Princess Tessa sat up in bed and slid her hand under the satin pillow. The mirror's metal handle met her fingers, and she pulled it out with a smile, touching the pink shells along its rim. She looked at her face, which still stared clearly back at her, despite the crack that ran across the mirror like an "x." She had a pretty face--gold hair above dark brown skin, violet eyes, a dainty nose, and full lips that too often frowned. The only thing she didn't like about her face was the dimple in her chin.

Today she expected her face to be different. After all, it was her birthday--her special birthday that meant she was no longer a child. Today she was seventeen, old enough finally to be queen. But her face looked no different at all, so she frowned. She slid the mirror back under her pillow, threw off her covers, and yelled for her slave.

"Yes, mistress," Lina said, bowing as she came into the room. Tessa stared at Lina for a moment and decided to be nice to her today. Besides her Nanny, Lina was the only person Tessa could talk to--except at banquets and ceremonies, which didn't count. Tessa was never allowed to play with the servants' children, and there were no other princes or princesses in the castle. When noblemen visited, they rarely brought their families. And her Uncle was too busy being king to notice her.

"You don't have to bow to me today, Lina," Tessa declared.

Lina stood up straight, her black eyes surprised. Tessa thought for the first time how pretty Lina was. She had hair the color of moonlight, and her skin was pale as Tessa's pearl necklace.

"How old are you, Lina?" Tessa asked, slipping her feet into sheepskin slippers and rising. Lina started to bow, but stopped halfway.

"I-I'm twenty, Your Radiance."

"Only three years older than I am," Tessa observed. "It seems like you've always been my slave. Do you remember your home?"

Lina was not used to being asked questions. Princess Tessa rarely talked about anything but herself.

"I was six years old when they brought me here. I remember my home."

Tessa smiled--the second time that morning. She had discovered something new--other people's lives. This was better than trying on new dresses. She walked to a table by the window and sat down.

"We'll have breakfast together today, Lina," she said. "And you may tell me everything that you remember."

The cook brought in a platter full of pomegranite cakes, ostrich eggs, and chocolate tea. Lina sat across from Princess Tessa, too afraid to eat. What if she got a crumb on the side of her mouth or spilled her tea? She knew Tessa wouldn't like that--the princess wanted everything around her to be perfect.

"Eat," Tessa commanded after Lina just sat there for a minute, her face even whiter than the tablecloth. Lina had no choice but to obey.

"Now tell me about your home," Tessa urged, pouring Lina more tea.

"Well, I . . . I was a princess once," Lina said in a shaky voice.

It was Tessa who spilled the tea.

"What?" she asked, not sure if she should be curious or angry.

Lina lifted her bangs to reveal a silver star in the middle of her forehead.

"This is the sign of my country's royal family. Your uncle the king went to war with us. He captured my castle and killed my mother and father. My brother, who was only twelve, tried to fight him. Your uncle struck my brother with his sword, as I watched behind the curtains. I screamed, your uncle found me, and then he brought me here to be your slave."

"Liar!" Tessa yelled, standing up so suddenly that her plate full of cakes went crashing to the floor. "My uncle would not do such things! He gives me everything I want--my dresses, my shoes, my jewelry. He would not take other people's castles. You're just trying to make yourself look better than a slave!"

Tessa raised her hand to slap Lina. Lina did not move--she just sat staring at the princess with something in her eyes Tessa had not seen before.

"Did your uncle ever give you his love?" Lina asked, still not moving.

Tessa lowered her hand and turned her face to the wall.

"Get out," she said, with something like tears in the words. "I don't want to see you again. Perhaps working in the kitchen scrubbing floors will teach you not to pretend you were once a princess."

Lina folded her napkin and dropped it on her plate. She left before Tessa turned around.

For the first time, Tessa dressed herself. She went into dressing room number two and picked a green gossamer dress with gold-embroidered sleeves. To match it she chose gold satin slippers and a gold-beaded veil. As she stood in front of the long mirror, under her veil, Tessa wondered why her uncle never let her wear a crown. Surely now that she was a young lady he would pronounce her queen. She turned around in circles so the dress puffed out around her like dragonfly wings.

Tessa smiled for the third time that morning (a record for her), then went to find Nanny.

Nanny was a grumpy old woman who never liked Tessa. The only reason she became a Nanny was to live in the castle and wear silk dresses. Tessa didn't like Nanny much either. Nanny had a large nose with a mole on the tip of it, out of which grew two gray hairs. Tessa couldn't stand the sight of anything ugly, so she made Nanny wear a veil over her face. Once Nanny forgot the veil, and Tessa screamed until the old woman left the room.

That morning Tessa could not find Nanny. She wandered from room to room through the East Wing of the castle, where she lived, and found no one. She had sent Lina to the kitchen, and now she regretted it. She thought of going to the ktichen to get Lina, but she remembered that her uncle didn't like it when she left the East Wing.

He told her that he kept her in the East Wing so she wouldn't have to see the servants, who were too ragged for a princess' eyes. For the first time Tessa thought that even a dirty servant would be better than her grey stone walls.

At lunchtime Tessa returned to her bedroom and found food on her table. Who had left it? It was her favorite meal--strawberry milk and raisin sandwiches. She sat down and stared at her plate. The room was so quiet that she could hear her own breathing.

What about her birthday party and her presents? Last year her uncle had given her a cartfull of packages. It had taken all afternoon to open them all. The best part had been the feast that night--all the noblemen in the kingdom had attended. She had sat at the head of the long table, beside her uncle. He had let her drink her first goblet of sweet nectar.

At the foot of the table sat young people her age, the sons and daughters of noblemen. She had longed to talk to them, but her uncle surrounded her with the Chief of State and other ministers, all boring old men with loud voices, who smoked cigars. Tessa had sipped her nectar quietly, listening to speeches about taxes and soldiers, while the young people at the end of the table laughed together.

Even when the music began, her uncle would not let her dance.

"Princesses must go to bed early to keep their faces fresh," he had told her.

Tessa had paused for a moment at the stairtop, looking back at the young people dancing. One girl in a silver gown lifted her face toward her partner, a tall youth in a black cape. He grinned at her, then bent and touched his lips to hers. I wonder how that feels, Tessa had thought as Nanny grumpily led her away.

Tessa heard a noise. It was not very loud, but the room was so quiet that it sounded like a crash to Tessa's ears. She got up from the table, her sandwich still untouched.

Was it time for the party now? She ran to her bed and grabbed her mirror from under the pillow. She lifted it to her face to make sure she looked as lovely as usual.

In the mirror Tessa spied a man all dressed in white, with a white mask over his face. He crept toward her from the door, a large bag in one hand and a rope in the other.

Tessa turned around and screamed.

Cold crawled up Tessa's body slowly, starting at her toes. She felt like an unwanted kitten, tied up in a sack without enough air or light, being lowered into freezing water that she couldn't see.

Was someone drowning her?

Tessa reached down with her fingers and touched her feet. They did not feel wet. But the cold kept creeping up her knees. What would happen when it reached her heart?

The cold reached Tessa's elbows when the top of her bag suddenly opened to let in the warm light. For a moment Tessa saw a shadow over the hole as if a face had peered in. Then only light shone down upon her, and she wasted no time in wriggling out of the bag (which was hard to do since most of her body still felt stiff with cold).

She found herself on the stone floor of a small round room which had no furniture and no window. Light burned from an iron chandelier in the high stone ceiling. A single wooden door, cut into the side of the room, was closed.

Tessa sat up and rubbed her legs. When she could feel her feet again, she stood, swaying like a lamb. It hurt terribly, but she managed to take a few steps toward the door. She knew she had to get out of the room. What if the cold came back to get her?

She pushed the iron handle on the door, which swung open. On the other side glared the face of a man.

It was the ugliest face Tessa had ever seen, with a red scar slashed from hairline to jaw. The scar missed the left eye barely, turning an otherwise black eyebrow white. Tessa saw one edge of the mouth turned down where the other side turned up, the scar disappearing into a black beard.

"Aaahh!" she screamed and slammed the door.

Tessa leaned against the door and covered her eyes as if acid had just been splashed into them.

"Horrible, horrible," she repeated to herself. "Where am I? Where are all my pretty things?"

The silent room did not answer her question.

After a few moments Tessa removed her hands from her eyes. She was afraid to stay in the room because of the cold. She was afraid to go out because of the scar-faced man.

A simple thing called hunger finally made her open the door again.

The ugly face had gone. Tessa stepped into a room similar to hers, except that it had a wooden bed with a brown wool blanket, two chairs, and a table. On the table was a half-eaten loaf of bread and a pitcher of water. Tessa walked over, picked up the bread, and sniffed it. It felt hard, but it didn't smell too moldy. She ate every crumb of it, then drank half the water in the pitcher.

"Since you've eaten my dinner, you could at least say 'thank you.'"

Tessa looked up like a child caught stealing cookies. The man with the scar stood a few feet away, by an arched stone doorway. In the shadows, from a distance, he did not look as hideous as he had at first. Tessa did not scream or drop anything. She stared at him for a minute, then put the pitcher carefully back on the table.

"I'm not used to saying 'thank you' to anyone," she declared, regally holding her head high. "I am a princess."

The man laughed.

No one had ever laughed at Tessa. She frowned in a way that used to frighten Lina. The man only laughed harder.

"What's so funny?" Tessa asked, finally curious herself.

"You don't look much like a princess," he said.

For the first time Tessa noticed her dress. It was torn and muddy, as if it had been dragged through a swamp. Both of her gold slippers were gone, and when she reached up to feel her veil, she felt only a very little bit of hair.

"My mirror!" she yelled. "I must see what they've done to me!"

The man strode over to her. Tessa tried not to look at him, but she could not help herself. Like any abnormality, his face drew her eyes to it.

Tessa thought she was going to be sick. She had to shut her mouth tightly to keep from screaming again.

"Here," the man said, holding out something that glittered in the light--Tessa's mirror. She grabbed it from his hand and held it up to her face.

Her long, golden, wavy hair was all cut off. Only little curls lay close to her scalp, like a baby's locks--and they had been dyed black. Her face (she had been terrified it would have a scar like the man's) was the same--only it was caked with mud as black as her hair.

"Black!" she cried, still staring into the cracked mirror. "All my hair cut off and turned black!"

"Black is not a bad color," the man said harshly, rubbing his ebony beard with one hand.

Tessa ran to the pitcher, tore off some of her dress, and began furiously washing the mud from her face. She didn't even realize that her own tears were mixing with the water.

"What color did your hair used to be?" the man asked. He had followed her over to the table and watched her curiously.

"G-gold," Tessa said, her voice catching on the word.

"B-beautiful gold."

"Well, I think the black will eventually wash out," the man observed.

Tessa's tears disappeared, and her anger returned. She had been well known throughout the castle for her tantrums.

"But I want my gold hair back now! Now, do you hear? And I want some new shoes and dresses, and some decent food!"

The man did not run to obey as Lina and Nanny had done. In fact, he looked like he had no intention of ever bringing her those things.

"Didn't you hear me?" Tessa demanded in a dangerously quiet voice. No reply. Tessa raised her hand as if to slap him across his obnoxious scar. He did not wince.

"Are you suddenly deaf as well as the ugliest person I ever saw?" she asked.

The man reached up and grabbed her hand. His was a very strong hand, and Tessa squealed in pain as it tightened over hers.

"You're hurting me," she said.

"Do you think you haven't done the same to me?" he asked. Tessa looked at him in surprise. She hadn't actually thought of that.

"I s-suppose so," she admitted. The man dropped her hand.

"What is your name?" he asked in a coldly polite way, as if they had just met at a banquet and were forced to sit next to each other and converse, when they really felt like staring at their plates instead.

"Tessa," the princess replied. "Do you have a name?"

"Most people do," the man replied, frowning. When he frowned the scar looked especially crooked. "My name is Shanon. Prince Shanon."

Tessa did not seem very surprised that he was a prince. So many strange things had happened lately. Perhaps even Lina had been telling the truth.

"I am not really pleased to meet you," Tessa said truthfully. "I wish I were back in my room waiting for my birthday present. I don't even know how I got here--except that a man in white brought me in his bag. I don't even know where 'here' is. And I don't care. Just show me the way to leave. Is that the door?"

Tessa pointed to the arched stone entry. Prince Shanon went over to the table and poured himself a glass from the last of the pitcher's water.

"That door leads to the rest of the tower," he informed her after taking a drink and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Then where is the door to get out?" Tessa asked.

"There is none," Shanon replied. "The tower's walls are made of solid stone. The only doors lead from one room to another."

"Then--"

"Then you are a prisoner here, as I am," the prince finished Tessa's sentence for her.

Tessa walked over to the stone archway and peeked out. The hallway beyond it lay as black as deep ocean where sunlight never comes.

"How long have you been here?" she asked, starting to shake as if the cold returned.

"Fourteen years," the man replied, in a tone edged with anger like a sword. When he spoke the scar pulled the corner of his crooked mouth. "Ever since I was a boy of twelve."

"Fourteen years," Tessa repeated slowly, thinking of each long summer and winter and the seasons in between. "I am only three years older than fourteen years. Today (or was it yesterday?) is my birthday."

Tessa walked through the archway and into the hall. She didn't care that it was dark. She wanted the darkness to hide her from the scarred face of Shanon. She also wanted it to hide her tears, which dripped soundlessly down her cheeks to the dusty stone floor.

"Would you like some light?" Shanon asked, stepping into the hallway, a candle in his hand. The light, beneath his chin, lit up his face weirdly, etching jagged shadows by the scar. Tessa covered her mouth and turned her back to the prince.

"You may show me to my own room," she commanded coldly. "Is there a place on the other side of the tower?"

"Did anyone ever tell you that you are a brat?" Shanon asked.

Tessa spun around to face him, a blush on her cheeks that even candlelight revealed. She knew what the castle people called her when they thought she was not listening--those few times she was allowed to be near them.

"You will never, ever call me that again!" she exclaimed, clenching her fists at her sides.

"I am not your servant, Tessa," Shanon replied. He walked back into his room.

The darkness in the hallway no longer felt comforting. A sudden breeze filtered down the passage. Tessa hesitated, shivering. Then she ran into Shanon's room.

"Aren't you going to show me to my room?" she asked, her voice a little less like a princess giving orders.

Shanon sat at his table writing in a large book. He finished the page he was working on before glancing up.

"If you ask me--nicely," he replied.

Tessa thought about that for a moment. She had never asked anybody for anything nicely in her life. She wasn't even sure how to do it.

"Please?" she whispered. The word sounded strange in her mouth, as if she had just tasted a lime.

"Please what?"

Was he teasing her? Tessa blushed again.

"Please take me to my room."

Shanon closed the book and placed it carefully in the table's drawer. Then he brushed past Tessa silently. She followed him through the archway.

On the way down the hall Shanon lit torches which lined the walls in iron brackets.

"I usually don't come this way, so it stays dark," he explained.

Tessa wondered why he didn't come that way. She remembered the cold.

They passed several closed wooden doors before they arrived at the end of the hallway. Another white stone arch like the one that led to Shanon's room loomed above them. On the black cornerstone of this one, however, Tessa saw a carved eagle, its wings extended, its talons pointed downward. Its beak was slightly parted as if to utter a shriek, and even its stone eyes seemed to watch Tessa. The eagle did not look tame like Tessa's pet Ariel, who had lived in a golden cage beside her window--until he died.

Shanon strode into the room without even glancing up at the arch. Tessa followed him, every muscle in her body getting ready to turn around and run.

Shanon reached up with his candle and lit the iron chandelier. The room looked almost identical to Shanon's; the table even held a pitcher full of water beside a plate of bread.

"Were you expecting me?" Tessa asked the prince, suddenly suspicious.

How did he get ahold of her mirror?

Had he brought her here?

"No," Shanon answered. "Do you think I'd want a spoiled princess here to have to protect all the time? You're no better than a child. I don't know who brought you here. The Keeper expected you, though."

"The K-keeper?" Tessa stuttered.

Shanon stood in the entry. For the first time Tessa noticed how tall he was, and how his shoulders filled the archway. He seemed impatient to leave, and she realized with a sort of helpless feeling that he didn't have to stay and answer her questions.

"The Keeper is the one who brings us food and water," Shanon explained. "I have never seen him. I don't think he's dangerous to us. It is the Cold you must beware."

"The C-cold?" Tessa's voice squeaked so low that Shanon barely heard her. She could still feel the icy thing like unseen water creeping up her legs.

"You will know if it comes near you."

Shanon was tired of questions. He left Tessa standing in the middle of the room like a statue carved from blocks of fear. When Tessa discovered that she was not really frozen (the memory of the Cold still with her), she walked over to the table and picked up the plate of bread. It looked a little fresher than the bread in Shanon's room, but she was no longer hungry enough to eat it. Perhaps if she had pepperment cakes and a cup of banana milk . . .

Tessa slumped over to the bed and sat down on it. It felt hard as the floor, and its blanket itched her fingers. I would need to be dead to sleep on a thing like this, she thought. If only I had just one of my pink feather pillows . . .

Since she could not eat or sleep, Tessa had to find something else to do. The room did not offer many possibilities. She walked back to the table and found a drawer in it, just like the one Shanon had opened in his room. In the drawer rested a large, leather-bound book, a feather pen, and a well of ink. Tessa pulled them out and opened the book. It held only blank paper.

Tessa began to write. She had never especially enjoyed writing before--probably because her teachers had been as grumpy and old as Nanny. But she had learned because she thought it might be necessary for a queen to write commands someday. Now she was hardly a queen writing commands. But the writing gave her comfort, as if she were confiding to a secret friend.

It is sometime after my seventeenth birthday. I

am sitting in a round stone room with only a table,

two chairs, and a bed. I'm locked in a tower.

I've met an ugly prince named Shanon. He has

a horrid scar down his face, and he is not very

friendly. He told me to watch out for the Cold.

I've felt it once, and I'm afraid to be alone in

this silent room. Who has brought me here?

What have I done?

In penning the word "Cold," Tessa started to shiver. If you wrote its name, would it come to you? Tessa began writing only nice things, such as a list of all her dresses. Somehow the words "pink silk evening gown with ruffles" did not comfort her. She wrote about Nanny and Lina. Lina's words came back to Tessa as if they had just been spoken:

Did you uncle ever give you his love?

He was her only relative, since her parents died shortly after she was born. She saw Uncle once a month--at feasts in the Great Hall. But there had always been such a crowd of people that Tessa couldn't really talk to him.

Lina and Nanny had only followed orders, silent unless commanded to speak.

How many days and nights had Tessa spent alone in the East Wing, or at a great feast with so many people that it was worse than being alone? Whose name could she put in this book as someone who had loved her and would care that she had been carried away to a tower?

Tessa looked at the half-filled page and realized she had nothing more to write. She picked up the book and threw it across the room. It struck the stone wall and slid to the floor, stubbornly unbroken.

Tessa felt like screaming just to break the silence that followed the book's crash.

If she stayed here alone she would go mad. People are not meant to live alone in towers.

There was not even a window to let Tessa know when the sun rose and set. How could she count the days, the years? Perhaps it would be better to simply not eat (that would not be difficult, since she was used to finer things than stale bread). Then she would die before she could grow old and mad in the tower.

But Tessa didn't really want to die.

Tessa discovered that, after all her thinking, she grew sleepy. She stumbled to her bed and lay down. Despite the hard mattress and all her thoughts, Tessa fell asleep in a moment.