“You most certainly cannot.” For a moment, Ellen sounded more like a mother than a servant. She put her hands on her hips and looked Phleg directly in the eye. Then she seemed to remember she was a serving maid, talking to a royal. “You may, however, wear some of your house slippers,” she said more diffidently. “They are made from wool.”
The slippers were blue-and-gold brocade, a softer blue than her dress, which Ellen seemed to think made them only barely appropriate. But besides being made of something that wasn’t dead animal, they didn’t pinch.
“There!” Phleg said. “That was a chore, wasn’t it! Now what?”
“Now,” Ellen said, sounding a bit weary, though it was still only early morning, “breakfast.”
Phleg’s stomach rumbled at the thought of food. Ellen pretended not to hear, though her face showed she had. “Where’s that?” Phleg asked.
“Where’s what?”
“Where’s breakfast?”
“The solarium. Same as every other morning.”
Phleg pointed to her head as an excuse for not knowing. And pointed again when she needed to ask, “And, remind me, where’s the solarium?”
Ellen sighed. Loudly. “I’ll take you.”
This was a good decision, as the castle the princess lived in was vast, much larger than the home Phleg had left behind. And filled with so many things! She would have to remember everything so she could gloat to her siblings about all she’d seen. (Wouldn’t last three days, indeed!) There were tables and cupboards and mirrors and bookcases and vases with flowers, and stairs to go up and down, and rugs to be careful not to trip over. Being taller than she was used to, Phleg had trouble gauging exactly how high doorways and ceilings were, and how many strides it would take to get across a space. As a consequence she repeatedly ducked, convinced she couldn’t possibly fit through doorways that proved perfectly adequate to allow passage to even a whopping big princess, and she kept stubbing her toes against the legs of pieces of furniture.
“Too bad you’re wearing those light slippers instead of regular shoes,” Ellen observed, after one such collision made Phleg yowl in pain and exasperation. “Dead animals go a long way toward protecting feet.”
“It’s not nice to make fun of someone with a bumped head,” Phleg told her.
By the time they got to the solarium, they were told they had just missed the king, who had needed to get about his daily duties. These included taking someone called Leopold on a hunting trip. (More dead animals, Phleg noted.)
The queen was just about ready to leave, too. If Phleg could pull this off, the queen would be her mumsy for the next three days. Still, she seemed more like Aunt Sylvimit than Mumsy, as she was dressed very elegantly and didn’t look at all tired out and ready to bite someone’s head off. Nor did she say, If you’re going to be late for a meal, then I guess you aren’t all that hungry. What she said was a bright, “There you are, Gabriella,” accompanied by a kiss that missed Phleg’s cheek by at least the width of a hand. That was very Aunt Sylvimit. “I’ll see you later, as our schedules permit.”
“Sure,” Phleg said, feeling slightly relieved. Fooling a mother would be the hardest task a changeling could face.
And she was right to be concerned: Even her one-word response was enough to make the queen pause on her way out of the room. “Are you quite all right, darling?”
“I bumped my head.”
This was the wrong thing to say, as far as getting the queen to leave. “Oh, you poor dear.” Gabriella’s mother came and peered closely at Phleg’s face, gently brushing the long hair away from her forehead. “It doesn’t look very bad.”
“It’s not,” Phleg assured her, because it wasn’t—but also so that she would leave.
“Well, you just take it easy today,” the queen advised. “Ellen will arrange with the secretary to take everything off your schedule.” She kissed Phleg again, and this time her lips actually made contact with skin. “You just sit here with Amanda as long as you want, and do whatever the two of you wish.” She lowered her voice as though sharing a secret. “It will be a day off.”
Not trusting words, since she’d apparently aroused suspicion already, Phleg nodded. She didn’t ask who Amanda was, as there was a girl who looked about her own age who was sitting at the table grinning at her. Phleg nodded at her, too, for good measure.
The queen took a moment longer before removing the hand she held so gently against Phleg’s cheek, but then she had to go, trailed by the majority of the people who’d been in the room with her, leaving only Phleg, Ellen, and Amanda.
“Is there anything more you need, Your Highness?” Ellen asked Phleg. “Or shall I see about rearranging your schedule?”
Phleg nodded again, since she’d been having such good luck with that. After a moment’s hesitation, Ellen took the gesture to mean the latter, and she too left.
Was this Amanda who was sitting at the table another servant? Phleg decided not, as serving staff entered the room bearing trays of pastries, and warm buttered bread, and eggs, and a pitcher of what looked to be that same delicious sweet milk that she’d had in her room. Not one of them took a seat at the table. Amanda must be a guest. Probably one of the real Princess Gabriella’s friends.
“Your Highness?” asked the server carrying the pastries.
Phleg nodded.
Which, in this case, was apparently the wrong answer. The man quirked an eyebrow at her. “Which would you like?”
Did he mean she had to choose only one of the pastries, or did she have to choose between pastries, warm bread, and eggs? In either case, this made no sense, as there were no brothers and sisters who needed sharing with.
She said, “I’ll take them all.”
“One of each?” he asked.
“All.”
The servers scurried to make room in front of her, and set down their heaping trays, arrayed in all their glory before her.
“Well done,” Amanda whispered at her as the servers left, and for a moment Phleg thought she meant in selecting all the food. But then she saw that Amanda had only one piece of buttered bread on her plate. Had she eaten all the rest of her food already?
Phleg gave Amanda the same quirked eyebrow look the server had given her.
“Getting out of your lessons and speeches and meetings and so forth,” Amanda clarified. “I have to admit: I didn’t really believe you’d do it.”
“Do what?” Phleg asked, but she was distracted by all those pastries. She picked up a fruit tart that was about as big around as the palm of her hand. She suspected that if she bit it, it would crumble and flake, and pieces would end up falling on her. So she popped the whole thing in her mouth.
Amanda averted her gaze from the sight of Phleg chewing and explained, “I never thought you’d make an excuse to get out of your regularly scheduled tasks.”
When Phleg didn’t answer, making delighted-sounding moans over the deliciousness of the tart instead, Amanda added, “As I suggested.”
Phleg rolled her tongue over her teeth to make sure there were no tasty crumbs hiding between them and her lips.
Amanda said, “In that note I slipped under your door this morning.”
Phleg plucked a roll that had icing on the top and popped that into her mouth. Custard squished out from the middle, some making it as far away as her chin before Phleg’s tongue retrieved it. “Mmm!” she cried. Then she added, speaking around the custard, “Didn’t see a note.”
Amanda was fanning herself with a square of cloth, looking somewhat faint. These people who lived at the castle must be delicate that way, for squares of cloth had been provided by each place setting at the table. Still, Amanda seemed to be taking news of the lost note very hard.
Phleg explained, “I fell out of bed this morning, and my servant, Ellen, came in to help me get dressed. Maybe your note got shoved under something in all the commotion.” She nodded her chin toward Amanda’s breakfast, where the butter that had dripped off her toast was beginnin
g to congeal on the plate. “You going to eat that?” she asked.
“Be my guest,” Amanda said. Her voice sounded oddly strained, making Phleg wonder if she had been planning to eat. But if so, wouldn’t she just have warned, Hands off?
Phleg gobbled down the bread quickly, just in case Amanda was reconsidering, then licked the plate. “So what did this note say?” she asked, scooping a handful of the scrambled eggs out of the bowl. “This is good stuff. Want some?”
Amanda shook her head. She seemed to be having difficulty maintaining her train of thought. Probably, Phleg estimated, because she didn’t eat enough. “Uhm, I wrote to tell you that I heard Prince Frederic isn’t going on the hunt with the other men. That means we might have a chance to see him today. In the gardens. Without a chaperone.”
“Well, that is good news,” Phleg said, since Amanda seemed to think so, despite the fact that at the moment her face was turning an interesting shade of green as she watched Phleg eat. Phleg drank some of the milk—which was every bit as good as her first impression of it had been—then she wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “So who’s this Fred person?” she asked.
Amanda only looked at her without saying a word.
“Don’t know?” Phleg asked her. “Just heard the name and figured I’d be interested?”
Amanda had to try twice before she got her mouth and her vocal cords coordinated. “Prince Frederic,” Amanda finally got out, “is the young man to whom you’re betrothed.”
Betrothed? Princess Gabriella was scheduled to get married? Not in the next three days, Phleg hoped. That would nudge the situation beyond complicated all the way into disastrous.
Phleg nodded solemnly. “Yes indeedy,” she told Amanda. “I’m glad to see you’re up to date on these things. Well done. I bet you even know when.”
“Of course not,” Amanda snapped. “Nobody does. The date hasn’t been set yet.”
“Ha!” Phleg said. “Trick question! Couldn’t trick you, though.” She took a big gulp of milk as an excuse to stop talking.
Perhaps a bit too big a gulp.
Phleg couldn’t figure out about the white cloth covering the table. She had already deduced that the smaller cloths set to the side of each dish were there in case someone needed to fan herself, given that people—at least castle people—seemed highly strung and excitable and in frequent need of fanning. But the big cloth had the dishes sitting on it, so you had to lean way down in order to blow your nose into it if—as had just occurred with Phleg—you happened to gulp your milk too quickly and started coughing and sneezing.
And now the princess’s friend Amanda slammed her hand down on the table, forcefully enough that the nearest dishes and utensils bounced, and the spoon that was in the bowl of scrambled eggs flipped up and out, splattering egg onto the white cloth. Very impractical, that white cloth.
Phleg slid her hand under the gooey eggy glob and helpfully stuffed it into her mouth, so that the only evidence left on the cloth was a yellow stain rather than actual foodstuffs.
Rather than thanking her, Amanda made a gagging sound. If she was feeling unwell, that explained why she was not eating. But it didn’t explain the hand slamming. “What is the matter with you?” Amanda demanded. “I have never seen you in such a peculiar and contrary mood.”
It was way, way too early for people to be getting suspicious. Phleg had been impersonating the princess for not even one morning long. How would she ever last three days at this rate? And she’d been doing such a good job. She considered what she might do to set the girl’s doubts to rest. This was difficult, given that Phleg didn’t know why Amanda was suspicious. So Phleg decided to admit her ignorance: She said, “Dunno.”
Amanda sighed. Loudly. “Be that way,” she snapped.
So that was good. “All right,” Phleg said, since agreeing was the opposite of being contrary.
But, then again, maybe not.
Amanda slapped the table once again, though this time the utensils stayed mostly put. Alerted either by Amanda’s raised voice or the rattling cutlery, one of the servants was approaching from his station by the door, where he was positioned so as not to intrude on mealtime conversation. Amanda waved him away before he got there, then she leaned closer to hiss at Phleg, “I’m supposed to be your best friend. You’re supposed to tell me everything.”
“Um … ”
Clearly Amanda was waiting for more.
So Phleg continued, “You are. I do,” even though she wasn’t exactly sure what a best friend was. Her family kept to themselves for the most part, meaning she knew more relatives than unrelated fairies. Phleg would be hard pressed to say which of her siblings or cousins or aunts or uncles was the least annoying, never mind which she liked best.
“What’s going on?” Amanda demanded.
“I’m eating,” Phleg explained. “And you’re not.” Clearly Amanda was slow, and allowances needed to be made. Phleg spoke one word at a time, loudly and distinctly. “I thought, once we finished, we were going to spy on that Fred person you mentioned. But I don’t know what you plan to do with the information you get from watching him.” Phleg and her brothers and sisters sometimes spied on each other. If they were lucky, they learned things they could use against one another.
Amanda stood. “I never said anything about spying on Prince Frederic.”
Phleg didn’t ask why, then, they should be interested. She said, “I’m not quite finished eat—”
Amanda cut her off. “I shall be with my mother and the other ladies-in-waiting when you’re feeling more yourself.” She strode away from the table, slamming the door as she left.
What an odd thing to say, Phleg thought. Who else would anyone feel like except herself?
She glanced at the servant who’d gone back to his place by the door. He raised his eyebrows ever so slightly, which may or may not have meant that he, too, thought Amanda’s actions were mystifying.
Phleg shrugged and finished eating all the eggs and toast and pastries that had been set out on the table, including Amanda’s cup of milk.
The servant approached and asked, “Should I get more from the kitchen, Princess Gabriella?”
Startled, Phleg looked over her shoulder, but then remembered she was Princess Gabriella for the time being, and the man was talking to her. “Is there more?” she asked.
“Whatever you want,” the servant assured her, “whenever you want it.”
Whenever …
“There’s enough for the midday meal?” she asked.
The man blinked, but otherwise his expression didn’t change. “Of course, my lady. Supper, also.”
“Of course,” she repeated, as a princess might. “That’s as it should be. I’m through for now.”
“Very good, my lady.” He pulled her chair away from the table, which was a favorite trick of her brothers, so Phleg saw it coming. She jumped to her feet so that she didn’t fall off.
“Where should I go now?” she asked.
“Wherever you want, my lady.”
Where did someone who didn’t have to cook and clean and do laundry and tend to both animals and younger siblings—where did such a person go?
Amanda had said she was going to be with the ladies-in-waiting but had not explained what they were waiting for. Generally, Phleg didn’t like waiting, and besides, Amanda seemed too moody. It was hard to guess what Princess Gabriella saw in her.
But Amanda had also said Fred-who-was-betrothed-to-Princess-Gabriella was going to be in the garden.
“I will go to the garden,” Phleg announced.
“Very good, my lady.”
“Of course it’s good,” Phleg said. “I wouldn’t have decided it otherwise. Only … ”
“My lady?”
Phleg considered. She must act like a princess, so as not to arouse suspicion. “Of course, because I am the princess, I know where the garden is. I know where it is so well that I could give anyone directions on how to get there. But I’m wondering if you, as a s
ervant, are able to give other people, maybe people who might be visiting the castle for the first time, good directions.”
The servant looked somewhat befuddled, but he got over it quickly. “The garden is by the west wing of the castle, my lady.”
“No, no,” she said. “Pretend I don’t know where anything is. Pretend I’m standing here, and I’m a first-time visitor, and I want to go to the garden. Which is … where … exactly?”
Any of her siblings would have said outside, but the servant was more helpful. He directed her to the door that was best to leave by (the room had four doors to choose from), and how many doorways she then had to pass before turning right. He even indicated with a small flick of his hand which direction right was, just in case she had trouble remembering. Then he instructed her to head down the stairs. The open doorway to outside would be directly in front of her.
There was a whole other set of directions for once she was outside.
“Very good,” Phleg said. “You know your directions well, especially considering how many rooms this castle has.”
“Your father is a wealthy man,” the servant told her.
The comment took Phleg by surprise, since most people—including Mumsy—called her father an idle loser. But in a moment she had caught up: The servant was talking about the king, Princess Gabriella’s father. She had to keep her mind from wandering, lest she say something unprincesslike and give herself away.
“Well,” she said, “toodles.” That was how her aunt, Mumsy’s sister, said good-bye. And Phleg’s Aunt Sylvimit was the most refined member the family had.
Phleg counted the doorways correctly, made it down the stairs without tripping, and succeeded in finding the outside. She had some trouble determining which was the “really big tree” the servant had told her about—obviously, the man had not spent much time in the deep woods—but eventually she found the garden.
Somehow or other she missed the pergola entrance that the servant had described, with its honeysuckle climbing up the latticework arch, so she had to squeeze in between a cluster of lavender and a rhododendron to make it onto the path. The garden was much too ordered for Phleg’s taste, with gillyflowers in pots rather than allowed to vine where they would, but she knew that was the way people liked things. The colors weren’t as bright to her human eyes as they would have been to her fairy eyes, and the fragrances not as strong as she would have expected, but it was still all so lovely that for a while she forgot why she had come.