We both took off running for the house.
The parlor was a scene of madness.
Soldiers milled in the cramped hallway outside the room, half of them with their swords drawn, three of them shouting. The slatternly housekeeper was shrieking and sobbing, but no one paid attention to her until one of the guards shoved her unceremoniously down the corridor, where she fell to her knees. Two of the soldiers were beating at the door to the parlor, as if trying to break down a heavy panel of wood, but there was nothing there except a block of shimmering, translucent air. Through this scrim I could spot bodies roiling inside the room—Darius, Dannette, Gisele, her maid, even the coachman—all of them holding makeshift weapons, all of them poised for battle.
Darius’s weapon appeared to be the magic in his hands, with which he had created a shield across the open doorway, and none of the soldiers could breach it with their blades or their fists.
Behind me, I felt Harwin gather his strength as if to join the fray. But he hadn’t been wearing a sword when he came after me and I didn’t know if he carried a dagger and I did not want him plowing through the mass of irate soldiers with only his rage to defend him. I drew a deep breath and demanded in my iciest voice, “What is going on here? Answer me, in the name of the king!”
That caused a big swell and commotion as the soldiers spun around to face me and my friends began shouting to me through the ensorcelled doorway. I held up a hand for silence and glared at the whole group.
“Quiet!” I shouted. “One of you—give me some answers! Why are you here?”
One of the guards pushed to the forefront—a man I knew, more’s the luck. His name was Mackoby, and he had been at the palace since I was born. A bleak, hard, but honest man. “Princess Olivia,” he said, his voice raspy. “Your father has sent troops out across the land, looking for the queen. We got word that she arrived at Kannerly this afternoon.” He gestured toward the doorway. “And you see we have found her.”
I kept both my expression and my tone glacial. “And why are you so interested in Gisele’s whereabouts?”
“She has practiced treason and must be brought to justice,” Mackoby said.
“I did not!” Gisele retorted furiously. “What treason? What is the charge?”
I didn’t look at her. “The queen asks a legitimate question,” I said. “What is her exact offense?”
Mackoby stood to stiff attention. “It was not my place to know that,” he said. “But she knew she did wrong, because she stole jewels and money from the palace and she ran away.”
“I stole nothing! I only took what was mine!”
I was thinking very fast. Everything depended on the soldiers’ orders. Gisele was convinced my father meant to kill her. It would be simpler to do that several hundred miles from the palace walls with very few witnesses. But a public condemnation might earn my father sympathy for an execution, once he manufactured evidence of Gisele’s crime. That was the question. Did he want her back at the palace alive or dead?
“Those are serious accusations,” I said. “What is my father’s plan for the queen once she is back in his custody?”
“Olivia!” Gisele cried, but I continued to ignore her. I could not make it appear as though I were her ally, or I would lose any leverage I had with the soldiers.
“He spoke of a trial to produce proof of her wrongdoing,” Mackoby said.
I gave him my sternest look, one of the regal stares I have cultivated over the years. “If I allow you to take her now, will you swear that she will come to no harm in your custody?”
Mackoby looked insulted. “Princess! My orders are to return her to the palace with all speed. During our journey, I will defend her with my life.”
I pretended to deliberate. Behind me, I felt Harwin standing mutely, a strong, supportive presence. He certainly would understand that I was playing a role. He certainly would know that I was straining my wits to think of a way to save Gisele, not betray her. But those others inside the enchanted parlor—oh, I could tell they were all shocked and horrified by my sudden treachery.
“I will allow you to take her,” I said, “but I insist on accompanying you. All of us will come,” I added. “My betrothed and all my companions.” I let everyone in the hallway determine who they thought my betrothed might be. I was fairly certain not everyone guessed correctly.
Mackoby spoke stiffly. “We cannot breach the door. Magic blocks our way.”
“Darius will remove his spell,” I said, “once he is convinced the queen will suffer no harm at your hands.”
“I swear it,” Mackoby said, “and I offer surety for my men.”
I finally faced the parlor again, letting my gaze rest on each occupant in turn, trying to convey a silent message first to Gisele, then to Darius, then Dannette. I don’t know; maybe Harwin, behind me, was adding his own unspoken reassurance. But Gisele’s face smoothed out, and she nodded infinitesimally, and Darius let the golden screen evaporate. Mackoby stepped across the threshold and took the queen’s arm in a firm hold.
“We leave as soon as you are all ready to travel,” he said.
“We need no more than a few minutes,” I said.
So, as it happened, I did not spend even a single night at Kannerly. Not that I minded. I had learned everything I needed to know in the few short hours I had been on its tainted acres.
8
The Cruel Father
We made the journey back to the palace in half the time our outbound trip had taken. Mackoby had conjured a second carriage and a handsome team of horses from the Kannerly stables, so I traveled in comfort, if you discounted the high level of anxiety. Even Darius had been outfitted with another pair of horses, so that the wagon kept up with the rest of the party. Not that I was allowed to speak to Darius, or Dannette, or Gisele, or even Harwin. Mackoby didn’t trust me, and in order to keep us from plotting Gisele’s escape, he kept me segregated from everyone in my party.
Except Gisele’s maid. Who ever notices the servants?> She came to me every morning to help me dress and carried messages from me to Gisele and the others. We formulated a hasty and desperate plan, but none of us had any idea if it would work.
We arrived at the palace close to midnight on our third day of travel. I was kept locked inside my own carriage until Gisele had been escorted inside under heavy guard. When I tumbled out the door, I looked around wildly. Dannette and Darius were being ushered inside—by servants, not soldiers, so they were probably safe—and Harwin, still on horseback, was being crowded back toward the courtyard exit.
“Don’t leave me!” I called in a sudden panic.
He pulled on the reins to bring his horse around. “If they make me go, I will be back in the morning!” he shouted.
We had no more time to speak, for footmen were on either side of me, urging me toward the door. The minute I stepped inside, I let all pretense of cooperation fall away. “Take me to my father,” I said in my haughty-princess voice.
The steward, who had overseen this whole debarkation, said smoothly, “Princess, the hour is late, and the king is no doubt sleeping.”
“The king has no doubt been wakened with the news that his queen has been returned,” I said coldly.
“Take. Me. To. Him.”
The steward hesitated a moment, then bowed. “Highness,” he said, and led the way.
My father was indeed awake, wearing a gaudy purple dressing gown, drinking a glass of wine, and conferring with Sir Neville. The minute I stepped into the room, I asked a single bald question. “What are your plans for Gisele?”
He rose to his feet and eyed me with disfavor. I was reminded of the fact that he was a rather small man. Not nearly as tall as Harwin, for instance, and I myself was almost exactly his height. “I see you are back from your trip with your betrothed,” he said. “I trust you have grown well enough acquainted to consent to a hasty wedding.”