He was the first one out of the doors and onto the beach, but only by a few seconds. And there, to his horror, he saw the twelve princesses standing on the shore looking lost.
The princes’ twelve boats were too far down the shore. The silver boat, when at last he located it, was out in the middle of the lake, drifting aimlessly. In his haste to reach Rose, he had not pulled it far enough up the shore. He cursed his own stupidity, then called out to Rose.
She looked around blindly, and he realized that he still wore the cape. He snatched it over his head and tucked it under one arm as he ran. The other princesses cried out to see him appear so suddenly.
Their pursuers were pounding down the beach, Illiken in the lead. Rose pulled her shawl closer about her shoulders, looking around for another way to cross.
“White like a swan, floating on the water,” Galen said, staring at her shawl and wondering….
Rose looked at him, not understanding. He grabbed a corner of the shawl. “The wool, Rose, a magician gave it to me….”
Before he could finish the thought, Rose had nodded and taken it off. Galen cast it on the water.
Before their eyes, the wool stiffened and stretched until it became a triangular raft large enough to hold them all. Galen sagged for a moment in relief, then he scooped up Pansy and Petunia and jumped onto the white raft, the others following suit. As soon as Hyacinth, the last, boarded, the enchanted craft began to speed across the lake.
“They’re coming!” Poppy pointed behind them to where the princes were launching the golden boats with inhuman speed.
“Do you know how to load a pistol?” Galen looked to Rose, but it was Lily who answered.
“I do,” she said, taking the pistols out of his hands. “A friend taught me.” She loaded the pistols with expert skill while Galen attended to his rifle.
“Hold them ready,” he told Lily. “Can you shoot?”
She nodded, and Galen remembered that it was Lily who had threatened Rionin and the others when they had come into the garden.
They reached the far shore and ran onto the black sand. Instantly the white shawl shrank and then disappeared beneath the water.
“Get the others home,” Galen told Rose. He stood on the shore, his rifle ready. “Wait until you have a good shot,” he instructed Lily, who stood by his side looking pale but calm. “Don’t waste it. There isn’t enough time to reload.”
“I understand,” she said. She steadied the pistol in both hands.
“Now for the rifle,” he said, as the front boat came within range. He aimed for Illiken, but the new king lunged to the side as Galen squeezed the trigger. The sound of the shot rang through the underworld, and another prince who had shared Illiken’s boat cried out and gripped his arm.
Galen shouldered the rifle and raised his pistol. Beside him, Lily took careful aim. Galen looked for Illiken once more, but he was crouched low in his boat now, and Galen could not get a clear shot. Instead he aimed for the second boat and fired. The prince guiding that boat fell back, his boat rocking wildly, and the guard with him cried out as they tipped into the lake.
“Ha!” Lily cried out as she fired, and the prince she had been aiming for clutched his shoulder and fell back into the arms of one of his brothers. “Swine,” she screamed, her face flushed.
Galen looked at her and saw tears on her cheeks. “He was my partner,” she explained.
“Run,” he replied, taking her hand. Illiken’s boat was scraping the sand in the shallows.
They raced for the forest, where they found Rose waiting. “I told you to go,” he huffed as they passed into the silvery shadows of the trees.
“I know,” Rose said, falling in beside him. “But I couldn’t leave you! And how will we stop Illiken? He’s king now, and half human. He can cross into the mortal world in the darkness.”
“Isn’t it dawn yet?” Lily’s flush was fading to pallor again.
“I don’t think so,” Rose panted.
“Not for two more hours at least,” Galen told them.
They could see the others up ahead, just reaching the pearl and silver gate. Behind them came the crunching of booted feet on the path and the sound of shouts, like the baying of hunting hounds. There was crashing in the trees to their left: a fast runner braving the silver trees to head them off.
Galen whipped his musket off his shoulder and veered toward the sound. With a shout he thrust the bayonet forward, cutting off the triumphant cry of one of the princes as he broke out of the trees.
The bayonet stuck fast, and Galen left it to continue on. Holding his arms wide, he swept Rose and Lily before him through the gate. The other princesses waited at the foot of the golden stairs.
Illiken stopped his headlong run to step casually through the gate and smile at them. “Come to me, Rose.” He held out one hand, imperious.
Rose swayed beside Galen. Galen put out an arm and stopped her.
“Our mother’s bargain ends with your father’s death,” Rose said bravely, although her face was strained with the effort of resisting him.
“The bargain passes to me, even as it passed from your mother to you,” Illiken said with a sneer. “Now, come!”
Some of the princesses had ascended the steps, but others had lingered, to Galen’s mounting anxiety. A soft hand touched his wrist, and from behind him Lily whispered, “Here.” A pistol was pressed into his hand.
Galen took it, holding it down and slightly behind him. He edged a little away from Rose, so that he could bring the weapon up swiftly.
“Come now, Rose,” Illiken repeated. “Perhaps your punishment for trying to flee should be that you and I wed now, tonight.”
Galen brought the pistol up in a smooth movement and fired. The ball struck true, hitting Illiken square in the heart and throwing him back against the gate. He slumped to the ground, and Galen nudged Rose toward the golden stair. He had one last thing to do before he left.
Illiken groaned and got to his feet like a marionette being pulled upright. “A good effort, gardener,” he said, brushing off his jacket. “But mere iron can no longer slay me, for I am the King Under Stone now!” He raised his arms, smiling.
“We need another silver needle,” Rose whispered. She had put one foot on the bottom step, but now moved back. “Lily,” she said to her sister. “Take the others and go. Galen and I will stay to—” And without finishing her sentence, she lunged past Galen, running with her skirts high, past the startled Illiken and into the silver wood.
“No!” Illiken snarled as Rose grabbed the lowest branch of the first tree, dragging on it to break free a twig. He went after her, seizing her by the waist and hauling her down the path toward the lake.
The clasp of the invisibility cloak was still fastened. Galen pulled it on and disappeared, hurrying off the path and into the trees. He reached up and snapped off a twig, then another, as he followed Illiken and Rose.
When they reached the end of the forest, the remaining princes and courtiers met them, helping Illiken hustle Rose toward the waiting boats. Rose broke free, pushing aside the courtiers and running back toward the trees. Galen met her halfway, pulling her into his arms and covering her with the cloak as well. The court of the underworld gasped as the princess vanished.
“I can see you, gardener,” Illiken shouted. He came striding up the beach. Like his father, he was squinting at a spot near where Galen and Rose stood, as though he knew they were there but couldn’t quite make them out.
“What will we do?” Rose whispered.
“Wait,” he whispered back. Galen could feel her heart pounding against his chest. He dropped his arm from her waist, pulled a knife from his belt, and scratched blindly at the side of the silver twig.
“Aha!” Illiken reached out, his arms wide, as though to embrace them both, still squinting.
Galen’s right arm snapped up, and he pierced Illiken through the heart with the twig, on which he had just scrawled the prince’s name. Not waiting to see if it worked
, Galen wheeled around, keeping Rose under the shelter of his left arm, and ran with her back into the trees. They kept to the shadows, avoiding the path where pale-faced guards searched for them.
“They daren’t spend too much time among the trees,” Rose whispered as they approached the gate.
They huddled under the spreading branches of the tree nearest the gate. One of the princes stood between them and freedom. With one hand, Galen fished in his satchel for the chain.
“When he looks the other way, run for the gate,” he told Rose, who nodded.
Galen tossed a bullet out into the path. The prince jerked and went to get a better look at it. Rose burst out of Galen’s arms and flew through the gate, with Galen hard on her heels. The prince turned, shouting, as Galen clanged the gate shut.
“I am the King Under Stone now,” the gaunt figure hissed, grabbing the latch from his side. “You cannot stop me!” The color faded from his hair as he spoke.
Galen didn’t answer. Steadily he passed one end of the black wool chain through the bars and around the back of the gatepost.
The new king drew back with a cry. “What is that? How have you …?” He winced and blinked as though the dull black wool burned his eyes.
Still not speaking, Galen wrapped the chain twice more, then slipped one link through another and cinched it tight. From his satchel Galen pulled the final piece of his plan: his mother’s little silver crucifix. He jabbed it into the woolen knot. The silver flared bright and the chain turned from wool to steel.
“There,” Galen said, feeling a rush of fierce joy as the new King Under Stone drew back with a scream of rage. “That will hold.”
Taking Rose by the arm, Galen led her up the golden stairs to the princesses’ sitting room. Her sisters were all in a circle around the rug, faces gray with fright. They shrieked with joy to see Galen and Rose emerge, running to embrace the two and kiss their cheeks.
Pansy flung herself into Galen’s arms and sobbed into his neck. “I knew you’d save us.”
“It’s all over now, don’t you worry,” Galen said, stroking Pansy’s hair. Over her head, he saw Daisy watching with a disapproving eye. He winked at her, and she blinked. His arms shaking from exhaustion, he put Pansy down, but she clung to his hand.
“We’ll only have to go back tomorrow night,” Hyacinth said in a hollow voice.
“No, we won’t,” Rose told her. “Galen chained the gate shut. We’re never going back, and no one can come after us.”
The princesses cheered, all except for Hyacinth. She fetched an oil lamp and threw it on the maze-patterned rug without warning. The silk burst into flame, making the other girls shriek and jump out of the way. Galen rushed into one of the bedrooms and grabbed a heavy blanket from one of the beds to smother the fire, but he waited until the rug had been thoroughly burned before tossing down the blanket and stamping on it.
“Very clever, Your Highness,” Galen said to Hyacinth once the fire was out.
“You may call me Hyacinth,” she said, giving him a tremulous smile. She stepped forward and laid a timid hand on his arm.
Galen smiled back, bent, and kissed her thin cheek. Then, for good measure, he turned and kissed Rose.
On the lips.
Truth
As Rose looked around, blushing and wishing that she hadn’t had her first kiss in front of all her sisters (nice as it was), she saw something that startled her. Maria, their maid, was sitting up in her chair and staring at them.
It was not yet dawn.
“Your Highnesses have returned!” Maria shrieked. She clasped her hands to her bosom and began to cry.
“Maria, you’re awake!” Rose took a step toward the woman but still clung to Galen’s hand. To Rose this seemed even more miraculous than their delivery from the kingdom Under Stone.
Maria frowned around the room through her tears. “Well, the other maids and I waited here in case you returned. I can’t believe I slept at all, with all the fuss these past few days.” She gave the charred remains of the rug an odd look. “What have my ladies been doing, if I may ask?”
Rose took a deep breath. Here was the first test, to see if the underworld’s power over them was truly broken. “We were the prisoners of the King Under Stone,” Rose said, quite clearly.
Maria gasped in shock. So did Rose’s sisters.
“Rose! You told!” Petunia danced up and down.
“You can say it! We can say it!” Jonquil clapped her hands to her cheeks.
“God be praised,” said Hyacinth, and sank to her knees. She began to pray.
Maria crossed herself. “So Master Werner was right.” She nodded at Galen. “The king has been in a taking since you shouted out that name in the council this morning, Master Werner, but I don’t know if anyone other than myself and two or three maids believed you.”
Releasing Galen’s hand, Rose crossed to her faithful maid and hugged the woman. “Oh, Maria, it’s been simply awful. But it’s all over now.” She turned back to the others. “We must go to Father at once!”
In the hallway outside their rooms, Rose found Walter Vogel sitting on a chair, an ancient musket in his hands. He got to his feet and bowed stiffly to them. Two guards lay nearby, one with a swollen nose and the other with a bruised jaw.
“Walter! What are you doing here?” Rose put a hand to her throat, startled.
“Funny thing, that,” Walter said calmly. “I was sitting at home, smoking my pipe, when there was a knock at the door. An old woman of my acquaintance had come to tell me to get out my musket and bring it to the palace. ‘The princesses need guarding,’ she told me. ‘You keep folks out of their rooms so that Galen can do his job.’” Walter shrugged. “And I did.”
“I could have used some help down there,” Galen said.
“I’m an old, old man, Galen,” Walter said quietly. “Which I think you know. If I’d gone down with you, it would have finished me, and there are still things I must do. Under Stone was not the only one of his kind.” The wrinkled face broke into a grin. “And it seems that you did admirably on your own.”
“Yes, he did,” Rose agreed.
“That bishop’s with your father in the council chamber now,” Walter warned.
“Good,” Rose said. “Walter, I want plenty of witnesses. Will you please come with us?”
“Of course, Your Highness.”
Rose led the procession down the hall to the council chamber and entered without knocking. Inside King Gregor sat, not in his usual tall carved chair, but in a smaller chair in the middle of the room. The normally gruff king seemed pale and cowed.
The king’s customary chair was occupied by Bishop Angier, who presided over the room with obvious satisfaction. The prime minister and a half dozen of their father’s chief councillors were also in attendance, looking variously mutinous or humble, as though they had all been chastised by the bishop.
But even Angier looked stunned by the sudden entrance of Rose, her sisters, Galen, Maria, and Walter. Rose found their shock quite enjoyable, and stood there for a moment to let them all get a good look. She knew that she and her sisters looked awful: their strange dark gowns torn and muddied with sparkling black dirt, faces smudged and sweaty, hair in disarray. Galen had gunpowder stains on his cheek, and Lily’s hands were black with it.
“Father,” Rose said finally, after everyone had stared enough and she could see Angier starting to swell up prior to making a declaration. She curtsied. Her sisters and maid followed suit; Galen and Walter bowed. “We have returned.”
“Returned? From dancing with the devil?” Angier’s voice had lost some of its force.
Rose didn’t take her eyes off her father, though. “We have long been under a curse, Father,” she said. “But it is broken now.”
King Gregor looked anxiously at Rose, and then beyond her at his other daughters. “It’s over?”
“It’s over,” Rose told him firmly. She took Galen’s arm and drew him forward. “Thanks to Master Werner.”
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Relief washed over King Gregor’s face. The councillors began babbling all at once, and Angier got to his feet, pounding a meaty fist on the arm of his chair and shouting for silence.
“I will conduct this inquiry,” the bishop insisted.
“What inquiry?” King Gregor’s voice cut through the noisy room. “My daughters have come with joyous news for me. There is no need for an inquiry.” He sat up straight and smoothed his coat, his gray, worried complexion clearing minute by minute. “Master Werner, were your words this morning true? Have you at last discovered where my daughters go at night?”
“This is nonsense! These girls have learned the ways of the devil from that Bretoner woman,” Angier ranted. “You are fortunate, Gregor, that your station protects you and your daughters—”
“Now, Brother Angier, let us not be too quick to condemn,” said a soft voice. In the far corner of the room, as though cast aside by his more flamboyant brother in the church, Bishop Schelker stood. That good man, who had baptized Rose and all her sisters, smiled with relief at the princesses as he came forward.
“Bishop Angier, I confess myself a bit disturbed by the cavalier way in which you seem to have declared King Gregor and his young daughters guilty.” His mild blue eyes fixed on Angier, who began to turn very red.
“The archbishop has full confidence in my judgment!” Angier roared.
“Does he?” Schelker pulled a scroll from his sleeve. “I have a letter here from His Holiness, Angier. It arrived just moments ago. He asks how our joint investigation of this matter is proceeding. His Holiness also makes reference to the instructions that you were to deliver to me, which I never received.”
Angier swallowed and then straightened his cuffs. “Well, Schelker—”
Bishop Schelker interrupted him. “It seems that the archbishop has long been concerned with your overzealous methods in investigating matters of witchcraft, and that you were not his first choice to take care of this matter. But his first choice, and his second, were both quite suddenly indisposed. This naturally has made His Holiness suspicious. In addition to making certain that King Gregor and his daughters are treated with all respect, he asks me to keep an eye on you and to put a halt to matters if I think you have overstepped your bounds. And I believe that you have.” Schelker never raised his voice. “Guards. Please escort His Excellency to his rooms, and make sure he stays there. Father Michel, too.”