The Twelve Dancing Princesses (Faerie Tale Collection)

  Casey seemed surprised he knew so much about the goings-on of his own family, but perhaps he did not. Mayhap they were hiding more than he could imagine.

  He tucked an arm under his head and blinked toward the window, where a small stream of bluish moonlight poured into the darkened room. The next morning he would need to make a surprise visit to his mother. Hopefully he would be able to catch her early enough that he could get a few answers out before Rebecca or the others awoke.

  There. He could already feel his mind shutting down. It was not the solution he was after, but it was response enough to be able to silence his thoughts and push them aside until later.

  ***

  WILHELMINA LITTLEHAM, ALECK’S MOTHER, silently opened the front door of her cottage. Her heart pounded as she looked down the shadowy lane, first right, and then left. Once she was positive there was no one about, she quickly placed the hood of her dark cloak upon her head and scurried across the road to a little hidden path between two large hedges.

  She followed the rather twisted route for a few miles, using the moonlight to guide her until she came to an old abandoned tavern. At one time, the tavern was a main stopping point, full of life and activity. But since the road it served led to a community cursed with the plague many years before, it now lay abandoned and forgotten. It was the perfect place for a secret rendezvous. And these days, it was only used for just such imprudent and dangerous dealings.

  Her hands shook as she stepped out into the weed-strewn gravel yard that surrounded the rickety, two-story tavern. She dropped the hood lower over her brow so just her chin and mouth were visible and pulled the cloak tighter around her shoulders. One hand held the fabric in place so no one could recognize her clothing.

  “’Ere she is!” hissed a gruff voice nine or ten paces away from the window closest to her.

  She rushed toward the building. They always met in the southeast room on the bottom floor.

  “Whot’s took yous so long?” asked the other man she knew was in there.

  She never asked their names, as they would not tell her even if she did. “I had to wait until everyone was asleep,” she said as she approached the window that came to just above her waist.

  The men lowered a crate for her to climb up on.

  She held fast to her cloak as she stepped on top of the box and swung one leg over the window sill and then the other.

  The taller of the two men helped her inside the empty, musty room. She had never seen it in full daylight, but as it was, she was not sure she wanted to. Old, forgotten cobwebs dangled from a wooden ceiling that was rotting through. Several gaps and holes revealed the bare bedroom above them. This particular room had better floors than the rest, but that was not saying much. Great cracks revealed darkened spaces where the rotting floor gave way beneath their feet.

  “Did you bring me the information you said you would?” she asked the shorter, bulkier man as she pulled the hood lower.

  “Certainly.” He stepped toward her with a small packet in his hand. “Did you do what we asked?”

  Wilhelmina glanced over at the taller man. He leaned nonchalantly against the window as if he had not a care in the world, but he was effectively blocking any escape she might have had. Vowing to remain calm, she looked to the original door in the empty room. She could see the many large nails haphazardly protruding through its frame and surrounding walls where it had been nailed shut, attempting to keep riffraff out. All the windows had been boarded up as well, but it was clearly much easier to remove the planks of wood.

  “Of course I did,” she answered as she reached into her cloak pocket and handed over the small vial. “When have I not done what you asked of me?”

  “Good. Good.” The shorter man nodded. It had taken months to build up the trust of these men, but she could see by his smile he had learned to depend upon her. He did not cross-examine her every action, but left it at her word alone. This was a good sign. He handed her the packet.

  She quickly tucked it into the pocket of her cloak. She worried her lower lip between her teeth as she debated how best to relay the information her son had unknowingly given her.

  “Is that all, then?” the taller man asked. “’Twould be good to get home afore the missus awoke.”

  “I—just a moment.” She cleared her throat. “I do have something to report.”

  The shorter man folded his arms. “Aye? Whot?”

  She took a deep breath. “I have a rumor that the king is concerned for his daughters’ welfare.”

  “Whot d’ya mean?” The man stepped away from the window.

  “I mean, he feels they are not safe. It would appear they have been waking up for several nights with swollen feet and ruined shoes.”

  “No!” shouted the taller man as he walked over to the other. “What is this? They weren’t never supposed ta know.”

  “Are ya sure?” The shorter man looked at her.

  She nodded. “Yes, my son works at the castle; he said they are attempting to solve the mystery now.”

  “They can’t!” the taller one shouted. “We’re not yet through. We need at least six weeks more afore all’s in place.”

  “What are you doing to them?” she asked before she had thought better of herself. They knew she was the vulnerable one. It was no secret that she needed them, and that they loved this cat-and-mouse game they had forced her to play. But what else was she to do? At least they had the papers, as they promised.

  The tall man whirled around and pointed his finger at her. “Never ya mind! Ya do as we’s say and we give ya them papers you wanted. That’s all ya need ta know.”

  “Yes. Forgive me.” She bobbed a quick curtsy. “I should probably leave now, but wanted to reveal what I have heard to you.”

  “D’ya have anything else ta report?” The shorter man folded his arms.

  “No. That is all I know.”

  He nodded. “Good. ‘Tis wise ya told us. Such actions may save the man ya love.”

  She caught her breath and nodded.

  “Now, go.” He waved toward the window. “We have stuff ta talk over wifout you.” He looked at the other man. “Help her.”

  Not needing to be told twice, she quickly gathered her skirts and cloak and, with the larger man’s assistance, stepped out onto the crate once more.

  “We’ll give yer new assignment the normal way. Report ta us if you’s ’ear anythin’ diff’rent from yer son.”

  She met his eye. “I promise I will.” She stepped down from the crate and did not look back as she hurried across the gravel to the path. It was pointless to exchange niceties like “good-bye” and “thank you” with such men. Though they had never harmed her, the threat clearly existed. Nothing felt better than crossing the threshold of her own home after such an encounter. And now that she had that dear packet within her possession, she could finally say it was all worth it.

  Hopefully.

  CHAPTER NINE

  WILHELMINA PUSHED THE COTTAGE door open and ran to the fireplace. She quickly lit a candle with the few remaining embers and carried the wax to the table, where she began to open the packet with quivering hands.

  At last it was here. The evidence she needed to prove if John was alive or not.

  When she had received word of his death all those months ago, she had been devastated. Her husband had been a sailor for a merchant ship that paid well, and so they were in want of nothing. But the captain returned, saying John’s body had been left at a foreign port due to the influenza strain that infested it. He had not dared bring the dead body on board in case his other men contracted the disease. She had never thought to question him.

  However, when she received a letter from the foreign government demanding payment for his release, everything had been flipped upon its head.

  There. On top of the packet of papers lay the original missive from the Lythereon government. It was sent to her several months ago.

  W. Littleham,

  We believe your husban
d, John Littleham, may be the man incarcerated in our prison. For his safe release, we require fourteen ligals of gold and twenty-six pentals of silver.

  Please pay in full.

  Respectfully,

  The Lythereon Government

  Captain of the Guard

  She had sent the original letter, along with proof of John’s birth, christening, and other documents, stating he was the man they held within their walls, with these men. Now that word had come that he may not be dead, but in prison abroad, she had done everything in her power to save him. She found out everything she could to see if it was really him—if he was, indeed, the John Littleham who was her John Littleham.

  Wilhelmina brought the papers to her mouth as she sat down upon a chair at the table. Everything, everything she held dear rested upon what was written inside the documents. Could it truly be him? Or would these letters state John Littleham was not the man she sought?

  She let out a muffled sob and her world broke around her. The emotional upheaval of losing him once, only to possibly lose him again, was too much. There were so many unanswered questions, too many realities to keep her hopes up. She kissed the papers as the first tear crept down her cheek.

  How much had she given up for this moment? What had she become involved in to risk such a thing? And now the truth would reveal itself. Now was the time to see if it was indeed worth all the horror she had faced the last few months.

  Those men were the only she knew who had contacts brave enough and willing enough to face incarceration in the Lythereon kingdom by crossing the sea and secretly bringing back the information she sought. They had to do so in complete confidentiality, for if the government knew she was seeking further knowledge and proof and had already received their letter demanding payment, the chances of them being unfair, or killing him despite it all, were huge.

  The Lythereon people were not known for their kindness; in fact, Lythereon was the most ruthless kingdom. It was common knowledge that the best way to deal with them was to do so on their terms.

  How was even a third of such a sum to be paid? His ransom, or debt, was held at such an unbelievable price that she had to be certain it was him before she attempted to scrape such an amount together. For all she knew, it could be a hoax, trying to force her to pay for a man who had been dead all along so they could take advantage of a poor widow woman desperate for her husband’s return.

  She shook her head. No. This was the only way to guarantee it was truly him. She had done the right thing—no matter the cost. She had done all she could do. And beating herself up over the welfare of the royal children would only cause more stress and anguish in the long run. It was time she read the documents for herself to see if he was still alive.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ALECK AWOKE EARLY, BUT it must not have been early enough. By the time he made it to the cottage, Rebecca was already up and opening the door for him. He quickly hid the disappointment he felt at seeing her surprised face so as not to offend her.

  “Well, hello! It is good to see you,” she said as she moved back to let him in. “What brings you to us on Thursday morning? Do you have news?”

  He grinned and plopped down upon the chair nearest the fire. His gaze fell upon an oversized packet stuffed between his mother’s knitting near the hearth. He’d never seen it before. “No, I wished to say hello and maybe speak with Mother for a bit.” What was that? He reached over to finger the pouch, but Rebecca caught his attention.

  “Were you just missing us?” She waggled her brows a bit in a teasing gesture before shutting the door.

  He rolled his eyes and decided to leave the packet alone for now. “Or something similar.”

  “Mother is not feeling well at the moment, so I have taken over her duties this morning while she sleeps off a rather restless night.”

  Concerned, he asked, “Is she ill?”

  “No. She has nights like this from time to time, where I am not certain she has slept a wink come morning.”

  “So it would have been a bad day to speak anyhow.”

  “Well, I for one am glad you came. I have something to say that might interest you greatly.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Aye. Let me pour a quick cup of tea and I will tell you all about it.”

  He stretched his legs and settled into the chair more comfortably as she brought over a cup and saucer. “So, how has work with Hattie gone?”

  “Very well.” She grinned as she sat down in the chair across from him. “In fact, it is why I wanted to speak with you.”

  “You have some healing potion you wish to use on me?”

  “Ha. I would not waste precious learning on such a scapegrace as you. No, it is something even more vital to you and your future happiness.”

  “Oh, good heavens. My future happiness, now, eh? How can I resist this conversation?” He took a sip of his tea and willed his sister to stop this silliness and just get to the point. Why was it that sisters never did?

  “You cannot, I promise.” There was a slight rustling sound from the back room, and she turned toward it. “Well, I better tell you quickly. It looks as though we are about to be invaded by sibling monsters.”

  “Just so. Now, out with it.”

  “I told Hattie of your quest to solve the riddle of the princesses. And after I explained that the king would be requesting the kingdoms to help him, she rushed from the room and returned with this.” Rebecca leaned over the arm of the chair, and after rummaging around in the sewing box sitting next to it, she pulled out a small, folded piece of brown fabric. “I hid it in there because I knew if any of the younger children found it, we would never see this again.”

  “What is it?” he asked.

  She stood up and began to unfold the thin bundle. Surprisingly, it opened to reveal a large, very thin cloak. “Now watch.” She glanced quickly toward the room where the children slept, and then stepped forward as if she did not wish any of them to witness what she was about to do. “I am allowed to show you,” she said, confirming his suspicions. “And you, in turn, are allowed to show no one. Not even your precious princess.”

  He nodded.

  Stepping closer, Rebecca whispered, “If she were ever to find out what this fabric can do, it would ruin the spell for you, and you would no longer be able to use it.”

  “I see. What does it do?”

  Without another word, his sister flung the thin cloak around her shoulders and instantly disappeared before him.

  “Whoa!” he shouted and jumped out of his chair. Where was she?

  “Hush!” she hissed as she appeared in front of him again, the brown cloth slipping off her shoulders. Quickly she bundled it together and thrust it toward him.

  “What happened? Where did you go?”

  “Take it, now! And silence. I hear them coming.”

  He grabbed the fabric and quickly folded it into a small bundle and tucked it inside his sleeve just as the littlest Littleham made her way into the room.

  “Al-rick! Al-rick!” she shouted as she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around his legs. “You came back!”

  He chuckled and leaned down, messing up her already sleep-mussed hair. “I did. I did. I always do.”

  One of the boys wandered in. “What did you bring us?” he asked as he rubbed sleepily at his eyes.

  In his haste to speak with his mother, he had forgotten all about bringing treats for the little ones. “Forgive me—I did not remember to bring anything today. However, I promise to bring twice as much next time. How does that sound?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  BY THE TIME ALECK had escaped the house, he only had a few minutes to stash the cloak under his mattress and hurry out to the northwest garden, where they were to pick the early peaches that were ready to be harvested.

  He had not a moment to spare for the next several hours and hardly gave the cloak a thought as he picked, sorted, washed, and delivered fruit to the castle kitchens. When he brought in the last of the cra
tes, he could smell the bubbling jam ready to be poured into jars and stored in the fruit rooms.

  “You ladies have done brilliantly.” He grinned as he set the crate on the ground near the large table. “It smells like heaven in here.”

  “Tastes like it, too,” said one of the maids.

  “Aleck!”

  He was surprised to see Casey with an apron amongst the servants.

  “Your Highness.” He quickly bowed, aware of the several stares they had managed to create. “You are in the kitchens.” Never before had he seen any of the royal family in this hot place. Then again, he rarely came in here at all. They would be quick to shoo his garden filth away, had he tried.

  The maids tittered, but remained silent.

  Casey wiped at her brow, collected a bushel of peaches, and began slicing them. After a few moments of silence, where he was not sure what to do with himself, she said, “I know it is untoward to ask a princess why she is in the kitchens, as I am sure you wish to do.” She glanced up and coyly smiled. “So I will put your awkwardness to rest and answer for you.”

  Did all females enjoy making such nuisances of themselves? As if they were not already causing a large enough stir, why would she insist on creating a little chat between them, as though he were actually questioning her right to be in her own kitchen? Like he cared. He checked himself. Of course he cared. but it would be best if such things were not insinuated everywhere else! He bowed again. “Whatever you wish to speak of, Your Highness, is fine with me.”

  “I come here often, especially for the harvest bottling. Making jam has been one of my favorite experiences since I was little and Nurse Hellig would let me come and watch. Soon, it became hands-on, and now—now I come because I cannot be commanded to stay away.”

  “No, I do not imagine anyone could command you to do anything you do not wish.” He nodded his head. “Well, thank you for the, uh—history of your cooking experiences. I will go and attend to my other duties now.”