For a moment everyone sat frozen in those positions, pinned in place by Herk acknowledging he was afraid. Or maybe their sudden paralysis was my fault. In the palace, I hadn’t gotten as much leadership training as all my sister-princesses had in their hiding places: Lord Throckmorton hadn’t actually wanted to turn me into a strong leader. He’d wanted me to be a spineless puppet he could manipulate however he wanted. But Cecilia, at least, had told me about what she’d learned. I knew the first rule of leadership was to look decisive and unafraid no matter what.
I had just failed that test of leadership.
But what could I do about it when I was still shaking, still drenched in sweat, still barely able to hold myself back from wailing even more?
Janelia broke the spell by reaching out and putting her arm around Herk, drawing him close.
“I get scared sometimes too, Herksy,” she said. “You’re being really brave, going with us to Fridesia. I think you’re braver than any of the big boys were, when they were your age.”
“Hey! Don’t insult my courage like that!” Tog said. “I was brave when I was a little guy too!”
I could tell he was only pretending to be offended. I wasn’t sure Herk noticed, but Tog’s joking tone made me feel better.
Terrence didn’t join in the joking. He was still peering off into the distance, his gaze roaming across the landscape that had terrified me.
“Cold water would help, wouldn’t it?” he asked. “I think that’s a river beyond the rocks. I’ll go fill our water gourds.”
“Good idea. Take these three, and I’ll give Desmia the rest of what we have left,” Janelia said. “She should probably start out with lukewarm water, anyhow, until her stomach settles.”
Janelia took gourds from Herk and Tog and carefully poured all the remaining water into one. She handed the empty ones to Terrence, who started toward the river even as Janelia held the full gourd up to my mouth.
They’re treating me completely like an invalid now, I thought. Or like a small child or a pet. I’m the princess and they’re beggars and yet they’re acting like I can’t think for myself.
Considering that I still didn’t quite trust myself to open my mouth without screaming, I didn’t see how I could protest. I let Janelia trickle a thin stream of water down my throat, and it did help. I was parched; my mouth tasted of dust and vomit and fear.
The water seemed to wash all that away.
“Better,” I murmured, when I finally stopped drinking. “I feel better. Thank . . . you.”
Royalty was almost never supposed to show gratitude—it was as forbidden as regret or apologies or any other show of weakness. What I had learned from Lord Throckmorton was that you should only show appreciation in order to manipulate someone into feeling obligated. That was the strategy I had been trying for with Madame Bisset back at the prison house. But now I felt the words “thank you” slip out almost without my thinking about it.
Because of the sister-princesses, I thought. I picked up the habit from them. None of them could remember that they weren’t supposed to say thank you.
My vision blurred again, and I forced myself to concentrate on looking at the solid rock around me.
“If you think you can keep it down, food would be a good idea too,” Janelia said. “Why don’t we start eating? I doubt that Terrence will mind. We can let him take a shift of not carrying the stretcher, after lunch, so he can get his break then. . . .”
Janelia seemed to be babbling, saying anything to fill the gap of silence.
“What’s for lunch, what’s for lunch, what’s for lunch?” Herk chanted. It seemed as though he, at least, had recovered from his fear.
Janelia and Tog both laughed.
“This might be one of those meals you want to pretend is something else,” Tog suggested.
Janelia glanced apologetically at me.
“We’re going to eat up the bread first, before it goes bad,” she said. “And it was stale to begin with, because we didn’t have the time or the money to wait for fresh this morning. Later we’ll catch some fish and maybe rabbits or fowl as we go along. And I have an idea for a way to make money to buy more food in the villages we pass—the meals will get better after this, I promise.”
I wanted to be noble and gracious and murmur something like, “Oh, I’m sure it will be delicious”—and somehow sound sincere. But the thought of stale, hard bread made my stomach churn once again. I thought I was showing great nobility and graciousness just forcing myself to hold out my hand to take the small chunk of bread Janelia dropped into my palm. The bread felt as dense as a stone and no more appetizing.
Tog and Herk tore into their chunks of bread as if they hadn’t eaten in days. Janelia smiled apologetically and began gnawing on her own piece, which I noticed was by far the smallest portion.
Somehow that detail made it possible for me to lift my hand to my mouth and at least try to start nibbling the bread.
In no time at all Herk had gobbled down his bread. He glanced pointedly at the piece Janelia had laid aside on a clean kerchief for Terrence.
“How long will it take Terrence to get back?” Herk asked.
“It looked like a ways to that river,” Tog said. He shoved the bread on the kerchief a little farther from Herk. “Why? You know Terrence won’t share.”
“I know,” Herk said. “I’m just thirsty. And—I thought we could play a game.”
Janelia pushed my gourd toward Herk.
“There’s a few drops left in that,” Janelia told him.
But—I’m the princess! I thought. Nobody except other royalty or the official taster would share a princess’s drinking goblet!
I reminded myself this was a dried-out gourd Janelia was offering Herk, not a goblet. I kept my mouth shut.
“And, Herk, we talked about this last night,” Janelia said, fixing Herk with a stern gaze as he upended the gourd into his mouth, gathering perhaps three or four drops. “Until we get to Fridesia, nobody will have time or energy to play the running-around games you like so much. We have to focus on getting there as fast and as safely as we can.”
“I didn’t mean that kind of game,” Herk protested. “I just thought, since Princess Desmia didn’t see anything we passed this morning, we could have a competition. Each of us can tell the best things we saw, and then she can judge whose story she likes best.”
Tog and Janelia glanced anxiously at me and then at each other, as if they were both thinking, Doesn’t he get that the scenery we passed this morning would have terrified Desmia? Doesn’t he understand that she wouldn’t even want to think about the world outside this circle of rocks right now? Who’s going to tell him that?
But Herk was peering at me so eagerly, I suddenly couldn’t bear to see him quashed.
“Let’s hear your story,” I said. “I’m already sure it’ll be best.”
“No fair saying that yet!” Herk said, sticking out his bottom lip. “Now I know you’re just going to let me win!”
What had I done wrong?
“Oh, no,” Tog soothed Herk quickly. “The princess won’t think that after she hears my story. You just think you have the advantage.”
“I know I can’t compete with the two of you,” Janelia said. “So I’ll go first, and get out of the way. I saw . . .” She lowered the small sliver of bread she still held, and tilted her head thoughtfully. “I saw a family of butterflies, right after sunrise, flying over a field of flowers. There were five of them, just like there are five of us, and it looked like they were watching over one another. They sparkled in the sunlight and it felt like a promise or something, that they would be safe, and we would be safe, all the way to Fridesia. . . .”
“You’re making that up!” Herk protested.
Janelia held up her hand.
“God’s honest truth,” she said. “It’s what I saw. What I felt.”
She had her eye on me. I looked away, embarrassed.
“Well, I saw these two bees, and it looke
d like they were racing each other to land on the same flower,” Herk said, all in a rush. “And they flew so fast that when they landed on the flower they flipped over and fell off. The ground wasn’t that far away, but their faces were so funny, looking at each other. I know bees can’t talk, but if they could, I bet they would have said, ‘You pushed me!’ ‘No, you pushed me!’ ”
“And then they would have punched each other, and it would have been just like you and Augie back home,” Janelia said.
“Maybe,” Herk admitted.
Butterflies, bees . . . Once I would have dismissed all creepy-crawly things as equally disgusting and unpleasant. Knowing that there were insects around would have made me even more panicked this morning as I hid under my sheet. But maybe I’d managed to catch a little bit of the awe and humor Janelia and Herk had seen in their stories. I kept my face carefully neutral when the others turned to me.
“My story’s the best so far, isn’t it?” Herk asked. “Tog, tell yours, then Princess Desmia can really judge.”
But Tog was standing up.
“Doesn’t it seem like Terrence has been gone too long?” he muttered.
“You want to go look for him, while Herk and I stay with Desmia?” Janelia asked quietly.
Tog nodded.
“Just—be careful,” Janelia said. “Stay hidden as much as you can. And we’ll stay quiet until you come back.”
Tog nodded and slipped silently away. Herk bit his lip, as if that was the only way to hold back his usual torrent of words. But he didn’t make another peep. Janelia popped her last crust of bread into her mouth, and stood up with a studied casualness, as if she wanted Herk and me to think she was only stretching.
I could tell that Janelia was actually keeping watch over Tog as he threaded his way around the rocks and out of sight.
All that screaming I did . . . did I summon bandits or blackguards, brigands or thieves? I wondered. Have they already killed Terrence and thrown his body away, and now they’re just waiting for the right moment to attack the rest of us?
Why hadn’t I been able to control myself? Why hadn’t all of us been quieter?
What could we do to save ourselves now?
Herk slid one small, grubby hand into mine, and I was amazed at how comforting that felt.
“Your face is turning white again,” Herk whispered. “Don’t worry. Tog and Terrence are the best fighters. Except, mostly they just fight with each other.”
They’re just boys, I wanted to say. Beggar boys, without a single weapon besides their own fists.
I craned my neck and started to look off in the same direction as Janelia. But that put me back in view of a huge expense of sky, which made me feel dizzy again. I looked back down at the rock, and focused on nibbling the bread. The bread was so hard it required concentration, and probably stronger teeth than I had. After a moment I gave up.
“I’m not very hungry,” I lied in a whisper to Herk. “Do you want the rest of my bread?”
Herk’s face lit up.
“Could I?” he asked. He glanced toward Janelia, as if waiting for her to intercede. But she was still staring off into the distance, watching for Tog and Terrence.
I nodded at Herk and handed over the bread.
“I’ll take half,” Herk whispered. “And I’ll give half to Tog and half to Terrence and half to Janelia.”
I wondered if I should tell Herk that was too many halves, or if I could leave that for Janelia to explain. But suddenly there were shouts in the distance, from the direction of the river.
Is it Tog? Terrence? Someone else? I wondered.
The shouting came nearer, and I could tell: It was Tog’s voice.
And then I could make out the words.
“He’s gone!” Tog screamed. “Terrence ran away!”
17
Janelia bolted down through the rocks, toward Tog.
“Are you sure?” she called to him. “What if he’s in danger?”
Tog had just climbed into view. Now he stopped with his back against a rock and snorted angrily.
“He abandoned us and you’re afraid he’s in danger?” Tog snarled at Janelia. “I can tell he left on his own. He used a stick to press the words ‘Good-bye, fools’ into the mud. And then there’s a single set of footprints back toward the city.”
I winced. Maybe Janelia and Herk did too, but I couldn’t look at them right now.
Terrence wouldn’t have run away if I hadn’t acted crazy, I thought. He was proud of being chosen to help a princess before that. And then he just saw me as crazy.
Was it truly that easy for rulers to lose their subjects’ trust? Was one slipup, one moment of imperfection, really all it took?
I saw Janelia and Tog lock gazes.
“It was always his own choice whether to come with us or not,” Janelia said. She seemed to be trying hard to speak lightly. “We’ll do just as well without him.”
“Of course we will,” Tog said. “I didn’t want him to come in the first place.”
I wasn’t sure if they were trying to reassure me or Herk. I struggled to think of something to say that would sound both regal and as confident as Janelia and Tog.
Herk spoke first.
“Did he at least leave our water gourds behind?” he asked.
“No, but it’s summertime! We’ll find gourds along the way. And we can make do until we have a chance to dry them. We’ll be fine!” Janelia replied.
“We will,” Herk said, nodding. “I know we will.”
I saw that all three of them were play-acting, speaking just as dishonestly as anyone ever had back at the palace. But this was a different variety of dishonesty than I was used to. It seemed to have nothing but kindness at its heart.
Tog bent down and picked up the last gourd from the ground where Herk had left it.
“I’ll go back to the river and at least fill this up, so we have some water with us on the next leg of the trip,” he said.
Janelia was scanning the horizon.
“I’ll go with you, so I can cut down reeds,” she said. “Herk, you can keep watch over Princess Desmia while we’re gone, right?”
Herk nodded eagerly.
I had no idea what Janelia was talking about. Reeds? Why would she need to cut reeds? Tog and Janelia were probably going off to confer and figure out what to do without Terrence—and maybe to discuss the deeper, darker motives or dangers behind his leaving. Leaving me behind meant they were treating me like a child, like Herk: someone who needed to be kept in the dark and protected from unpleasant facts. As a princess, I should demand, Oh no, no, no. You do not leave me out of important conversations! You send Herk down to the river for water and we’ll have the important conversation right here. You tell me what you know and then you do what I decide.
But I still felt drained and wobbly and unsteady from my moments of screaming uncontrollably under that terrifying dome of sky. I didn’t trust my own brain to think clearly right now; I didn’t trust my own mouth to speak or hold back the necessary words.
Could it be that right now I trusted Tog and Janelia more than I trusted myself?
Was that safe?
18
The whole time Tog and Janelia were gone, Herk insisted on “standing lookout,” as he called it. He climbed up the rocks and peered out at the landscape for miles around—the same landscape that I hadn’t been able to bear seeing.
“Your Highness, I see no danger approaching from the east,” Herk called down to me. “I see no danger approaching from the north.”
He scrambled down from that rock, scurried over to another formation, climbed it, and called down, “No danger from the west or south!”
And then he started over again with the east.
It’s just a child’s game, I told myself. To keep him amused.
Except it wasn’t. I remembered Herk and Tog being outside the prison house at the exact right moment when I crashed through the glass and escaped from Madame Bisset. That hadn’t been a
matter of luck. Herk—and Tog—had been standing lookout then, too, watching and waiting for proof that I was still there, watching and waiting for the right moment to rescue me.
Lying on my stretcher now, with my bandaged feet and aching, muddled head, I felt less proud of my own role in escaping. If Herk and Tog hadn’t been there to help, I would have been caught again instantly; my greatest efforts only would have tipped off Madame Bisset that I didn’t trust her.
On my own, I never would have had a prayer of getting to Fridesia to search for Cecilia and the others, I told myself. Of course . . . I’m not sure how much of a prayer I have of getting there with Herk and Tog and Janelia.
Above me, Herk called out, once again, “No danger approaching from the east, Your Highness!”
Herk was so high up—and I was angled so deeply into the lower rocks—that I could see almost nothing of him scampering around. He stopped climbing for an instant, and I had a momentary view of his bony ankles, sticking out of the bottom of his ragged pants. Herk’s ankles looked so scrawny and fragile that I wondered that they could hold him up. And yet those scrawny ankles had carried him all the way out here; they’d held him up while he was carrying me.
I was surprised by tears stinging at my eyes.
You’ve never gotten sentimental about servants helping you before, I told myself.
Except, Herk and Tog and Janelia weren’t my servants. I’d never even offered to pay them.
When all this is over, I’ll reward them generously, I decided. I’ll announce the reward as soon as Tog and Janelia get back. I should have talked about it from the start. Maybe then Terrence would have stayed, if he’d known he was facing a big reward at the end.
But did I really want my life to depend on someone who only cared about getting my money?
Maybe it was better not to talk about rewards.
Tog and Janelia came back with grim expressions on their faces. Janelia crouched beside my stretcher while Tog climbed up on the rocks alongside Herk.
“Do you think you might be ready to start moving along now?” Janelia asked hesitantly. “Tog and I both think . . . well, it’s not likely that Terrence would hunt up any of your enemies back in the city and tell them where to find you, but . . .”
Palace of Lies Page 11