Princess Camille knelt by the tall window in the tower where the evil prince had fallen to his death. The memory of the prince’s broken body on the ground directly below the castle had faded to almost nothing. Sometimes, she wondered if it had even happened. Maybe it was a dream.
Clementine no longer talked about the prince. She buried herself in her books and puzzles. Her enormous jigsaw puzzles occupied a large table, covered with thousands of tiny cardboard pieces. The completed images revealed luxurious castles, scenes of forests filled with beautiful wild animals, and pictures of the vast reaches of the sky—planets and galaxies, stars and streaks of light from comets and other heavenly bodies.
Camille was not allowed to work on the puzzles, but that was perfectly fine with Camille. Combing through all those tiny pieces, trying to figure out where they might fit, waiting for days or weeks to see the result gave Camille a headache. She preferred to view a finished painting, not an image broken by thin lines, rough joints that made it appear as if the world wasn’t beautiful at all—it had cracked and was ready to shatter into a thousand pieces.
Clementine went out of the castle alone for long walks. She gave Camille a tender smile, stroked her cheek, sometimes placing a kiss on Camille’s forehead, but she didn’t invite her to come along. She liked her solitary walks through fields of wildflowers and the dark mystery of the forest.
When Clementine was in the open field, Camille watched her beloved friend from the tower window. Clementine was the only person who had ever truly loved Camille, and it made her heart ache to be left behind.
Sitting by the window, she saw Clementine move through the long grasses like a summer breeze, her fingers reaching out to touch tiny, delicate yellow and blue flowers. What were Clementine’s thoughts as she walked? Was she constructing the latest jigsaw puzzle in her mind? Maybe she reflected on the books she’d read, or talked to herself in a private language that Camille would never comprehend.
Although watching Clementine walk alone was painful, at least she could see where Clementine was. On the days Clementine ventured into the wooded area alongside the field, Camille’s heart felt the sharp stab of fear.
The trees swallowed Princess Clementine as if they wanted to devour her. The forest wasn’t only filled with gentle deer and squirrels and songbirds. Camille feared the foxes and wolves that roamed in the woods. On days when the sky threatened the peaceful lands with dark, thick clouds, anything could be lurking among those trees. Monsters. Evil spirits. Witches.
The thought made Camille weep as she strained to see any sign of Clementine re-emerging from the forest. Sometimes, Camille thought she’d stopped breathing entirely, waiting endless hours for a glimpse of Clementine’s face. Her heart stopped, and maybe she even died for a time, knowing the magic had drained out of the castle, feeling their bond decaying into strands as thin as a spider’s web, a fragile, almost invisible substance that would be washed away by a few drops of rain or a strong breeze.
As summer faded to autumn, Clementine’s walks grew longer. By the time the winter solstice arrived, Clementine was wandering through the icy fields and among the snow-draped trees from the moment the sun rose until dusk. Silence filled the castle as Camille lay by the window, watching for any sign of life. Her heart was breaking, and Clementine, who should have been there to heal it, was slipping further away from her.
In the evenings, they sat by the fire. Now, Clementine had abandoned her jigsaw puzzles. The last one had been sitting unfinished on the fifteen-foot table for weeks. The cover of the box showed it was a picture of a much more lavish castle than the one they lived in. A moat populated by white swans surrounded the castle in the jigsaw puzzle. The gardens extended for miles, and between the walls were hundreds of exotic birds and small greenhouses, where tropical plants flourished. All that had been pieced together were the edges of the puzzle—bits of sky and white clouds, a few treetops. Along the bottom edge, the deep blue water of the moat had been completed, and there was a section that extended into the empty center that held a swan, complete except for her eye.
Camille closed the door to the puzzle room. She turned the lock and dropped the key into her pocket. It was clear that Clementine would never touch her puzzle again.
That winter was cold and long. The princesses hardly spoke except during dinner. Camille would ask Clementine what she’d seen during her walk that day, and Clementine would respond with a tiny smile. “Beautiful things.”
“What beautiful things?”
“Graceful animals. Clever animals.”
“What else?”
“Fairies. Elves.” Clementine laughed softly.
“Did they speak to you?”
“If I was very still and very quiet, yes.”
“Were you very still and quiet?”
Clementine smiled.
“Why won’t you tell me? I want to know all about your adventures.”
“You can’t know everything.”
“But I’ve always known everything about you.”
“Are you sure?” Clementine gave her that small, twisted smile again.
Was there something wicked hidden there? Camille couldn’t be sure. It was a strange smile, one that she’d never seen on Clementine’s face before, but one that had been slowly taking shape over the past weeks, as if Clementine were trying it on to see if it fit her properly.
One day, when the snow was drifting down in great, large flakes, as if white feathers were falling from the sky, Clementine went out for her walk. She wore a light blue hooded cape that brushed the snow-covered paths, hiding her walking boots and the hem of her dress.
That day, while Camille waited at the window, tears fell from her eyes. Each drop of liquid formed a crystal that hung from the windowsill like a tiny icicle. All day long, her tears dripped and froze. After a while, the sun sank below the trees, and then it disappeared entirely. A single star sparkled in the black canopy above the castle.
Camille waited all night. The next morning, everything was covered with ice.
Clementine never returned. Camille sent men on horses, guided by magnificent huskies. They combed the forest and fields every day for eight days, but found no trace of Clementine, not even a scrap of fabric torn from her cape or a single strand of hair. She had vanished completely.