Born to Rule

Berwynna! “And then, when every stitch is sewn, evil’s work is o’erthrown.”
    There was a sudden rattling at the shutters. A cold draft swept through the chamber.
    The weeb began to carol! His silvery notes filled the room.
    Alicia was out of bed in a flash. “You sang! You sang!”
    “That was not a song. It was a cry for help,” a voice whispered. The voice seemed to come from the grate in the fireplace, where the coals still glowed. As another gust of wind pushed open the shutter, a shiver went up Alicia’s spine.
    “Who’s there?” Alicia called. A swirl of snow blew down from the chimney. She was shaking so hard that her teeth chattered, but she forced herself to ask again, “Who’s there, I say? Who needs help? The weeb?”
    There was a hiss and a small puff of smoke and ash from the fireplace. The swirl of snow had been sucked into the fire, striking the coals, which were now sputtering.
    Alicia ran to get the bellows to breathe life into the flames. It would be a cold morning if the coals in the fire went dead. She had seen Gilly pump the bellows. It didn’t look hard. She crouched down and began pumping. The coals started to glow orange again. She pumped harder. A tiny flame began to flicker.
    Then the shutters swung wide open and immense gusts of snow swept into her bedchamber.
    The fire in the grate leaped up to meet the gusts. For a few brief seconds, snow and flames seemed to join in an odd dance. And then it was over.
    A figure stepped out of the fire. It was a beautiful lady! Her dress hung like dim amber flames. Wisps of shimmering hair escaped from an old-fashioned headpiece, the medieval kind that was called a coif. On top of the coif was a small crown, a coronet. Alicia knew that only ruling princesses wore coronets! The coronet seemed to be made of snowflakes.
    Now, at last, the weeb burst into a song of pure joy, and the strange princess smiled.
    Alicia took a step closer to the princess, who quivered like a candle flame in the breeze. “Who are you?” Alicia whispered. “Are you a ghost?”
    The woman nodded.
    “Are you my destiny?” Alicia asked, remembering Berwynna’s words. “Are you the spirit that must be put to rest?”
    “We must both be put to rest, me and my love, too,” the ghost princess said.
    “Him? Who? How?” Alicia was completely confused.
    “How, my dear? The tapestry is how you shall do it. The stitches left undone must be stitched, and then a spell will be broken.”
    “But how will I know what to stitch?”
    “You shall know,” the ghost princess said. “Follow me.” She tipped her head toward the door of Alicia’s chamber.
    Alicia felt as if she were walking behind a fine mist shaped like a lovely lady. She could see right through to the stone walls of the castle. The ghost princess’s dress gave off a strange light that lit the darkened passageway. They needed no candles.
    As Alicia and the ghost princess wound their way through the corridors to the Portrait Gallery, the castle’s great clock began to sound the hour. It was midnight. “Between the seconds of midnight’s chimes,” Alicia thought with excitement. She dared not steal a glance at her mother’s portrait. The queen might disapprove, but Alicia had to go. This ghost was somehow connected with the weeb. Alicia was sure of that. But how? The princess might be a ghost, but she was the ghost of a princess and not the ghost of a female weeb.
    They stopped in front of a portrait of a young princess. “This is you!” Alicia exclaimed.
    “Yes, I was here as a girl, and later I returned.”
    Alicia put her hand on the corner of the frame. The portrait swung out from the wall, revealing a door. The ghost princess opened the door and appeared to float up a winding staircase. Alicia followed step by step.
    The staircase seemed to spiral upward forever. When they reached the top, they were directly under the cone-shaped roof of the turret.
    “I never knew this turret existed,” Alicia said.
    “It is a long-forgotten one. It was used as a storeroom when I was the needlework counselor here.”
    Alicia stopped. “You were a needlework counselor?”
    The ghost princess turned on the stairs and nodded.
    “You are the princess with the broken heart who took refuge here.” Again the ghost princess nodded. “And this is the unfinished tapestry that you are taking me to, isn’t it?” For a third time, the ghost princess nodded. Then she spoke.
    “I am the Forgotten Princess that