again I thought , could I go through it? For if all went as planned tonight, I’d win the prince’s hand in marriage and lose it all in one fell swoop. Because tonight, finally, I was going home. And none too soon. I thought.

  My life was definitely in danger. Just the night before as Charles and I rode back from our last visit to the ruins, right before reaching the castle grounds, we came upon a tree where a life-size doll was swinging by a noose. The stench of burning hay and silk reached our noses, and the horse shied away. Charles had leaped out of the saddle and led the horse by the reins as we got closer. I gasped in horror when I saw the crudely drawn face, and noticed the dress, which was the one I’d been wearing the day before. Charles managed to cut the horrid thing down and stamp the fire out before it spread anywhere else. Clearly, someone had been following us and was getting bolder. Charles planned to tell his parents, the king and queen, after the festival. But I knew that by then, it wouldn’t matter. I’d be gone.

  I shook my head to concentrate on the task at hand. All the other “contestants” had performed. Their performances were good, exactly what you would think of if you looked at pictures of 1
6th-century musicians, or went to a Renaissance Faire. They mostly sat on a stool in front of the audience and sang songs that told stories of love and war. Some were songs about mythology. The Princess of Spain actually pulled out a real guitar, which I was quite jealous of. Right, the guitar, that’s what you were jealous of. OK, at least that’s what I kept telling myself. Of course, I wasn’t jealous that the princess was beautiful with her thick, gorgeous black hair braided with golden ribbons and pulled over one shoulder as she played.

  “She is off-key, is she not?” Genevieve whispered over my shoulder. I had to stifle a laugh.

  “Oh yes, quite pitchy,” I answered her. Well that was one thing we had in common. We both despised the princess of Spain. I also had no idea what she was singing about since I didn’t speak Spanish. I got words here and there as the language shared the same Latin roots as French and Italian. I knew it was about love, but I didn’t know much more than that.

  “Pathetic.” Nicole slipped up next to me and put her arm around my waist. I turned to smile at her.

  “Come on now. She’s really quite talented.” Nicole made a face, and Genevieve rolled her eyes. Girls. They made me laugh. It would seem that it didn’t matter what century you were from, girls ripping each other apart stood the test of time. The princess finished her song and we all applauded. Well, OK, it was half hearted applause.

  “Are you ready?” I turned to my girls, looking at each one. I could feel their nervous excitement. Grabbing their hands, I hurried to the back of the stage to find the others. Poor Fleur was pacing to and fro, doing deep breathing exercises. I looked at Chantal and Louise. “Is she OK?” I motioned toward Fleur.

  “She has been doing this for about a quarter of an hour now, but I think she’ll come around,” Chantal answered with as much conviction as she could muster.

  “How about you two, you good?” They each nodded. I motioned for all of us to get in a circle together, grasping hands all around. I looked at Fleur first. “You’ve got this Fleur. Don’t even think about it. Remember what I told you about the lights da Vinci made for us? They will make it so that we don’t see anyone else in the audience, so don’t even worry about who is out there.” We had only tested the lights once, but it wasn’t as dark then as it was now. I hoped it wouldn’t throw the girls. I watched as Fleur took one last deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “I am ready,” she nodded. I was surprised at how steady her voice was, and my heart swelled with pride. Oh, how I’ll miss these girls! I felt the excitement tremor through us all.

  “All right,” I encouraged, “Let’s do this!” We let go of each other and pulled up our hoods. We were wearing cloaks over our dresses so no one would see them before the performance.

  “Your water container,” Nicole pointed to the bottle still tied to my waist.

  “Oops, thank you. “ I smiled at her while I untied it, took one last swig of cool water and set it down in the grass. “Remind me it’s here,” I told her. She nodded and gave me the thumbs-up sign. That one always cracked me up and she knew it. We grinned stupidly at each other. Then each grabbed our small torches and lit them. We waited.

  “Next, we are very pleased to introduce the last performance of the festival. We hope you will all enjoy the very talented court musician, Isabelle Blanchet, and the queen’s Ladies-in-Waiting.” The audience began to applaud. That was our cue. I walked up the steps to the stage, the girls following behind. Silently we set the stage, lighting the “fairy lights” with our torches and placing them in their holders.

  Quickly then, we stood in formation: me in front, Nicole, Fleur, and Genevieve directly behind me so we looked like one person. Chantal and Louise sat on hollow barrels near the front of the stage, one on each corner, waiting for my signal. This is possibly the biggest audience I’ve ever performed for, I thought. I tried to shoo that worry from my mind and thought of the words I’d just given Fleur. We’ve got this. People were still oohing and awwing over the twinkle lights we’d just lit above the stage. The candles, in apothecary jars wired to hang from the latticed frame we’d created together, were perfect. This is it, I thought again. I inhaled, and slowly exhaled. Smiling, I nodded my head and winked at Charles. Suddenly, Leonardo’s spotlight hit me center stage.

  Let the games begin.

  I lifted my right foot and started our stomping rhythm, untied the cloak, whipped it off, and handed it back to Nicole. The others in line joined the rhythm, all stomping our legs as one. Chantal and Louise pounded on the empty barrels they sat on, their cloaks in a puddle behind them. As soon as the rest of the cloaks were handed back and Genevieve threw them to the back of the stage, those of us in the line added hand claps. The rhythm was primitive and wonderful. I had to smile at the faces I could see past da Vinci’s spotlight. They were astonished when they saw my dress. It was an elaborate and wonderful thing, with black and orange folds of fabric creating the illusion of a tiger print. I waited for one more stomp of the foot and then I began to sing. It was “Roar” by Katy Perry. And we were in a ferocious mood.

  I belted the first verse while the girls behind me came forward and took up their places across the stage. More spotlights hit us, and I silently sent up a thank-you to Leonardo’s servants who actually got the timing right. We kept up the beat with each stomping foot and our clapping hands. We took turns singing lines. Chantal and Louise pounding their empty barrels as if they were part of some remote African tribe. We paused feet stomping, hand clapping, barrel pounding for a split second before hitting the main chorus full force.

  My heart soared as I watched my girls getting into their parts. They were truly loving it. I wondered what Katy Perry would say if she could see this now. I think she would love it. Twenty-first century girl power, 16th-century style! We were triumphant, raising fists in the air to punctuate the words we sang. We moved about the stage, each of us singing our parts, keeping up the rhythm with our hands and feet. Every time we moved, we had to do it while stomping down hard on our right foot. If only I could have recorded this; I really wanted to see it played back. I hoped it looked as great as it felt. We’d gone through the second verse and the chorus projecting the last word as loud as we could. We suddenly stopped our rhythm-making again and crouched down on the stage, like tigers ready to pounce. Only really, we were leading into the key change. We started singing quietly. Chantal and Louise built up the beat on their barrels as we all gradually crescendoed and rose back up with each repetition of the word, roar.

  And...key change! We pounded the rhythm again as we gave everything we had to the ending. We sang the chorus once more while standing in a line across the stage, alternating every other person stepping back and then stepping forward again when the other two went back. I ad libbed above the girls as they kept the chorus going. We were definitely louder than the jungle beasts we sang of, giving it all we had. We had something to prove all right. But mostly, I just wanted these girls to feel the power of the words they were singing, to know they did have choices and didn’t need to be afraid to make the ones that were right for them.

  We stomped one more time and raised our linked hands in the air as we sustained the last note together. I listened as it faded away on the night air. My heart pounded I felt the girls breathing next to me as we waited, hands still in the air. And then it came. The deafening applause. I smiled. I nodded my head to cue the girls. We lowered our clasped hands together and took our bow.

  The applause continued. Dirt rose from the grounds as people stomped their feet. They’d never seen anything like this before. But we weren’t done yet. Letting go of each other’s hands, I motioned for the others to follow me toward the back of the stage. Our light people covered the spots, knowing we’d be back. The audience slowly stopped their clapping, not quite sure what was going on. Quickly, in the shadows behind the stage, we did our miraculous dress change. We unclipped fabric from our bodices and smoothed it down over our skirts. The other side of the fabric shimmered gold. We snatched up purp
le sashes, secured them over our shoulders, and pinned them to our waists. We grabbed the jeweled tiaras Madame Odette had made for us and placed them on our heads. I kept an ear to the crowd to make sure they hadn’t grown too restless waiting for us. It seemed there was still excited murmuring about our first song, and a hint of anticipation. I looked at each girl to see if she was ready.

  “Take a quick sip of ale,” I told them, gesturing to the table I had asked for. I knew they’d be thirsty in between songs. I noticed that someone had put my water bottle on the table too. I was glad I didn’t have to go searching for it in the grass. I grabbed it and took another gulp of cold water. “Ready?” I whispered. They nodded and followed me onstage again.

  This time, we all started snapping our fingers as we walked across the stage. For this song, in place of one of the barrels Fleur held her bass in the front right corner of the stage. Louise brought up the rear and returned to sit on the barrel to the left, this time holding her handmade bongos in her lap. We continued snapping until the rest of us stood spaced out across the stage and we had captured the audience’s attention. When it was quiet, we stopped. Right on time, a spotlight hit me center stage. I sang the first line of “Royals” by Lorde. Then Louise came in with her bongo, and we began to snap in unison again. Snap. Snap. Snap.

  I tried changing the modern words in the song, but in the end, I thought, did it really matter? I taught it to the girls in English. They attributed the strangeness of the words to that country they already thought poorly of. We all sang harmony for the second verse, and Fleur came in quietly with the background bass.

  Singing about motor cars and expensive hotels in the 16th century made me want to break out in laughter. Really, we were singing this song for me. Because, the thought of me ever being part of a royal court was ridiculous. A 21st-century girl? Yeah, I didn’t think so, even if I did “win” the prince’s hand in marriage. As Fleur had suggested, I saw now that this was all just a ruse for the king, who really didn’t want to give his son to Spain. I respected him more after I figured that out. And I knew that he needed us to perform like no other. So we did.