Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries (Emily Wilde, #1)(94)
Eventually, the serving girl snuck out into the woods where an old witch lived and begged for help. In exchange for one of the pomaded chickens, the witch informed her that the serving girl’s curse originated in the royal family with the youngest prince, and that only he could undo it.
Fortunately, the serving girl knew the queen and all her children were due to pay a visit to the queen’s sister soon. The night before their arrival, the serving girl took her shabbiest dress, freshly stained with kitchen grease, and tore it to shreds, which she scattered over the floor.
When the serving girl awoke in the morning, she found in place of her old dress the loveliest and most eccentric gown imaginable. It was quite clear that the oíche sidhe were indeed going mad, for the dress was at odds with itself, one moment deciding to be murky pond green and the next ocean blue or harvest brown. It was festooned with baubles and ribbons like a Christmas tree, including a crystal that showed flashes of strangers’ futures and a live hedgehog, which with its tiny claws climbed from pocket to pocket as the mood took it (the dress had an infinite number of pockets).
Dubious, the girl donned the dress and went downstairs. The castle was full of royal attendants and various hangers-on, all bustling about importantly, and in her ridiculous dress, everyone assumed she was a relation of the duchess. She asked one of the ladies’ maids where the youngest prince could be found, and she was told: in the garden.
She found the prince wandering the garden with a displeased look on his face, for those whose blood is half Folk and half mortal exist in a state of perpetual displeasure—the typical games of the Folk leave them perplexed, while they find mortal pursuits dull. In truth, the prince was only scheming to obtain the throne for want of anything better to do with himself.
The prince took one look at the serving girl and fell instantly in love with her, just as she’d hoped. Most young men fell instantly in love with her when she was not dressed in rags and covered in stains, as the serving girl was beautiful, with black eyes, pale golden hair, and skin of a darker gold, a strange but irresistible combination. The duchess was furious when the prince expressed his intention to marry her cherished serving girl, but she could not very well gainsay the queen’s favourite son.
On her wedding day, the serving girl was elated. Once they were wed, she planned to order the prince to undo her curse—if he did not, as her husband he would have to share it and endure a life of mess and disorder. She was certain that the curse that had plagued every season of her life was soon to be broken.
In a way, the serving girl was right. The oíche sidhe fashioned her a magnificent wedding gown—though it was also rather lunatic, having not one but eight hedgehogs roaming the pockets, as well as a bodice that was a portal to Faerie if turned inside out and a train with a ghost hiding in it who disrupted the service with bursts of cackling. At the banquet after their nuptials, the serving girl naturally managed to spill the entire contents of a gravy boat upon herself, and it was the sight of their finest handiwork in ruins that finally broke the oíche sidhe. They swarmed out into plain view as the oíche sidhe never do normally, halfling men and women the colour of dust, and began walloping the serving girl with their faerie mops. No one and nothing could stop them, and the wedding guests began to fear that their new princess would be beaten to death. Whenever the prince tried to pull his bride to safety, the hedgehogs would bite him. Golden feathers began to fly through the air, and the wedding guests could not at first make sense of it. The oíche sidhe kept whacking and whacking until the serving girl split apart like an overripe plum and became what she had been long ago, though neither she nor the mother who raised her had guessed it—a golden raven, one of the three enchanted birds that the prince had released to bring strife to the kingdom.
The serving girl flitted out the window, free at last, while the oíche sidhe dusted their hands and went smilingly back into hiding. They stopped pomading chickens and turning pyjamas into evening wear, which was ultimately a relief to the duchess, who had been down to her last nightgown.
As for the prince, the serving girl’s disappearance finally gave him a purpose in life. He retreated to the wilderness to learn magic from witches and any Folk who would teach him. Eventually he succeeded in turning himself into a raven, whereupon he flew off in search of his beloved. In the northeast of Ireland it is said that he is still searching for his golden bride to this day, and that if you listen closely, you can hear her name in the croaking of the ravens.
The story of Emily Wilde and Wendell Bambleby will continue in Book 2.
Acknowledgments
A huge thank-you to my brilliant editor, Tricia Narwani, and my wonderful agent, Brianne Johnson, as well as the entire team at Del Rey. Thank you to Nadia Saward and Orbit, Soumeya Bendimerad Roberts and everyone at HG Literary, Anissa at FairyLoot, Jenny Medford, Mandy Johnson, Bree Gary, and Becky Maines.
Thank you to the amazing professionals I have worked with and learned from both past and present, including Alexandra Levick, Jessica Berger, and the team at Writers House, Kristin Rens, and Lauri Hornik. Thank you to my friends and family for their support.
And finally, thank you, reader, for picking this story up. I hope you’ve enjoyed the journey.