Carmen Ferreiro-Esteban - Two Moon Princess

“Accept this rose, Princess, as a token of my love. Keep it always by your side and I will be with you forever, because it is my own bleeding heart you are holding in your hands.”

He waited for a moment as Rosa accepted his offering. Then he bent and kissed her on the lips. Rosa didn’t resist.

“The lady is his,” Don Alfonso whispered to himself.

For what seemed to me a long time, Rosa and her lover remained together, looking into each other’s eyes, whispering impossible promises of eternal love. Finally, when my legs were so numb I thought they had turned to stone, Don Julián rose. “It is getting cold, my love,” he said gently, as if talking to a child. “Let’s go inside. I would never pardon myself if you were to become ill.”

His hands around her waist, he motioned her toward the castle.

“What a great performance,” Don Alfonso said with a smile after Rosa and her lover had returned to the Hall.

“From what I have seen, Sir,” I replied, annoyed at his selfcomplacency, “your brother doesn’t need your help.”

“Of course he does, my dear lady. Of course he does. What you have seen here was just lesson number one:‘Wrap the lady with words of praise and, before she has time to react, make her yours.’”

Don Alfonso seemed unaware that revealing his tactics of conquest to me was awkward at best. After all, I was a princess, too, if only in name, and Rosa was my sister. Although a part of me rejoiced that somebody had made a fool of Rosa, another part felt insulted by Don Julián’s technical approach to winning her love.

Don Alfonso gasped. “What an adorable lady!” he said, his voice trailing off as if he were at a sudden loss for words.

I looked up, surprised at this dramatic change, but saw only my sister Margarida standing by one of the windows. The mysterious lady who had so impressed the prince was gone.

“And now, my fair lady,” Don Alfonso said, back to his normal chatty self, “we must part. The Goddess of Love has called, and I, her humble servant, must obey.”

After bending before me in an exaggerated bow, he jumped swiftly onto the balcony and disappeared behind the doors his brother had left open for him.

Through the windows, I could see the dancing couples swirling like rainbows in perfect synchrony across the ballroom floor. The whole palace seemed to be lost in a happy dream from which I was the only one excluded. Not that I cared. Actually, if this glimpse into the adult world was in any way accurate, I, Andrea de Montemaior, was in no hurry to grow up.

I squatted against the tree, relieved to be alone. But I could not rest. Disturbing images kept playing in my mind: the image of a king looking for the knowledge of an ancient race; the image of my sister Rosa falling under the spell of her cunning lover’s words; and, above all, the image of Tío Ramiro as I had seen him the evening of my frustrated escapade, coming through a broken rock down at the Cove of the Dead.

Could Don Alfonso be right? Could the arch really open into another world? Feeling suddenly cold, I reached for the jacket I had wrapped around my shoulders.

As I touched my uncle’s jacket, I remembered the unusual words written on the front. Then I remembered the blade that had vanished in Tío’s hands, which he had so insistently urged me to forget. I remembered all the mysterious gifts he used to bring me when I was a child. I remembered his strange accent and the secrecy surrounding the location of his manor. And as the idea that Tío Ramiro was from another world sunk into me as certitude, I climbed to my feet. I had to go back to the cove. I had to see for myself whether the arch was really a door.

I was already halfway down the tree when I remembered I had sworn to my uncle I would never go there. But my indecision didn’t last long. To break a promise that Tío had extorted from me under false pretenses seemed a small price to pay for the possibility of finding a new world. Besides, I had no choice. I couldn’t go back to the castle and pretend to be a lady. What was there for me but to wait for some prince to woo me with lies into marriage? Not a cheerful thought. My world seemed too narrow, too hopelessly confining. Perhaps Tío Ramiro’s offered a better alternative for me.

The ocean had already cut the sun in half when I reached the ledge overlooking the Cove of the Dead. The thorn bush that had saved my life was still there at the end of the broken trail, and down at the cove, the arch, like the remnant of a dwelling carved in solid rock by ancient giants, loomed majestically over the sand.

Trying not to think of my previous mishap, I bent over the cliffs, looking for a path. I knew it had to be there—after all, I had heard Tío Ramiro climbing while I was trying to disentangle my dress from the thorns—but I searched in vain.

I was about to give up when I saw crude steps carved in the rock cleverly hidden behind a bush. My back to the ocean to avoid looking down and being pulled into the void, I started my descent.

When I finally reached the sand, my heart was beating so furiously against my chest I had to lean against the cliffs and rest for a moment. Then, followed by the piercing cries of the seagulls, I dashed toward the arch along the stretch of land covered by dead algae and broken shells the tide had just started to reclaim.

It was cold under the arch, cold and damp, and the air was filled with strange groans and whispers. It took me a moment—a long frightening moment—to understand that the noises did not come from living beings, but from the water dripping between hidden cracks in the rock.

Trying to laugh away my fears, I crossed the cave formed by the arch and stepped outside into the unknown. But the same cove and the same cliffs still surrounded me. High above, Athos the golden moon stared at me unblinkingly from the same sky. I was still in my own world!

I kicked the arch in frustration. Pain shot through my leg, but the rocks remained. Not ready to give up, I dashed back inside and examined the cave, looking for an opening that could be a passage into the other world. But I couldn’t find any, and although I pushed all the bumps I found on the rocks, no hidden door opened.

Defeated, I collapsed on a small ledge that ran along the back of the cave. My mind empty of thought, I watched the waves break against the arch and, after turning into swirls of white foam, flood the cave. Soon the water reached my knees. I knew I must leave if I didn’t want to get trapped inside, but a strange lassitude overcame my limbs and prevented me from moving.

Suddenly a tremor shook the arch. For a moment the rocks, the water, and even the air seemed to melt away as if caught in a blaze. Then, as quickly as it had come, the quivering left, and the cave resumed its former shape. But not quite. Something was wrong. I strained my eyes and looked around until it hit me. It was darker now, and the water—the water was gone! I jumped to my feet in alarm and ran to the opening.

It was also dark outside the cave, darker than it had been only moments ago. And when I looked up, my heart jumped inside my chest—the sky was just an empty extension of bluetainted purple over the ocean, and Athos the golden moon was gone. And the cove was gone, too. Instead, a white sandy beach stretched itself along the ocean for as far as I could see. Further inland, over the dunes that had replaced the cliffs, a full moon was rising. It was a foreign moon, small and pale.

Don Alfonso was right , I thought in awe. I really am in another world!

Something hard hit me on the back, and as I fell to the sand, I heard footsteps closing in on me. Before I could react, a strong hand grabbed mine and was helping me up. A deep baritone voice was speaking in words I couldn’t understand. Instinctively I reached for my arrow. Then froze. A tall boy with very short hair was staring at me. His completely shaved face wore the most disarming smile.