Violet Eyes

  “I wish I felt perfect,” Violet joked.

  Genevieve hugged her. “You’re going to be just fine. I know they’re going to choose you.”

  “A dog didn’t happen to tell you that, did he?” Violet asked weakly.

  “No, but he might as well have. You’re the best choice for Richard, for Cambria, in every way.”

  “Thanks. Now let’s just hope that the king and queen agree.”

  The steward announced, “It’s time,” before exiting as swiftly as he had entered.

  Violet sighed. “I have a bad feeling about this,” she admitted.

  “It’s going to work out; you’ll see. Just be yourself,” Genevieve said.

  As Violet swept out of the room, she was surprised to find Arianna and Goldie waiting for her in the hallway.

  “You didn’t think we’d miss your moment of triumph, did you?” Arianna asked with a smile.

  They all linked arms and walked to the throne room. Once inside, Violet advanced down the length of the room, as her three friends moved to take their places in the gathering crowd of onlookers. Violet stood before the king and queen. She knew that Genevieve and her maids had done their best, but the series of nightmares had taken its toll. Violet just hoped she looked better than she felt. A murmur rippled through the crowd, and she turned to see Celeste enter.

  The other girl had never looked more stunning. Violet held back a sigh of frustration. Celeste seemed to float along the floor rather than walk. Her skin was porcelain and radiant. Even Celeste’s hand that had suffered the sunburn seemed restored.

  Standing next to Violet, Celeste gave her a pitying smile. Violet turned and looked back at Richard and his parents, who were seated on the three thrones. Richard looked tired and haggard, as though he hadn’t slept at all. He stared at Violet intently, as if trying to send her a message with his eyes, but she couldn’t read his expression.

  “Good morning,” the queen said, addressing them both.

  “Good morning,” Celeste and Violet both responded.

  “Violet, how did you sleep?”

  Violet smiled. “It was the most comfortable bed I have ever slept on. It would have been perfect except I was troubled by nightmares most of the night.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” the queen said. She turned to Celeste. “And what about you, dear? How did you sleep?”

  “It was dreadful, Your Majesty. I tossed and turned but could find no rest, for something was poking into my back and caused me such pain that I am bruised all over.”

  “How terrible,” the queen said.

  “Fortunately, I found this under the bottom mattress,” Celeste said, holding up a hard, wrinkled black pea. “Once I removed it, I slept beautifully.”

  “No nightmares for you, then?” the king asked.

  “Not one.”

  Violet stared in horror at the pea in Celeste’s hand. A final test. And she had failed. A final test. And she hadn’t even thought to check under the mattresses. Violet should have known the moment she saw the towering stack that there was something wrong.

  She hung her head. She had lost. Not only had she lost Richard, but she had also put the daughter of Lore onto the Cambrian throne.

  There was a long silence. There was a rustling of cloth, and Violet looked up as the queen descended from her throne and came to stand before Celeste. The queen took the pea from Celeste’s hand and held it aloft for all to see. Then, very carefully, she stepped back up onto the dais, where she presented the king with the pea before reclaiming her throne.

  The king turned the pea over in his hand before closing his fist around it. “Violet.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty?”

  “Did you find a pea under your mattresses?”

  She shook her head in misery. “I felt nothing beneath the mattresses, so I did not think to look.”

  She glanced at Richard and could tell from his stricken expression that he’d had no advance knowledge of this test.

  The king addressed Celeste. “Your cold and suspicious heart has led you to look for something under the mattress and brought you to find this pea. And that is exactly what you shall take away from here. No one is capable of feeling a pea beneath twenty mattresses. Not physically, at any rate.”

  The king turned to Violet. “This pea, like the pea that was placed under the mattresses in the room you slept in last night, is enchanted. For those with true nobility of spirit, it gives them nightmares. First your character and now your spirit have been tested, and we find you worthy to marry our son.”

  Violet was sure she had misheard. She turned to look at Richard, and the joy on his face told her that she hadn’t. She heard squeals of joy from her friends, who were watching. Before Violet could say anything in response, a man wearing a crown swaggered forward.

  “I am Gustav, king of Lore, and you cannot choose this girl over my daughter. She’s not even a princess!”

  Violet felt white hot anger flash through her toward the king of Lore. He was responsible for the slaughter of the Cambrian royal family, her family.

  “Actually, she is a princess,” Richard said, rising. “She is the true princess of Cambria.” Prince Richard signaled and the crowd parted to reveal a familiar face.

  “Father Paul!” Violet exclaimed.

  The priest smiled at Violet and then turned to address the others. The crowd that had begun to applaud quieted as people stared from him to Gustav and back.

  “The night of the massacre, a nursemaid, whom I knew, rescued the infant princess from the castle. She came to me in confidence for help, and I advised her to place the child in the hands of a loyal farmer and his wife, whom I trusted. I tried to throw any assassins off of the nursemaid’s trail as I rendered aid to the injured at the castle. Shortly after seeing the child safe, the woman, Eve, died of an injury she sustained in the flight. She is buried in the churchyard. Violet is the child she carried away from the castle that night. Violet is the true heir of Cambria.”

  Stunned, Violet watched as Richard’s parents stood from their thrones and then bowed to her. Richard did so a moment later. Her heart began to pound as all around her people knelt down. Violet saw Genevieve, Goldie, and Arianna, who all flashed her huge smiles before kneeling too. Violet turned slowly in a circle, looking at all who knelt before her. All except one. She stared for a moment at King Gustav and knew something was wrong.

  “Time to finish what was started,” the king of Lore roared, drawing his sword.

  He leaped at her and grabbed her by the throat. Violet struggled, twisting in his strong arms and scratching at the king’s eyes. A dozen Lorian “nobles” shed their cloaks to reveal the clothes of soldiers. They circled Violet, swords brandished. Too late she recognized all of Celeste’s guests for what they really were.

  With a shout Richard ordered the Cambrian men present to fight. Violet bit Gustav’s hand. He roared in pain and then struck her across the temple with the hilt of his sword. Everything went black.

  Richard tried to reach Violet, but too many fighters blocked his way. He shouted in rage as he saw Gustav strike his beloved. Her body went limp, and Gustav tossed her over his shoulder before disappearing with Celeste at his side.

  A moment later more men wielding swords poured into the great hall. Richard grabbed a sword and began to fight his way through the Lorian soldiers, heading for the spot where he had last seen King Gustav. Nobles from several countries scurried to get away from the fighting, while others drew weapons and joined the fray, trying to fight off the Lorian soldiers.

  Richard kept twisting and turning, trying to make his way after Gustav and Violet. He passed Arianna, who was brandishing a weapon of her own and trying to get Genevieve and several others clear of the fighting. Richard finally reached the exit to the hall and saw Gustav disappear into the gardens with Violet still over his shoulder.

  Violet woke as she hit the ground. It was raining. Another storm had come, and the king of Lore was trying to finish what he had started
during a storm so many years before. She drew in a ragged breath and couldn’t believe she was about to die. She opened her eyes and looked up at King Gustav and Celeste. Her head was throbbing, and a thin trickle of blood was dripping into her eye. She blinked fiercely. The father and daughter, arguing about where to go next, didn’t notice that Violet was stirring.

  Violet glanced around her. She was in the castle garden, not that far from the fountain. She sat up slowly, but neither Gustav nor Celeste paid her any attention. Coiling her muscles, Violet sprang to her feet and began to run.

  There were shouts behind her, which spurred her on faster. In front of Violet she saw the outer wall of the hedge maze. She ran along the side of it until she found an opening and then dashed inside. Two quick left turns, followed by a right, and then Violet slowed so that she could get her bearings—and listen for her pursuers.

  Violet heard Gustav and Celeste enter the maze, quarreling, and she tried to determine which path they took by listening for their footsteps. Her temple hurt, and she was feeling light-headed, but Violet walked deeper into the maze, and the blackness of the sky caused it to grow as dark as night. The rain further obscured her vision.

  Violet pictured the part of the maze she had already traveled. Beneath her feet a twig snapped, and Violet halted for a moment.

  “That was her!” Gustav bellowed from somewhere in the leafy maze.

  “Yes, but where?” Celeste asked, frustration in her voice.

  “How should I know? You’re the one who has been at the castle. How come you’ve never explored the maze?”

  “I didn’t think it was going to be necessary,” Celeste retorted.

  Violet began to move again but stepped more gingerly. She shook her head. Back when she was a farmer’s daughter, she had thought about entering the maze contest for the Feasting. Now she was a princess. Instead of racing through the maze in an attempt to win a prize, she was slinking through the maze in an attempt to save her life.

  Sounds of fighting began to reach her ears, and she realized there must have been more Lorian soldiers present than anyone could have guessed. Again Cambria was at war with Lore. This time, though, Violet swore that no one in the royal family would come to harm.

  The storm intensified until she couldn’t see at all. Violet paused. She placed a hand on each hedge wall and kicked off her shoes so that she could better feel the ground. Mud oozed between her toes. She continued moving even though she could no longer see anything. When she came to a break in the wall, she took the path.

  Violet could hear Gustav as he moved through the maze, but she could no longer hear Celeste. She sensed something move in the path ahead of her. Violet froze and strained ears and eyes. She realized, almost too late, that Gustav and Celeste had split up.

  Violet held her breath and moved forward on silent feet. When she was close enough to touch Celeste, she tapped her on the shoulder. The other girl twisted with an exclamation, and Violet hit her as hard as she could.

  Celeste crumpled silently to the ground, and Violet stepped over her and kept moving. She would send someone to fetch her when the situation was under control. Violet could hear the fighting just outside the maze walls and prayed that Richard was safe.

  Then she heard Gustav shout. It sounded like he might have tripped over Celeste. This gave Violet an idea. She felt for and found a slight hollow at the bottom of one of the hedge walls. She lay down and pushed her body flush with the wall. And then she waited.

  Violet stayed still for what felt like an eternity. But she heard Gustav’s footsteps before she could see him. She held her breath as he approached and then walked by her. It was then that Violet reached out and grabbed King Gustav’s ankle, yanking it backward as hard as she could, with a twist.

  There was a snap as he fell with a scream. Violet leaped to her feet and snatched King Gustav’s sword from his hand. She swung it with the thought of killing him. At the last moment she twisted her wrist and knocked him unconscious, as he had done to her. She turned and ran back to the entrance of the maze, retracing her steps.

  Richard met her there, sword drawn and breathing ragged.

  “Are you okay?” they asked each other simultaneously.

  “Yes,” she said, kissing him.

  When they broke apart, Violet told Richard where she had left Gustav and Celeste in the maze and that they needed attention.

  “The fighting’s almost over. Most of the Lorian soldiers have been captured,” he said, sheathing his own sword and taking the one she still held.

  Several Cambrians ran to assist Violet and Prince Richard, and Richard directed them into the maze to fetch the Lorian king and his daughter. Then Richard and Violet made their way back to the castle.

  In the great hall Violet was reunited with Goldie, Genevieve, and Arianna, none the worse for wear. She looked for Father Paul, desperately wanting to talk to him, to ask him about her mother, but she didn’t see him.

  Everyone slowly regrouped in the throne room as servants and soldiers worked to clear the wounded. Celeste and her father were being treated elsewhere for their injuries, Violet learned, though their future was still uncertain. It seemed that several of the other nobles had opposed Gustav’s plan, wanting to continue the peace with Cambria.

  Once again seated on her throne, Queen Martha looked unruffled, as though they had only been discussing the weather instead of fighting for their lives. King Charles, like his son, was slightly disheveled from the fighting. With a start Violet saw that Father Paul was with them.

  “Now, where were we?” the king inquired.

  Father Paul cleared his throat. “Last night the prince went to the home of Violet’s adopted parents. I was staying the night after having given her mother a new herbal potion to try and ease her pain.”

  “How is she?” Violet interrupted, not caring if it was princesslike or not, just needing to know.

  Father Paul smiled at her. “When I left, she seemed to be doing better. I think there’s cause to hope even that she might recover.”

  Violet felt her knees buckle, and she sagged against Arianna in relief.

  Father Paul resumed his story. “Prince Richard shared everything that had transpired here during the competition, and he asked whether or not it could be proved that Violet was the true princess of Cambria. Given everything that has transpired, I knew the time had finally arrived to reveal my part in the child’s disappearance. I have known the truth and have kept it secret for seventeen years. Violet is the princess.”

  “It’s so hard to believe,” Violet whispered.

  “It is you,” Father Paul assured her. “I came back with Richard so that I could tell what I knew.”

  “And we thank you,” the queen said.

  “Thank you, Father Paul,” Violet said, voice trembling.

  “I never intended to keep your whereabouts a secret forever, my dear; just until I knew that it was safe,” he said with a smile. “Prince Richard convinced me that it was.”

  “Not as safe as I thought,” Richard grimaced.

  “And my mother might recover?”

  “It looks very good. Of course, it would help if she had constant care and good food. That’s why Prince Richard has arranged for your parents to arrive here tomorrow morning to help you celebrate.”

  “Celebrate?” Violet asked.

  “Our wedding,” Richard said, moving next to Violet and taking her hand in his. The look that he gave her sent shivers through her, and she began to smile.

  111

  After dinner Violet and Richard found a stolen moment alone. He led her upstairs, navigating swiftly through the maze of hallways, but wouldn’t tell her where they were going.

  “Does this have something to do with that surprise you promised me?” she asked.

  He smiled. “Yes, it does.”

  A minute later they were standing inside one of the private chambers. “These are my rooms, soon to be ours,” Richard said.

  Violet felt herself blus
h.

  “I wanted to show you this,” he said, indicating a large tapestry on the wall near his writing desk.

  She studied it and after only a moment realized it depicted the assassination of her parents. Richard stood quietly beside her as she looked at it.

  “I looked at this tapestry every day as a child,” he murmured. “And yet I was blind to the most significant detail until just recently.”

  “What is that?” Violet asked.

  He pointed toward the far side. “There, the woman holding the baby, leaving the room.”

  “Yes?”

  “The child has a crown on her head. And she is very much alive as opposed to her parents. Violet, that’s you.”

  Violet raised her hand to touch the weaving. Me, that was me, smuggled out of the castle right under the noses of the murderers. She felt tears sting her eyes as she said a silent thank-you to the nurse, Eve. Had the weaver known or guessed that Violet had survived that night?

  To Richard she said, “Thank you.”

  The whole kingdom was poised to celebrate the High Feast like never before. The return of the princess and the new victory over Lore had spurred the people on to increased zeal, and the festivities of the first two days of the Feasting had been larger and noisier than anyone could ever remember. Violet had even managed to get her new friends into the kitchen to try their hands at pie baking for the contest. The cooks had looked on in dismay as Genevieve, Goldie, and Arianna got more flour on themselves than in the pies.

  When High Feast Day, the third day of the festival, arrived, Violet was breathless with excitement and anticipation. “How do I look?” Violet asked, smoothing down her dress. The gown was white with ribbons of green and gold—the national colors of Cambria—streaming from the bodice and flowing toward the floor. Matching ribbons of green and gold had been braided into her hair, which Genevieve and all three of her maids had spent an hour on. The skirts of Violet’s dress were so full that she had trouble moving about her room without knocking things over. She had asked to be allowed to spend the last few days in her room with Genevieve prior to the wedding, and her friend had already picked up half a dozen things that Violet’s skirts had knocked over that morning.