“What is it?” Celie leaped up. “Is it Mummy and Daddy? Are they coming?” She hurried to her sister, who was already shaking her head.
“No, but look!” Lilah tilted the spyglass so that Celie could see through it.
Celie put her eye to the brass eyepiece and then gasped. The spyglasses always showed things with such clarity that it was hard to believe they weren’t in the same room with you, and this time was no exception. But instead of showing the distant hills, the image it showed was not very far away at all.
It was Rolf. In the throne room.
The spyglass was somehow looking directly through all the layers of stone and slate and who knows what else, to show the interior of the throne room, where Rolf sat on a stool in front of the dais. He looked like a cornered animal, his arms folded defensively across his chest, his face set into a hard expression even though Celie could see from his eyes that he was becoming frightened.
“What’s happening?” Celie whispered.
“I don’t know,” Lilah whispered back. “Let me look.”
“Use one of the other spyglasses,” Celie said. “I don’t think it matters.”
“True.” Lilah went to another window and said, “I want to see Rolf, too,” and then peered through the eyepiece. “Oh, good!”
Celie assumed that her sister meant she could see Rolf, too, because what was happening in the throne room could hardly be described as “good.” Rolf was not alone, but surrounded by the Council and Prince Khelsh, all leaning in on him, talking in turn and over one another, as far as Celie could tell. Their faces were red and even more set than Rolf’s, and Celie could tell that her brother was not cooperating with whatever they wanted.
“We’ve got to find out what they’re saying!” Lilah kicked ineffectually at the stone wall, her eye still pressed to the spyglass. “Ouch!” She was only wearing velvet slippers. “Hello, there?” Lilah looked up at the ceiling. “Castle? Could you open a secret passage to the throne room, please?”
There was no response.
Celie stepped away from the spyglass. She wondered how many of her ancestors, or any of the kings and queens who had lived in the Castle before, had asked for favors and gotten them. Had any of them even tried? Histories of the kings had been written, but they were always vague when it came to the Castle itself. No books had been written on it, and no one had tried to map it, except for Celie.
She decided to try something.
The sound-masking cloak was lying over a stool. Celie crossed to it and quickly put it on, leaving the hood down and the ties open, since she didn’t need to move silently quite yet.
Lilah turned and saw her put the cloak on. “Cel, what are you doing?” She glanced around, puzzled. “There’s no secret passage now.”
“But there’s the door,” Celie said, pointing.
And there it was.
That made four times, at least, that she had needed something and the Castle had provided. She felt a little light-headed.
“I’ll bring us some more food when I’m done,” she said, trying to sound confident and failing.
“Oh, darling, no!” Lilah protested. “You can’t go down there! What if they catch you?”
“No one will catch me,” Celie said, though her voice trembled a little. She clenched her fists, willing herself to relax. “I’ll take my atlas, and I’ll be fine.” She scooped up the collection of maps from the table. She also grabbed a charcoal pencil and put it in the pocket of the cloak. “In fact, I think I’ll make some notes, if I see anything I haven’t noticed before. It will help us sneak around.”
“Let me go—” Lilah began.
“You know that I’m better at this,” Celie pointed out. “I’ll be back before you know it. And you can watch me through the spyglass,” she added.
“All right,” Lilah agreed. “But just go to the throne room and come back. We’ll worry about food later.”
“Fine,” Celie said, privately resolving to ignore that. Her stomach was already growling again.
She went down the narrow steps with a great deal of trepidation that she hid as best she could from Lilah, keeping her shoulders square and her pace steady. Once through the door and into the Castle proper, however, it became even harder as she realized that she would have to maintain her air of false casualness all the way to the throne room.
Well, beyond it, actually. What Celie was aiming for was the servants’ passageway that ran from the kitchen and the other serving areas to the back of the throne room. She was sure that she could either hear well enough through the keyhole, or even open the door a crack without anyone noticing. The door itself was hidden behind an arras.
The Spyglass Tower had been conveniently close to the throne room, so she passed almost no one on her way, just a pair of maids who bobbed their heads and walked on by as though nothing unusual had ever happened at the Castle, and someone she thought vaguely might be Grathian. He, too, bobbed, but with a broad smile as though he had never been as delighted to see anyone as her. She nodded and speeded up just a little.
Soon enough she was going down a long passage that led to the linen storerooms and the ironing room. She turned left, smiled at a maid carrying a stack of freshly laundered sheets, and then found herself at one of the doors into the throne room passage. She noticed that the ironing room wasn’t on her atlas, and made a mental note to add it later. Then she ducked into the passage, following it until it ended at a big, brass-bound door.
Celie pressed her ear to the door, but could hear nothing. Her heart in her throat, she slowly lifted the latch and opened the door just wide enough to slide one hand through and keep it from shutting with a bang if a draft caught it. She couldn’t see anything, of course, but now she could hear well enough.
“… reasonable,” someone was saying. Celie thought it was the Emissary, and felt herself stiffen just a little. “This is the only possible option.”
“To make a foreign prince my heir?” Rolf sounded tired, as though he had said it over and over. “Why not one of my sisters, or one of our own Sleynth nobles?”
“They just don’t have the experience,” the Emissary said.
“Prince Khelsh has never ruled a nation, either,” Rolf said. “Besides, he barely speaks Sleynth and he hardly knows his way around the Castle, let alone the country.”
“It’s merely a precaution,” Lord Feen said. “Your Majesty is very young; Prince Khelsh will have ample time to learn our language and our ways.”
“I’ll be getting married in a few years,” said Rolf in a tone that squeezed Celie’s heart. “I’ll have heirs of my own … probably before this appallingly lengthy regency is through! This seems entirely unnecessary—”
“Sign paper,” Prince Khelsh barked. “Sign now! No more talk!”
“Let me read it first,” Rolf said in a small voice.
There was some rustling, and then silence for a time. Celie wished that she could whisper to Rolf, and if he’d been sitting on the throne, she might have been able to. She wanted to tell Rolf that Khelsh’s rooms were awful, to reassure him that even the Castle would not stand for Khelsh taking over. As it was, she merely tried to send her brother thoughts of love and strength while he faced the horrible Khelsh and his horrible Council lackeys.
“I want to make some changes,” Rolf said.
“No!” Khelsh roared with indignation. “Sign, fool boy!”
“Very well,” Rolf said, anger creeping into his voice. “But I want the paper to say that you are only my heir until I marry and beget an heir of my own.” There was a crackle of paper. “According to this, even if I had ten children, you would still be my heir, and I refuse to sign under those terms.”
“Perhaps Your Majesty needs to go to your room, like the petulant child that you are, until you learn some sense,” the Emissary said.
“Perhaps,” Rolf said lightly.
There was the sound of footsteps receding, and a few of the Councilors sputtering in rage. The door to th
e throne room closed with a definite bang, and Celie smiled, imagining Rolf stalking out of the room with his head high.
There was some scuffling as the Councilors dithered and Khelsh erupted into angry Vhervhish. He was soothed by the Emissary in that same language, and then at last they shuffled out and it was quiet. Celie waited a minute more, and then she quietly closed the door and followed the passage all the way to its opposite end, which opened into the kitchen.
Where she nearly ran straight into the back of Prince Lulath of Grath.
She made a small eep noise, and tried to retreat into the passageway before anyone saw her. But one of the maids, who had been listening to whatever Lulath had been saying, looked at her, causing Lulath to turn around and greet her with wide eyes and an even wider smile.
“Why, Princess Cecelia! The very one of whom I seek!”
Chapter
17
Celie could only look at him with wide eyes of her own. Seeing his impeccably coiffed hair and immaculate tunic, she was suddenly aware that she was slightly dusty and still wearing the oddly heavy muffling cloak. Lulath really was quite handsome, and extremely tall. He had one of his small dogs tucked under his arm, looking like a limp fur muff.
Celie took off the cloak and arranged it over one arm. “You were, um, seeking me?”
“Yes, yes!”
Lulath looked like he was going to embrace her for a moment, and Celie took a step back. The prince was rather alarming, because much like Khelsh, he said everything very loudly. But in the case of Lulath, it seemed to be more because he was excited, rather than angry.
“What did you need?”
“I needed to speak of the matter of the very great importance, and to check that you are well!” He looked anxiously at Celie, searching her face as though truly concerned.
“I am fine,” Celie said. “What is the matter of … of great importance?”
“And your sister, the Princess Delilah, is she also well?”
“Delilah is fine,” Celie said.
“And you are … safe?” The prince actually lowered his voice to something approaching a whisper. “You have a sleeping place that is the safest?”
“Yes, yes, we do,” Celie said. She blinked at him, gratified yet uncertain. Did he really care?
Lulath leaned in closer, and the small dog perked up and sniffed at her. It was the color of a caramel, and had a pink bow holding its long hair out of its eyes. Celie reached out and it licked her fingers.
“She like you,” Lulath said in a conspiratorial whisper.
Was this the matter of great importance? That his dogs liked her?
Celie gave the prince a puzzled look, and noticed that Cook was hovering over his shoulder. She grimaced at Celie, and held up her rolling pin as though offering to knock the prince over the head. Celie’s eyes widened and she shook her head just slightly.
“It is because you are a good person,” the prince said earnestly. “And your sister, and your brother.” His whisper dropped lower, and Celie took a small step forward to hear him better. “And I,” the prince went on, “I also am a good person, and want to be helping you. This regency, I think they are not good. They are with Khelsh, who is very much not good.”
Celie hesitated. Was this a trap? Was he trying to catch her saying something against the Council, so that he could report it to them?
A thought struck her.
“Can I see your rooms?”
Cook dropped her rolling pin. “Princess Cecelia!”
But Lulath was nodding. He looked Celie over again, this time with a level of understanding that she hadn’t suspected a man who carried around small dogs to be capable of. He held out his free arm to her, but Celie politely shook her head. She stepped around him and went to Cook, who had picked up her rolling pin and was muttering under her breath.
“Cook, it’s all right,” Celie said quietly. “Prince Khelsh’s rooms are very small, and dark, and poorly furnished.” She raised her eyebrows, and waited to see if the older woman understood.
“Oh,” Cook said, raising her own eyebrows.
“I understand that Prince Lulath’s rooms, on the other hand, are very fine,” Celie hinted further.
“Indeed, the girl who cleans there said something to that effect,” Cook said.
“I want to see what they’re like today,” Celie said.
“I could send the girl up—”
“It’s all right,” Celie said. “I need to see with my own eyes.”
She didn’t explain further, because she didn’t really know what she was looking for. She had seen into Lulath’s rooms, but it had been through the haze of a tapestry. Were they as large and opulent as they had seemed? And had the Castle provided the furnishings, or had his servants brought them? She had some questions for the prince, and it didn’t help that the kitchen maids were all straining to listen in. What if one of them was a spy for the Council?
“All right,” Cook said. “I know that you’ll be well protected. The Castle has always loved you best.”
She said this last loud enough for Lulath to hear. He bobbed his head and beamed as if agreeing. He held out his arm again, and this time Celie took it.
“I’ll have another food basket ready in a few minutes,” Cook said, again for Prince Lulath’s benefit as much as Celie’s.
“Thank you,” Celie said, as lightly as though she were going on a picnic, instead of hiding in her own home.
“The cook, she is good woman,” Prince Lulath said as they went out of the kitchen and up a long flight of stairs.
“Yes,” Celie agreed. “She’s like a queen of her own kingdom down there.”
Lulath laughed. “A good way to say,” he said. “I would wish very much that she would come to Grath. She would cook most excellently for us, too, then! But Castle Glower, it would be fill with anger! I would not take any one person from the Castle Glower. Not any one.” He squeezed her elbow in a meaningful way.
“That’s very nice,” Celie said. “But … do you want to stay here forever?” She could not think of another way to say it. Khelsh didn’t seem to want to take anyone away from the Castle, unless getting rid of Rolf counted, but he also didn’t seem to want to go back to Vhervhine.
The Grathian prince furrowed his brow and thought for a while as they walked. Celie wasn’t sure if he hadn’t understood her, or if he didn’t know how to speak his answer, or didn’t know how to answer her at all. She stayed silent and let him struggle with it as they continued down the long corridor and up another flight of stairs in the guest wing of the Castle.
“I do not know,” the prince said, stopping outside a broad door carved with the Glower coat of arms: a stylized Castle with the silhouette of some large-winged creature above the towers. “I do not know what I want. First I want to help you and the other princess and the new king be the safest.”
He opened the door to his rooms, and Celie knew at once that Prince Lulath of Grath was sincere. She also knew that the Castle liked him, possibly as much as it liked her family.
Lulath’s rooms were enormous, with high ceilings and wide balconies, just as she’d seen before. The fireplace was big enough to roast an ox, and in front of it was an elaborate dog bed that held two other small dogs.
The one that the prince was carrying leaped out of his grip and ran to her companions. They began rolling around on the luxurious carpet, yipping at one another.
“My babies,” the prince said fondly. “They are such the silly things.”
“Er, yes,” Celie said, tearing her gaze off the dogs and looking around the room again.
They were in a large sitting room, and she could see through a tall doorway to a bedroom on one side, and on the other side was the dressing room full of clothes. The racks were not anything Celie had ever seen before; neither was the dog bed and some of the chairs in the sitting room. But the bigger, heavier furnishings were Castle-made, she was sure: elaborately carved sideboards, a settle with blue-and-gray cushions sh
e was fairly certain had once been in the nursery, and a wide four-poster bed with the Sleyne coat of arms on it.
“These are very nice rooms,” she said. “Did you bring these things yourself?” She put her hand on the back of a spindle-legged chair she had never seen before.
“Some, yes,” Lulath said. He pointed to the chair and a rug on the floor. “The ambassador said, maybe the Castle, it will not like you, so I brought some of my comforts.”
Celie wondered what the ambassador’s room looked like, and why he’d been worried the Castle might not like Lulath.
“And of course I have the many clothes.” He laughed in a self-deprecating way, waving a hand at the racks in the dressing room. “And my girls must have their bed.”
Hearing this, the small dogs raced across the floor and leaped around their master’s feet. Lulath laughed again and sat down on the rug, heedless of crumpling his fine tunic. The dogs clambered onto his lap, fighting for position, and one of them scrambled up the breast of his tunic so that she could lick his chin.
“Ah, my girls!”
Celie couldn’t help it: she got down on her knees and held out a hand. The caramel-colored dog immediately came to her, wagging her whole body, and Celie stroked her soft ears. The dog licked frantically at Celie’s fingers, and she rubbed the little creature’s back with her other hand.
“Very much she likes you!” Lulath cheered. “Dogs, they are very good to know people’s hearts. And JouJou is the very clever.”
“JouJou?”
The caramel dog yapped with pleasure at Celie saying her name, and sprang onto Celie’s lap. She promptly slipped off again, because Celie’s black satin mourning gown was very slick, and Celie laughed. The dog rolled onto her back and Celie rubbed her round tummy.
“You see,” Lulath said. “The dogs, they like you, and I like you, and the Castle likes me. Now you must tell me what I do for you, and the new king, and the sister. What is it that I do to help?”
“Prince Khelsh is a very … He is not … a good man,” Celie said slowly.
“No. Very bad,” Lulath agreed. “So bad, his own father say he cannot come back.”