A flash of red caught the corner of Oliver’s eye. He turned his head toward the palace once again, thinking that he had only conjured the color out of his memories.
But no.
Someone in a red cloak was emerging from the palace doors, a tall figure in black on either side. Oliver knew it was Petunia in the red cloak. It had to be. The smallness of the figure, the sweep of the cloak … he would know her no matter the distance.
“That’s Pet,” breathed Heinrich, standing close by Oliver. “But where are they taking her?” Every line in the prince’s body was taut.
There was a row of small boats beached on the shore. One of the tall black figures helped Petunia into the bow of a boat, and then sat in the middle seat with a hand on each oar. The other tall figure pushed the boat out and leaped into the stern. The rower pulled them toward the wooded shore with firm strokes, and Oliver and the others drew back into the trees.
“We have to move farther away,” said Galen in a barely audible whisper. “We can’t risk them seeing us now.”
“But we could rescue her,” Oliver insisted in a harsh whisper of his own.
“She doesn’t need rescuing right this very moment,” Galen said, taking Oliver’s upper arm in a tight grip. “And if we killed those two and took Petunia with us, the king would soon miss his brothers, and he would come looking for them. We would never be able to get the other girls out then.”
The other girls. Beautiful, queenly Rose. Poppy with her mischievous smile. She and Princess Daisy were to be married in the spring. Oliver had seen Princes Ricard and Christian in Bruch. He had seen the way they smiled at their princesses. Did they know what had happened, or were they still going about their ordinary duties, oblivious to the danger their brides were in? Oliver swallowed, his throat dry. Suddenly, getting all twelve princesses safely out of the black palace seemed insurmountable.
He watched Petunia climb out of the boat without any assistance, his eyes searching her for any sign of pain or fear. She moved easily, but her hood hid her face. The swirls of silver embroidery around the edges of the hood matched the silver of the trees, and the scarlet velvet stood out against the black soil. When she started toward the trees with her escort, Oliver allowed himself to be drawn back into the thick of the woods.
They found a small clear space some ways away, and Walter Vogel set them each to a task. Oliver’s was to cut the silver twigs to a certain length, and then to notch them in a pattern that looked like a line of fence posts.
“Well! What did you think they were?” The crone whacked him over the head with one gnarled hand. “New fence posts to hold them all in, the awful old things.”
Oliver used great restraint to avoid sidling away from the crone. He didn’t care if she was a revered sorceress; his head smarted where she had hit him. But he supposed being several centuries old would make your moods unpredictable.
The two princes busied themselves with the small bags of soil and the leaves, and Bishop Schelker cut marks into the ends of the larger branches that Oliver had chopped. Their preparations weren’t taking very long, and Oliver was hopeful that they would be able to finish refreshing Under Stone’s prison before nightfall. Then he supposed they would just have to worry about actually fetching the princesses, and they could finally leave.
And it seemed that Walter and Galen had a plan to get the princesses out of the palace as well.
“We’ll need to sneak inside the palace, and there’s only one invisibility cloak,” Galen said when they had finished preparing the wood and soil. “Although I do have this.” He reached into the satchel that Bishop Schelker had brought and removed a lightweight shawl of gray wool. “Which should work just as well.”
“It’s not as stylish as my cloak,” sniffed the good frau.
“I wouldn’t think to upstage your fine cloak,” said Galen with a little bow.
“I stole that off a Romisch cavalry officer when I was a young lass,” she told Galen with a twinkle in her eye. “Of course, it had no magic then. I just liked the color.”
“It was always a very good color on you,” Walter Vogel said.
Oliver thought about asking them how long they had known each other, but decided he didn’t want any of the details that the good frau might actually offer about their relationship.
“Two of us will be invisible,” Galen continued. “But unfortunately only two of us. Another reason why I sent Frederick to the estate with Oliver’s men: he would have tried to come with us, and there isn’t a third cloak.
“We’ll try to get in at the end of the ball and bring the girls out when everyone is dispersing for the night,” Galen went on. “Someone will need to wait by the gate to make certain they all get through, and then we’ll close the prison.”
“I want to go into the palace,” Oliver said.
At the same time, Heinrich reached for the gray shawl.
But Galen was shaking his head. He pulled the gray shawl away from his cousin. “I’m sorry, Heinrich. I’m giving the cloak to Oliver, and taking this myself.”
“But Lily,” began Heinrich.
“Heinrich, how fast can you run?” Galen looked as if asking the question pained him, but his eyes never wavered from his cousin’s face.
“Damn Analousians,” Heinrich said, and let go of the shawl. He pounded the thigh of his bad leg with a fist and winced.
“Heinrich, after you help to place the new fence posts, you’ll wait at the gate,” Galen said. “And get all the girls out. And yourself.”
“I thought you needed my help with the spell,” Heinrich protested.
“We could use you,” Walter Vogel admitted. “But we can also do it without you.”
“And I would rather that you made sure that Rose didn’t try to come back,” Galen said. “It will be easier for me knowing that you and the girls are all safe. And alive.”
Oliver looked down at his hands. He knew there was a chance he wouldn’t survive this. Especially if he helped to seal the Kingdom Under Stone. That had been another reason why Prince Frederick had been sent away, for some of their husbands would need to survive this. But if Petunia and her sisters could be free, it would be worth it, Oliver decided.
To his surprise, the good frau put one hand over his in a comforting gesture. He looked at her, but just as she opened her nearly toothless mouth to speak, there was the sound of shouts and then the crack of a pistol firing.
“That wasn’t the palace,” Heinrich said, struggling to his feet.
“It came from over there,” Bishop Schelker said, pointing through the trees where they had last seen Petunia.
Out of habit, Oliver pulled his wolf mask over his face and fastened it. He grabbed his pistol, shifting it to his left hand. He hefted Karl’s ax with his right. “I hope this doesn’t ruin your plans too much,” he said to the crown prince, and then he raced off through the woods.
Prize
Petunia was having quite an enjoyable time pretending that Kestilan and Telinros didn’t exist. Telinros was returning the favor, but it frustrated Kestilan and he kept trying to make conversation, or at the very least make her look at him.
She went a little way along the path that wound from the black shore through the silver wood. It was the same path that she and her sisters had always used, a path she hadn’t walked in ten years.
“Petunia, come back here!” Kestilan called.
That decided her. She went along the path to its end, with the princes trailing behind. Kestilan continued to plead with her to turn back, but Telinros just looked angry when she peeked at him. She straightened her cloak and kept going.