The Secret of the Seven Princesses
Sanctum Chapter 4

A hush fell over the princesses as they filed into the room. They gathered in a tense cluster near the door, though there was plenty of space in which to spread out. The mahogany door had opened to a room of such splendor and span that Callia was rendered momentarily speechless. Her imagination—which had already been working overtime in memorizing the description of the stone tunnel—threatened to burst as she attempted to catalog the new details to add to her journal in the morning.

The princesses' chamber could fit easily within the room, along with the throne room, the royal dining room, and perhaps a broom closet nestled in the corner. Magic seemed to hang in the very air from the moment the first princess stepped onto the plush, off-white carpeting. Callia felt it in her very bones as it wiped away the last vestiges of her fatigue, leaving her as energized as if it were mid-afternoon instead of after midnight. Flames burst into being from the immense golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Thin tapered candles were also spaced around the walls, held by golden sconces to provide further illumination for their observation.

Three of the walls were covered in a light lilac fabric that—when Callia drew near enough to touch—turned out to be soft velvet; it shimmered and shone from the effects of the many sources of candlelight. She had never felt anything as soft as the velvet that covered the walls, nor had she ever stepped on any carpet as thick as the one beneath her feet. A dozen purple armchairs stood in a corner, adding to the hominess. It was as if the decorator of this room knew exactly what elements were needed to create a comfortable, yet elegant atmosphere.

Nine different doors, including the one the princesses had entered, stood at intervals around the lilac-colored walls. They were all carved from the same dark mahogany, matching the wooden trim around the bottom of the walls. The wall directly across from the entrance featured a colorful sunset landscape over a platform raised about four feet off the ground.

Her sisters had long since spread out to examine the chamber more closely. Eurielle dashed in and out of the doors along the walls, exclaiming at the top of her lungs to absolutely nobody that seven of them led to medium-sized rooms, while the eighth was blocked by a cave-in. Thaleia practiced falling off of the raised platform. Petra was examining one of the golden sconces, feeling around its base for any sign of weakness. Eralie sat in one of the purple armchairs while Cliodne felt along the velvet wall behind her. Raia stood at the opposite end of the room, admiring the walled landscape.

Callia simply remained where she stood near the doorway, allowing her sisters' excited voices to fade into the background. For a moment, she became lost in admiration of her surroundings, in the play of light off the walls and the beauty of the chandelier. She could tell that it would take several pages in her journal to adequately describe the room before her.

"Girls! Come over here!" Raia's voice finally broke through Callia's reverie. Oddly enough, her voice failed to echo around the cavernous chamber; Callia suspected that the magic hanging in the air absorbed the sound.

Raia excitedly beckoned them over to the colorful fourth wall. Callia could understand her sister's fascination with the beautiful landscape; it was almost like looking out a window onto a vibrant seaside sunset.

The remaining princesses clustered around the platform that Raia stood upon. Callia hefted herself on top to join her sister, taking care not to spill any wax from her diminishing candle. As she approached the landscape, her candle's flame reflected strangely on the wall, and only then did she realize why Raia was so enthralled: the sunset scene was composed of millions of gemstones.

"Wow…" Eralie breathed, approaching on Callia's left to finger the rubied sky.

For the first time since she had entered the room, Callia regained her ability to speak. "This place is amazing," she said. "I've never seen anything like it."

Thaleia spoke up next: "Do you think Father has ever been here?"

"Probably not," said Cliodne logically. "I doubt that he even knows about it. If he had, he never would have allowed us to come here, or even to find it."

The mention of King Gustave caused a momentary pause in the princesses' excitement. They stood in tense silence. Callia ran her hand over the sapphire sea line. She couldn't seem to find the courage to bring up the question that was surely on all of their minds.

Finally, after several awkward moments, Eurielle broke the silence.

"Should we tell Father?"

"No."

Callia was surprised at the rapidity and force in which Eralie answered. She sounded authoritative and commanding, personality traits that Callia hadn't seen since Eurielle had gotten her own chamber maid five years earlier. As soon as her younger sisters were mature enough to care for themselves, the eldest princess had finally been able to drop the responsible persona she'd temporarily adopted after the death of their mother.

Eralie's uncharacteristic leadership seemed to open the door for responses from the remaining princesses. Raia and Thaleia nodded their heads simultaneously like the twins they were. Eurielle couldn't seem to control the smile that broke across her face, and Petra eagerly voiced her opinion: "There can't be any harm in keeping this a secret for just a little while longer, can there?"

As one, six heads turned toward the voice of reason: Princess Cliodne. She seemed to be deep in thought. Callia felt slightly apprehensive upon seeing the look on her older sister's face. On the whole, she agreed with Eralie, as well, but even the majority of the princesses could often be overruled by Cliodne's infuriating yet persuasive logic. Callia held her breath in anticipation of her sister's decision.

"I agree," Cliodne said at last. Callia allowed her smile to grow as Cliodne continued. "I don't see anything dangerous about this place, and I don't think that Father—or anyone else—needs to know. I also have to admit that I'm curious. This is a great mystery, and I really want to figure out what's going on before we tell anyone else. If we tell Father about the trapdoor and this tunnel, he'll just forbid us from coming here again, and then we'll never find out." She punctuated the end of her speech with two quick nods that sent her tawny curls bouncing around her shoulders.

"So we all agree not to tell anyone?" said Callia. She scraped her fingernails excitedly on the mosaic, her hand passing over a sapphire that exactly matched the hue of Eralie's eyes. She could just imagine the stories that could emerge from settings and scenery like the one depicted in the wall mosaic…and if they could continue to return here without detection, so much the better.

"We need to do more than just agree!" Eurielle burst out. "We should make a pact that we will never ever tell!" Callia rolled her eyes at her youngest sister's childishness while Raia said gently: "I don't think that's necessary, dear. None of us are going to tell."

"We should still do it, just to make sure!" said Eurielle insistently. "We'll each promise not to tell a single, solitary soul about the trapdoor…or the passage…or the room. If we do, then the punishment is…" she trailed off uncertainly.

"Death?" Thaleia suggested wryly.

"No...I got it! If anyone tells, then she has to go up to Weston and ask him to pull her finger!" For a long moment, Eurielle was the recipient of some very exasperated and pitying looks.

"That's stupid," said Petra scathingly, causing Eurielle to blush in embarrassment and anger. Callia couldn't help but agree, but had the good grace not to say it aloud.

"It may be stupid!" Eurielle countered hotly. "But tell the truth: would you want to do it?"

She had a point, Callia realized. The idea of playing "Pull My Finger" with her father's tall, stern, no-nonsense butler certainly was a daunting idea. All of the princesses—even daring Thaleia and conscienceless Petra—feared and respected Weston in a way they had never had their father. Though the initial concept was certainly laughable, the execution was likely to be a rather scary and embarrassing prospect.

"Fine," Callia agreed grudgingly. "But let's make this quick; Clio's candle is nearly down to the wick."

Within moments, all seven princesses had repeated the short promise that Eurielle made up on the spot (they simply refused to adhere to her suggestion of making a blood oath). Though Callia would have preferred to stay and explore the chamber more fully, there was no denying that their candles wouldn't last much longer. The lanterns held by Petra, Thaleia, and Eralie would likely endure for another hour, but Callia wasn't keen on the idea of traveling down that long dark tunnel with only three sources of light.

With one last long, lingering look at the room's splendor, she followed Eurielle out of the room, the last to exit. The instant her foot left the off-white carpeting of the chamber, the chandelier and the wall sconces darkened, leaving nothing but a gaping hole of blackness. Callia shivered. She pushed the door shut with a snap, then hurried to join her sisters in their procession down the stone tunnel.

As the princesses stepped lightly over the smooth walkway, Callia suddenly felt the fatigue of the late hour anew as the magic's energy left her. The return journey seemed to take ten times longer than before. Her feet felt heavy, and she could suddenly feel every bump in the uneven ground as the tunnel narrowed. Her relief knew no bounds when the ground under her feet began to slant upwards. The stone steps were a sure indication that they were reaching the end of the journey. Finally, ten feet in front of her, Petra pushed open the trapdoor. Callia could see their moonlit bedroom and the outline of Petra's bed through the opening. The thought of her own bed and warm covers beckoned to her; she couldn't wait to climb into its soft depths and lose herself in sleepy oblivion. It wasn't terribly late, but the excitement of the night seemed to have drained her energy.

Eurielle's feet disappeared through the trapdoor, and the princess herself reached back to assist Callia. She passed her candle through and grabbed her sister's helping hand. Suddenly, a flash of gold out of the corner of her eye made her freeze and let go of Eurielle. She turned her head to follow the flash.

"What is it?" Eurielle asked, but Callia ignored the question. Beckoning for her candle back, she moved its light closer to the stone wall of the tunnel, where there hung a gold plaque engraved with strange words:

Za regas ceze noru zagit nuy dede

Dehisu zaru gisni desuh kosul.

Ehi ede neno, gisni qeeh xazasu,

Suh monot dorap suza kol.

Ge delolo kohilo kotulo nuy vader,

Ge fici zasuwa nuy mohi,

Dekosus ge fidedan mofidez,

Ge nonomo kohilo zavasuy hino.

Mod ehi nuy seru ruzatu higis nonoru,

Tunoru qutuse desud daf detu,

Tutu delufi zagitu nohigur kol tunoru tuno,

Desuh kose nuy monot fiqute.

Nos mosureg dexas higis nonomo desutuc

Ge suze suh kohilo dorap.

Notu za tunolo kohilo mohid suh

Tutu beme moh unee zasur.

Degino hirede, ge mosug nuy mohid

Gisni desuh kosul rututu zasuy.

Komo nesuh hihice nuy higin moh

Zaya des ge fituh emo zayad.

Za ehitu deva zatuno tunoru zaqeceno qudeh:

Za loti uree mone.

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Qeeh ceder mosu me.

Mod tunohigi nuy zaya daf odetu

Nos sure ruzatu tunoru mode,

Hisu sunia zagit deruh ruhi

Nom zayaw tulo dure zeve zani,

Noru dedede higis qunode ue unei nuy,

Jozet zatur nos zagit ue hizad.

Iyo tunoru lohet heloh nuy zaya,

Tutu zavere, rudetu nuy daf zadede.

"It looks like a poem," mused Callia in answer to her sisters' questioning stares. "But it's written in a different language, so I can't read what it says."

"What if it's important?" Thaleia asked.

"I'm sure there must be a book in the library that can translate it," Callia answered. "I can see if I can figure it out and…" her words were interrupted by a yawn that she couldn't suppress.

"But it can wait for tomorrow. We're all tired, so we'd better get to bed," said Cliodne firmly, joining Eurielle in helping Callia climb out of the hole. As soon as all of the princesses were safely in the chamber, Raia grabbed the edge of the trapdoor and began to ease it shut. A sudden gust of inexplicable wind blew through the room. It pulled the trapdoor from her grasp and closed it with a soft sucking noise.

Callia shivered as the breeze swept over her body, blowing long tendrils of brown hair free from her customary braid. She didn't know whether the shudder was due to the momentary chill of the wind or the aftereffects of witnessing another obviously magical act.

She chose not to dwell on the matter, however, as another yawn took her breath away. The princesses scattered about the room as each headed to her respective bed. Callia climbed sleepily into her bed, slipping between the mint green covers. The lanterns and candles were extinguished, and Eurielle's soft snores soon could be heard once again. For a moment, Callia again felt the euphoria of the night's discovery running through her veins before drifting into sleep herself.

She had rarely experienced a dreamless sleep before, but her excited exhaustion simply could not be denied this night. She awoke shortly after sunrise the next morning feeling thoroughly awake and just as excited as she'd been when she'd fallen asleep. Most of her sisters were still sleeping peacefully; only Eralie's and Raia's beds were empty. Both princesses were the early risers of the group, often choosing to rise well before dawn. Eralie could usually be found strolling around the royal garden, admiring the sunrise, while Raia preferred to perch on one of the palace's many balconies with a sketchbook and watercolor paints.

Callia dressed quietly in a simple dress of emerald green, plaited her hair, then grabbed her leather-bound journal from the nightstand and crept from the room. She made her way to the library, enjoying the stillness of the early morning. The grounds outside were covered with mist. A chickadee chirped outside the window; its call was answered a moment later by another bird Callia couldn't recognize.

She descended a staircase, pushed open a pair of thick oak doors, and stepped into the familiar, welcoming ambiance of the manor library. Bookshelves spanned the length of the sizable room, reaching from the peak of the arched ceiling to the slightly faded blue carpet. The room held around ten thousand books, many of which Callia had read countless times.

She weaved her way around the two leather armchairs in the center of the room to the only wall that wasn't filled with books. Instead, the center half of the wall was covered by a thick maroon curtain. Callia pulled the drapery back to reveal her secret haven: a bay window with a cushioned bench. She doubted whether anyone else appreciated the privacy this seat granted. With the window overlooking the lake and the curtain drawn around it, it was as if she was the only person in the world. In short, it was the ideal place for a princess to spend hours writing in her journal.

Callia settled comfortably into her alcove, tucking her slippered feet beneath her. She opened her journal to a fresh page, dipped her quill in an ink bottle, and debated where to begin. What should I write about first? Last night's story? Or there's the story I sent in; the man at the paper said it should be out sometime this week. Maybe I should start with the tunnel and the chamber instead. Oh, I can't forget to look for a book to translate that poem…

She was startled out of her thoughts by the sound of the library door opening. She held her breath, hoping that whoever had entered would simply take what he needed and leave her to her writing. Her hopes intensified when it was her father's voice that broke the stillness, though he wasn't talking to her.

"Just put the tray on that table there, Weston. And see about getting a fire started; it's a bit drafty." Callia's heart sank. It sounded as if he planned to stay for a while. On the positive side, he hadn't noticed that she was in the room.

She could hear Weston's attempts to start a fire in the grate, while the sounds of rustling paper led her to suspect that King Gustave had settled in one of the armchairs with the day's newspaper. As usual, he held a mostly one-sided conversation with Weston over the articles he read in the paper. The butler's responses were minimal and noncommittal.

Callia's hand started to cramp from holding her quill suspended over her open journal, but she dared not move. Writing was a very private pastime for her, and she had no desire to interrupt her creativity with a mundane conversation with her father.

"…this newspaper just isn't the same as it was when I was a boy, Weston. The changes they're making! It's starting to get ridiculous."

"Of course, sir."

"They've even included an advice column! Like people don't have problems of their own, now they have to read about the problems of others?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"And look at this! They've got a piece written by a woman! 'An original short story by Miss Allica Laerie.'"

Upon hearing this name, Callia sat up straighter, momentarily forgetting her desire to remain undetected. Luckily, Weston's fire-building efforts masked the sounds of her slight movement. King Gustave remained oblivious as he continued.

"…come up with next? I would never allow any of my daughters to step out of their place in such a way. Although I do have to admit, Thaleia certainly does not act as a proper young lady should. Nor does Petra, for that matter, although I don't know what I could do about her thefts; it's not as if she's stealing anything valuable that I know of. And Callia! I don't think I've seen her without a book in her hand since her moth…since she was little. It's not fitting for a woman of her station to appear to be so educated." Callia felt tears prick her eyelids, but Gustave wasn't through yet.

"Just don't let any of them see this 'Allica Laerie' rubbish, or they'll start getting more dangerous ideas. That's the last thing we need around here, Weston…"

"Certainly, sire. Shall I take your tray?"

"Yes, thank you. Go ahead and take this paper, as well; I won't be needing it any longer." Callia heard Weston's muffled footsteps retreating from the room. She no longer needed to work to remain quiet; she didn't think she could speak or move even if she wanted to. In a daze, Callia heard her father exit the library and decided to chance her escape; she no longer felt in the mood to write.

The fire crackled merrily in contrast to her dampened mood. King Gustave's house slippers rested on the floor in front of the armchair. She guessed that he had only stepped out for a moment and would be back soon, by which time she would prefer to be long gone.

Somehow—though she couldn't remember how—Callia made it back to the princesses' chamber. It looked almost exactly as she'd left it half an hour earlier, except that Petra had since vacated her bed. Callia dropped her journal unceremoniously on the floor. She settled between her sheets again, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Her green eyes stared unseeingly ahead.

Callia had always suspected that her father didn't approve of his daughters' activities, but she had never expected to hear him admit it so blatantly. Indeed, she had assumed that Gustave's desire for the princesses' happiness outweighed his disapproval of their choices. It shocked her to the core to discover that the realization of her dream would only come at the price of her father's censure. Of course, he had had no way of knowing that it was his own daughter's story that he was criticizing in the newspaper, but his words hurt all the same.

Salty tears trickled down her smooth cheeks. Her shoulders shook with the effort of suppressing her sobs. Usually when she was upset like this, writing in her journal or inventing a story was the perfect solution. Now, she wasn't sure whether she would ever feel like writing again.

"Callia?"

Eralie's quiet voice broke through her reverie. Callia had been so immersed in her painful thoughts that she'd failed to notice her older sister's entrance. But there she stood at the foot of her bed, regarding Callia with a concerned look on her face. She was suddenly aware that her eyes must appear puffy and over-bright from her bout of crying.

"What's the matter?" Eralie drew nearer, perching on the side of the bed and laying a hand on Callia's heaving shoulder. Her comforting touch unleashed Callia's fragile emotions, causing her to blurt out the entire story.

It didn't take long for all six of her sisters to gather around to listen. Raia returned to the room with a sketchbook in hand, Petra from wherever it was she had disappeared to (she stopped by her trunk to place something inside before joining the others). Eurielle, Thaleia, and Cliodne were still in their nightgowns.

The room fell silent following Callia's story. She took long, shuddering breaths as she attempted to regain control of herself, fully aware of the tension that permeated the room.

"Father said that?" Thaleia asked, her voice quieter than Callia had ever heard it before. She nodded in response.

"He's ashamed of us. He's ashamed of all of us."

"Why should he be?" Eurielle said indignantly. "Why should any of us be ashamed of who we are or what we like to do?"

"That's easy for you to say," said Petra, but without any of her usual impatience. "What does Father care if you're always singing and dancing around the castle? At least music is considered a 'proper' princess activity. But what about the rest of us?"

"But why does any of that matter? He doesn't understand us, he never has. This isn't any different. Callia, you shouldn't care about whether he approves of your writing; you should be able to do what makes you happy! We all have that right!" Callia raised her head and stared at her youngest sister, astonished to hear such mature wisdom coming from her mouth. Nor was she finished.

"Raia's allowed to paint and draw with Father's approval, so why can't Thaleia wear pants when she goes riding or act like a tomboy? He doesn't mind when Eralie acts like a ditz—" Eralie gave a short cry of indignation "—but he thinks Cliodne is too assertive. And why shouldn't she be? And Petra, you should be able to be a klepto if you want to! As long as you don't take any more of my stuff," she amended. Callia laughed tremulously along with her sisters.

"My point is," Eurielle finished, "that even if Father's ashamed of us, there's no reason that we should be."

During her speech, smiles had erupted around the room one by one. Only Cliodne remained stoic.

"It's not a matter of being ashamed, Eurielle. It's a matter of being allowed to do what we want," said Cliodne sadly. "If he finds out about Callia's newspaper story or our bedtime story skits, there's no telling what he'll do to stop it. There's no way he'd approve of what he thinks is improper behavior. As it is, the secret's bound to come out eventually. Look at last night; Valeria nearly caught us. There's just no privacy in the castle, no place where we can be ourselves."

Callia suddenly jerked out of her upright fetal position as the idea occurred to her, the answer to their problem. Visions of long dark tunnels, jewel-bedecked rooms, and an empty stage ran through her mind as she regarded the face of each princess in turn.

"I have an idea…"

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