I yawned sleepily as I plodded down the hall. Another long night, and I hadn’t been sleeping well as-is. Especially since Loonie had started hassling me. I would’ve put up more of a fuss if I’d known that—
I froze, then ducked behind a pillar. I counted to five, then peered around it.
Dr. House Call was backing out of Luna’s room. He said something to her, but I couldn’t hear the words. He stepped away, then, slung his old-fashioned leather bag over his back. He pulled her door shut, then turned and walked away.
Only, the door didn’t close. The latch didn’t catch all the way; instead, it popped back open a few inches. But Dr. Call didn’t notice; he just kept walking.
I let out a breath, long and slow. He scared me--I thought he was Luna. I wasn’t looking forward to dealing with her at any time of day, but especially not while I was hardly awake myself…
But still…
I crept forward. Ever since Loonie had come back, she’d been… well, the newspapers said reclusive. I prefered secretive, myself. I don’t know what she was trying to hide, but she played her cards very close to the chest; she rarely spoke about herself, and, when she did, she was slippery as an eel. But, most of all--she kept the door to her chamber closed and locked at all hours of the day and night.
But here it was, wide open, and not a guard in sight…
I crept closer. I glanced up and down the hall once more, then turned and peered inside.
It took a minute for my eyes to adjust. But slowly, shapes began to rise up out of the darkness: a wooden rocking chair, a basket of thread lying next to it. A narrow, hard bed, almost a military cot. A full tea service, complete with steaming teapot, on a small table.
And, sitting at her vanity, Luna herself.
I stared. It had taken me a moment to recognize her. For one. She was naked--no clothes, no shoes, no collar (there was nothing wrong with that, just… I’d never seen her without at least a nightie, at least not since she returned). And she had her mane down, too. It was beautiful in the dim light, spilling halfway down her back like a silver-blue curtain. But most of all, it was the way she sat: she looked defeated and sad and broken--nothing like the old battleaxe I knew. I’d always known she was elderly, but this was the first time I’d ever seen her look old.
She sat that way, staring down at the ground, for several long, awkward moments. Eventually, she looked up, slowly, and met her own eyes in the mirror. She held her gaze for just a moment, before jerking away. Without looking at herself, she lit her horn and picked up a silver brush, then began to brush out her mane in silence.
She brushed for several minutes--longer than she needed to, I think. Then she switched to brushing her tail. When she had finished with that, she stretched her wings out, one after the other, and examined them carefully, checking to see if any feathers needed preening. She folded them again with a sigh, the lit her horn again. This time, she pulled her mane into a ponytail, tied it off with a dark-blue ribbon, and wrapped it up into a neat bun. She opened a small drawer and pulled out a pair of her pince-nez spectacles and put them on her nose.
Luna--and she was starting to look like Luna now, finally--took a deep breath. She sat up a little straighter, then looked herself in the eyes again. She set her jaw.
And, though her horn stayed dark this time, what happened next was magical.
As I watched, thirty years melted away. Oh, she was gray and wrinkly as ever, but the way she held herself, she became tall. Strong. Proud. She had changed from bone-china to steel, by pure force of will.
Suddenly, she stood, the movement quick, fluid, and decisive. When she turned to go find her dress, I had already disappeared.
I scuttled into the kitchen a few minutes late, but no one looked up. I snapped on the stove, and gathered up the pancake ingredients already waiting for me. I tried to concentrate on what I was doing, but it wasn’t until after I realized I’d used blueberries to make a grim face in the batter, wearing pince-nez spectacles, that I hesitated.
What, exactly, had I seen in that bedroom?