Lilah gave a hard laugh. “If it does, we’ll get rid of the Council when you’re old enough to be king on your own, and replace them with Councilors who aren’t traitors.”
“That’s if they’ll let me live that long,” Rolf said quietly. “My guess is that once Khelsh has his feet firmly planted in Sleyne, they’ll just get rid of me and crown Khelsh as King Glower the Eighty-first.”
Chapter
12
“Rolf Edward Daric Bryce, son of the late King Glower the Seventy-ninth, you stand before this assemblage as a supplicant,” the bishop intoned. “You seek to take up the crown and scepter of the kings before you, and rule here in Castle Glower as caretaker of this magical structure, and as ruler over all of the kingdom of Sleyne.”
Celie’s nose itched. It was probably the incense.
She was standing behind the bishop, in a new gold satin gown, holding an incense burner. Lilah was standing beside her, also in gold satin, holding an olive branch dipped in rainwater that she had shaken over Rolf’s head at the beginning of the ceremony. Celie’s job was to occasionally swing the incense around and distribute the smoke, which made her cough whenever it reached her nostrils.
The bishop glared whenever she coughed, and her gown was so stiff that she swore it could stand up without her inside it, the scarlet sash so tight that she could only take little sips of air. All in all, Celie decided that it was not an auspicious beginning to Rolf’s reign as King Glower the Eightieth.
Of course, he wasn’t King Glower the Eightieth, not yet.
“You kneel here as one who wishes to take up the mantle of the kingship, to rule over Sleyne, and to be ruled by this goodly Castle, a thing of great and mysterious magic. Will you walk within its halls, and heed its caprices, that they may guide you to caring for your people?”
“I will,” Rolf answered.
“Will you live every day for the good of Sleyne, her land, her beasts, and her people?”
“I will,” Rolf said again.
The bishop waved his hand with a sour expression, and Celie hurried to swing the burner again, nearly smacking Lilah in the knee with the brass dish. She caught Rolf’s eye and he winked, his lips moving in the ghost of a smile, and she grinned back, to the bishop’s annoyance.
“If there is any doubt in your heart that you cannot take up the crown and scepter of Sleyne,” the bishop said, coming to the end of the ceremony, “speak now!”
Rolf was supposed to say “I have no doubts.” But he didn’t.
Instead he raised his head and said very clearly, “If there were any doubts in my heart, the Castle would expose them. And if I were not a fit king, the Castle would have rejected me. But since it has not, I take up the crown and scepter that Castle Glower has been gracious enough to grant to me.”
There was a thick silence in the hall, and Celie swung her incense burner vigorously to keep herself from cheering. The bishop had gone quickly from looking scandalized to looking thoughtful, and he took up the crown now without any hesitation, and placed it on Rolf’s head. It slipped down a little—there had been no time to have a jeweler resize it—but somehow it stayed above Rolf’s eyebrows and gave him a grave look. Then the bishop handed him the scepter, and Rolf kissed the jeweled knob on top and pressed it to his heart, as he’d been instructed.
“In this hall, on this day, I name you King Glower the Eightieth. Rule wisely, and well, King Glower,” the bishop said solemnly.
Rolf stood, inclined his head to the bishop one more time, and then turned to face his subjects. He raised the scepter, and the assembly cheered.
Celie and Lilah cheered, too, and smiled. There were tears on Lilah’s cheeks, and Celie was surprised to realize after a moment that there were tears on her own cheeks as well. It was gratifying to see how long the cheering went on, and how loud it was, with people on their feet and men throwing their caps in the air.
A pair of pages took the branch and incense from Celie and Lilah, and the girls followed Rolf down the long aisle and out into the sun of the courtyard. It was so full of people that it looked like all of Sleyne had gathered there. People were crowding the battlements, too, and hanging out of the windows that overlooked the courtyard, and all of them had bright faces and were cheering wildly. Rolf waved and they waved back, chanting.
“What are they saying?” Lilah whispered to Celie without moving her lips, a skill Celie was bitterly jealous of.
“Eighty,” Celie replied.
Indeed, everyone in the courtyard was shouting it with one voice now. “Eigh-ty, eigh-ty, eigh-ty!” It made Celie feel a bit sad, however: from now on, though the family would still call him Rolf, everyone else would know her brother as Glower the Eightieth. She wondered if he felt a little out of sorts, having his name changed. She wondered if her father had felt that way.
But if her parents returned, would Rolf go back to being Rolf? Would they have to un-king him? She supposed that Rolf wouldn’t mind; it would probably be a relief. She knew that she would feel better, sleep better, once her parents returned.
“And they will,” she said under her breath.
Rolf held up his hands for silence, and waited with a smile until the last cries died out.
“Thank you,” he said, and the words rang clearly through the courtyard, courtesy of the Castle. “It warms my heart for my people to receive me so well.” Another cheer went through the crowd. “I understand that there is a feast awaiting us just outside the gates!”
The cheers were deafening, one wordless roar. Lilah had taken up the matter with Cook earlier in the week, who in turn had employed anyone who could turn a spit or knead bread in order to provide food for everyone who wished to attend the coronation, from Prince Lulath of Grath to the village goatherds.
“What’s this?” The Emissary had stepped out from behind a gaggle of nobles. “I wasn’t aware of any feast for the peasantry.” He had a large, very false smile plastered across his face.
“That’s quite all right,” Rolf said airily. “I made arrangements with the staff some time ago.”
“In the future, you will need to inform us of these little whims,” the Emissary said in a patronizing voice that made Celie want to kick his shins.
Rolf gave a noncommittal nod of the head, and turned back to the cheering crowd. He raised his arms for silence again, and started to say, “Now, to the fea—” but the Emissary interrupted him.
“Excuse me, Your Majesty,” he said loudly, but Celie thought that only the front rows of the crowd heard him, because the Castle didn’t amplify his words the way it did Rolf’s. “There is one more announcement that must be made.”
He walked over to Rolf, forcing Celie to scoot out of his way. She pressed herself to Lilah’s side, dreading what was coming next. They hadn’t known exactly when the Council would make their announcement. Rolf had suspected it would be after the coronation, if they didn’t say something before. But to do it now, when everyone was cheering for Rolf …
“As a member of the Royal Council of Sleyne,” the Emissary said, and still the Castle didn’t amplify his voice, and people whispered to each other, trying to pass along what he said and making a great rush of noise through the courtyard, “I have something to announce. It has been judged by the Council that His Highness … His Majesty, that is, King Glower the Eightieth, is too young to rule alone. In these uncertain times, when our beloved late King Glower the Seventy-ninth can be attacked and killed within our own borders, we need all the wisdom we can muster to guide us. Therefore, until he reaches maturity, the Royal Council shall stand as regents to King Glower. And with us, to specially tutor the king in foreign diplomacy, will be our newest member of the Council, Prince Khelsh of Vhervhine!” He said this last in a happy shout, as though expecting the assembly to cheer in excitement.
Instead there was only muttering as people passed on the news. The bright faces, alight with hope and joy, that had looked up the steps at Rolf when he emerged from the Castle, were now dark and
confused as they tried to understand the reasons behind it.
“Thank you, my Lord Emissary,” Rolf said, and Celie was proud of him for having only the faintest trace of bitterness in his voice. He addressed the public again. “There is much to talk about,” he said, and Celie smiled as the Castle obligingly carried his words to the battlements. “But while we talk, let us feast!”
The cheers were ragged at best, and ended quickly. People dispersed, while Rolf turned around, stuck his scepter in the crook of his right arm, and held out his left to Lilah. She took it, and Celie went quickly to his right side, standing as close to him as she could without bumping into the jeweled scepter sticking out from his elbow.
“Let’s take the back way to the banquet hall, sisters dear,” he said. “So much shorter than winding through the crowd in the courtyard.” He steered them along the apse toward the rear door of the chapel.
“Your Majesty!” The Emissary’s smile was gone, now that the pages were closing the massive doors.
“Yes, my lord?” Rolf looked over his shoulder with a mild expression, but kept on walking calmly toward the back.
“There is much to discuss.”
“How so?” Rolf’s eyebrows touched his crown. “I have been crowned, you have made the announcement. Now we feast!”
“But … do you not have something to say to me?”
The Emissary, Celie realized with a bubble of laughter that she managed to bite back, was startled and perhaps even offended that Rolf wasn’t angry. He had probably been waiting for Rolf to scream and argue over Prince Khelsh’s appointment, but Rolf hadn’t even blinked. Celie very gently squeezed Rolf’s arm, just above the elbow, and he gave her a quick wink.
“Not at present,” Rolf said, looking slightly baffled.
“Well … but … I rather thought you might have something to say about Prince Khelsh,” the Emissary spluttered.
“Not at all,” Rolf said coolly. “He’s a bit of a blowhard, but really, it’s what one expects of a Vhervhish royal, isn’t it?”
“But … are you not surprised at his appointment?”
Rolf laughed. “Oh, my Lord Emissary!” He shook his head. “I’ve known about that for days!”
They had come to the little door at the back, the Emissary trailing behind them with a nonplussed expression, and the bishop watching from the nave. The bishop had a shrewd look on his face, and Celie gave him a cheery wave. He raised one eyebrow in reply.
“Shall we see what magnificence Cook has prepared for us?” Rolf said to Celie and Lilah. He gave the Emissary a querying look. “Are you coming this way, my lord?”
“N-no … I have things to see to,” said the Emissary.
“Well, try not to miss the entire banquet,” Rolf said. “People will talk—more than they already are, that is—if my regents are not there to show their support.” He looked beyond the Emissary to the bodyguards who had followed them as well, silent and nearly unnoticeable, despite their size and the brightness of their weapons. “Come along, boys,” Rolf called.
The Emissary, still looking extremely put out, had to step aside quickly as the three guards nearly pushed him aside to follow Rolf and the two princesses. Blaine, the guard assigned to Celie, saw her pleasure over this and gave her a faint smile. He took the door from Rolf.
“Lead on, Your Majesty, Your Highnesses,” he said, and bowed them into the passageway with a flourish.
“Hungry, my royal sisters?” Rolf adopted a plummy voice. “We ourselves could eat a gilded ox.”
“As could I, my most royal brother,” Celie said.
“Let us continue on to the feast, then!”
Chapter
13
I loved the Emissary’s expression so much,” Celie said with a sigh of pleasure.
It was nearly dawn, and she was lying on the rug under the table in the Spyglass Tower, holding her stomach. The feast had indeed been magnificent, and her tight gown had nearly split after four hours of eating. Cook’s attendants had brought out course after course, to great cheers and much admiration.
When peacocks, roasted and then bedecked with their tail feathers once again, had been brought out on gold platters, Rolf had risen to his feet, insisted that Cook be brought in, and then toasted her. She had blushed like a girl and twisted her hands in her apron. Rolf had promptly removed the feathers from the bird in front of him and given them to Cook, who curtsied and went back to the kitchen giggling. The feathers, Celie knew, were worth a gold mark each, and a very thoughtful reward for Cook’s hard work. Then she and Lilah had gone with Rolf and several guards to walk among the commoners on the green in front of the Castle, nodding and smiling and sharing a drink of cider here, an iced cake there.
From everyone came endless questions about the regency.
The siblings had known it would be this way, and had already prepared a careful answer: Rolf was very young, and they were all in shock over their parents’ and brother’s terrible fate. It was good of the Council to take this active stance.
And that was all they would say, no matter how they were pressed. Rolf had spent the last several days formulating the answer. He wanted to be polite, and take the high ground, as they had agreed. But he also wanted to imply that it was the Council’s decision, and he wanted to avoid saying that their parents and Bran were dead. It seemed to be working: the whispers and questions continued even after they heard Rolf’s answer, so that the siblings knew the people were still uneasy about the regency, and still questioning it.
“The Emissary’s expression?” Lilah yawned and plumped herself on one of the chairs with a lack of her customary grace.
“When Rolf said he’d known about the prince’s appointment for days,” Celie clarified. “The shock … you ruined the terrible surprise he had planned, Rolf!”
“Exactly!” Rolf laid the crown on the table and rubbed his forehead.
“That was my idea,” Lilah pointed out.
“Yes, and a capital one it turned out to be!” Rolf said with enthusiasm. “I wasn’t sure how to do it, but when he stepped forward and I saw that he was going to announce the regency right then and there, I decided to just plunge in. Seeing his shock was magnificent! He’ll be thinking there’s a spy on the Council, or a sympathizer at the very least. If we know about their moves before they make them, it will keep them off balance.”
“Wonderful,” Celie agreed happily.
“Yes, but while it was certainly a blow that Khelsh wasn’t a surprise,” Lilah said, “the trick is going to be keeping up with them. How will we know about their next moves? Will the Castle keep on showing us? Or Celie?”
“Of course it will,” Celie said fondly. She patted the floor at her side. “Won’t you, my only darling?” Celie was now thoroughly convinced that the Castle wasn’t just magic, but a living thing, and furthermore, that it was firmly on their side.
She thought she felt a quivering beneath her hand, as though the Castle were purring.
“What do you suppose the Castle is made of?” She felt her eyelids growing heavy. It had been a very long, exciting day, and now she wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for days.
“Stone,” Rolf answered. “What else would it be made of?” He reached over and flicked her shoulder. “I think it’s time for you to be in bed.”
Celie made a face at him. “I meant: What makes Castle Glower special? How does it do so many wonderful things? Is it alive? Was it built by a wizard?”
“People have been speculating about that for centuries,” Lilah said. “But nobody has ever found out.”
“I know all that … but I still wonder,” Celie said.
“If the Castle was ever going to tell anyone its secrets, I think it would be you,” Rolf said. He reached down and squeezed Celie’s ankle. “Now come along, sleepy. You’d better go to bed. It’s almost time for breakfast.”
“Oooh, don’t mention food,” Celie groaned. “I might be sick.”
“Pogue!” Lilah said.
> “No, I’m Rolf,” Rolf said, giving her a baffled look.
“No, I mean it’s Pogue,” Lilah said, her voice high with excitement. She had one eye pressed to the spyglass she’d been fiddling with. “And he’s riding hard.”
Rolf crossed the room in two strides, and Celie scrambled up from the floor.
“Are you sure?” Rolf put one hand on the spyglass, and Lilah stepped back to let him look. “It is!” He looked over the top of the brass spyglass, squinting at the road beyond the Castle. “This spyglass can see a lot farther than any I’ve ever used before. He’s well beyond the village, even.”
Lilah gave him a disgusted look. “You just got finished telling Celie that the Castle is magic and mysterious, which we all knew, and now you’re impressed by a spyglass?” She nudged him aside and looked through it again.
“I want a look,” Celie said, and Lilah grudgingly moved aside for her.
It was Pogue, but he was indeed some distance away. His horse was only just coming into the valley, yet Celie could see him quite clearly through the spyglass. He was bent low over his horse’s neck and riding hard despite the dim, gray light. His horse’s hide was dark with sweat, and Pogue looked muddy and travel-stained.
“Do you think he has bad news?” Celie stepped back and let Lilah look again.
“I don’t know,” Lilah said, sounding worried.
“Well, we’ll know shortly,” Rolf said easily. “He’ll be here soon.” He paused, squinting again. “That is, if his horse makes it: the poor beast looked ready to drop.”
“Shall we ride out to meet him?” Celie gave her brother an eager look.
“By the time we had an escort, and everyone was mounted and ready to leave, he’d be at the gates,” Rolf said, shaking his head. “I’m going to pop down to my room and put some clean clothes on, splash a little water on my face, and get ready to meet him at the gates. Best if you girls do the same. I don’t think we’ll be getting to bed any time soon.”