East

White Bear

AT LAST THE DANCING was done. I was so tired, my cheeks stiff from smiling at all those faces I did not know. I could not wait to leave and go to my bed.

My queen was well pleased with the evening. And even with all she had to do, was ever thoughtful of my comfort. When she saw how tired I was, she sent me off to bed, with Tuki attending. She said she would look in on me before going to sleep herself but that I needn't wait up for her, as she had to look after her guests. Before I left her my queen asked me about the troll girl in the moon dress. I told her she did not dance well but was pleasant. I did not tell my queen of the girl's odd behavior, of her voice and the language she spoke, and of the ring she thrust on me. And that she seemed to be wearing some kind of mask. I don't know why I did not speak of those things, except that I thought it might displease my queen in some way and the girl might be punished. I do not think the girl meant any harm.

Before getting into my nightclothes, I took the ring out and gazed at it. Why did it look familiar and yet not familiar? It made no sense. I placed the ring on my finger. It fit. Perhaps I had been wrong and it was mine, from long ago. And yet why would a troll girl I did not know have it? Or was she a troll? Her voice, and the mask ... But I was too tired to think any longer.

I took the ring off and placed it in a drawer. My queen would know the answer. I would ask her in the morning, without telling her where I had gotten it.

Tuki brought my slank as usual. Then he, too, asked me about the girl in the moon dress. I repeated what I had told my queen and thought I saw a look of disappointment cross his face. I believe he wanted to talk more, but I was too exhausted. I told him to leave. I did not even care that his eyes looked bright with unshed tears at the shortness of my tone. I was so tired.

My bed felt inviting and I fell swiftly into a deep sleep.

I dreamed of the girl in the moon dress. We were dancing and I could not take my eyes from her eyes. Purple, like fleur-de-lis ... In truth, I had barely noticed the troll girl's eyes while I danced with her, but in the dream they were bright and dark and full of some kind of feeling I could not put a name to. As we danced I felt happy, happier than I had ever thought possible. It was a different kind of dancing, too, flowing, moving in wide circles, my hands at her waist. I did not want the dance to end.

Then I looked down at my chest, and I was no longer sporting the handsome jacket I had been wearing that evening but instead a soft white shirt. I noticed there was a stain on the front of it and I was embarrassed, thinking I had spilled on myself during the banquet. I thought I would make an excuse so that I could go and change my shirt, but when I looked up into the girl's face to tell her I must stop dancing, I saw an unspeakable sadness in those dark eyes.

And then I woke up. There were tears on my face.

Absently I brushed at the wetness with my hand, and suddenly, out of nowhere, I remembered the shirt I had been wearing when I first came to the ice palace. In a daze I rose and crossed to my chest of drawers. At the back of the bottom drawer was a white shirt. It had a silver brooch of a flauto at the neck, and as I shook the shirt out, I saw that it had a stain on the front.

In wonderment I placed my finger on the stain. It was hard. Like dried tallow. My thoughts heaved. Suddenly I saw the girl, the girl in the moon dress, only her face was different. She was leaning over me, in a small golden circle of light. Then I felt a pain, a burning on my skin. But that was all; I could remember no more. I let out a groan, pressing my face into the white shirt. It smelt of soap and candle wax.

There was a light knock at the door to my room.

"Yes?" I said, quickly stuffing the shirt back into the drawer.

My queen entered. "You are still awake?" she said, curious.

"I was just a little restless," I replied.

"Have you had a nightmare?" she asked.

"No," I said evenly, thinking of the happiness in the dream. No, it was not a nightmare.

"Some slank will help you rest," she said, making a move toward the door.

"No, thank you," I said. "I had it earlier. I am fine."

"Very well." She crossed to me then and looked into my eyes. I kept my thoughts concentrated on her, on her beauty, her goodness to me, my queen who in a day would be my wife.

We embraced. And then she left the room.

I reopened the chest of drawers. I took out the white shirt, crossed to my flauto case, opened it, and wrapped the instrument in the soft white fabric of the shirt. Then I closed the case and returned to my bed.