Lyric cocked his head at me, as if to say, You’ve only now figured this out?
“It’s not like I had someone telling me this stuff,” I told the bird. “You haven’t helped much. I’ve had to figure it all out by myself.”
Lyric whistled at me.
I decided to ignore that and picked up the cage.
“The Princess wants you back,” I said. “I’m taking you to the dressing room.”
Lyric banged his beak on the bars of his swing, but I held firmly to the cage’s handle and turned to go. Behind me the dresses perked up, waving sleeves and ribbons, twirling laces.
I’d forgotten about them. I was glad they were back and not holding my misdeeds against me. A ruffle flared out at me, vying for my attention. I batted it aside.
“Hey, I’m glad to see you, ladies,” I said. “But I have to leave—it’s an emergency.”
And then I beat it out of there before they could pressure me into giving in. The wardrobe hall was empty and so was the dressing room. I hung Lyric’s cage on its stand. He shook out his wings and sang.
Lyric was happy. Princess Mariposa was happy when she came up to dress for dinner and found him serenading her. But I knew the dresses were not.
So that evening I snuck into the dressing room and borrowed the canary. Not that the Head Steward would have called it borrowing, but I did intend to put him back. Someone had to stop this wedding from happening.
Lyric sang the moment I took him into the closet, waking the dresses with a ripple of excitement. Skirts billowed. Sleeves flared.
“The Princess has called for the regalia; she means to marry Prince Baltazar, and he means to release the dragons,” I cried to them.
Bodices swelled. Ribbons shook. Jewels gleamed in the dim closet like burning coals.
“Are you with me?”
The dresses strained at their hangers as if they would pull free and do battle for the Princess.
I set Lyric down on his table. I heard a thump behind me and turned to find hanger sixty-eight empty and a dusty-rose gown pooling on the carpet, its skirt flowing toward me.
“That one?” I asked Lyric, taking a step back from the overzealous dress.
He chirped his approval. I knelt down and picked it up. It was not the sort of dress I pictured heroines wearing as they rode into battle. Layers of dusty-rose chiffon gathered into a satin bodice with a bouquet of chiffon roses on the shoulders. But you didn’t judge a dress by its fabric.
“Let’s go get them,” I told Sixty-Eight, and slipped it on.
It gripped me like a Laundress wringing out a shirt. I gasped, sucking in air. Then it snuggled into a perfect fit and did a jig around my knees with its many layers.
“Settle down,” I said. “You can’t draw attention to us or we’ll be in serious trouble. Who’ll save the Princess then?”
Sixty-Eight flounced once more and then lay quietly. In the mirror, a tall woman greeted me with a piercing stare. Streaks of pure white laced her dark hair. High cheekbones, a long nose, and sharp blue eyes belied the bloom on her cheeks. Wearing a dark sapphire-blue dress with a high collar and a dazzling array of sapphires around her neck, she could have been Queen Candace herself. Or what I imagined Queen Candace to look like. I didn’t know this imperious lady’s name, but I’d seen her around the castle. Servants scurried out of her path. If anyone could follow Prince Baltazar without being questioned, it was her!
“I’ll be back,” I told Lyric, and set out.
I swept through the castle. Guards saluted me as I passed. Footmen bowed. I rounded a corner and there was Mrs. Pepperwhistle. My heart skipped a beat. She sank into a curtsy. I nodded at her and walked on. A trickle of sweat ran down my back. But she hadn’t seen me—she’d seen Imperious Lady, whoever she was.
The rumble of conversation reached me from the mirrored hall. Something was happening in there. I strolled in, praying that Imperious Lady was nowhere in sight.
“Good evening, Baroness,” said a man wearing a red coat.
“Good evening,” I replied, glancing around the room. I was Baroness Imperious Lady.
The mirrored hall sparkled like a forest of glass. Great gold-framed mirrors reflected everything in the room, including the other mirrors, creating a kaleidoscope of colors and faces.
I caught sight of the Imperious Baroness and her piercing gaze in the mirror next to me. My heart froze. I turned around. The Baroness stared at me from every direction. It was only a reflection. I relaxed and began combing the room for Prince Baltazar.
People spoke to me, wishing me a good evening, calling me Lady Kaye, murmuring to their companions that this was the Baroness Azure. I nodded grandly at each one. My nods inspired warm smiles. Whoever this Baroness Lady Kaye Azure was, people wanted her approval.
Halfway down the room, I noticed an open door. I heard voices and peered in. Prince Baltazar, Princess Mariposa, and Prince Sterling stood together over a large map spread out on a table.
“Good evening, Baroness,” Princess Mariposa said. “We were admiring this new map, a wedding gift from Prince Sterling. Doesn’t it have brilliant color?”
The map blazed in rich greens, blues, and reds, depicting a line of kingdoms, big and small, up and down the coastline. Eliora occupied the center, pinched between the White Sea and a range of mountains. Beyond the mountains sat the small kingdom of Tamzin. I wrinkled my nose; the name sounded familiar.
“Candala is a lovely shade of yellow,” Prince Sterling said.
Prince Baltazar’s lip curled at that, and he adjusted the map so that it faced away from Prince Sterling. Lemon-bright Candala lay far to the south, at the bottom of the map.
“Are you certain we shouldn’t postpone the wedding until your family can arrive?” Princess Mariposa said, laying a hand on Prince Baltazar’s sleeve.
He smiled at her with his weasel-like charm. “As an orphan, I have no family to send for.”
“Oh,” Princess Mariposa said.
“Tell me about Candala. What is it like?” Prince Sterling pressed.
“Paradise,” Prince Baltazar replied. “Candala is known for its lakes.”
My attention drifted back to Tamzin. Tamzin. Where had I seen that name before?
“It must be difficult to leave paradise for little Eliora,” Prince Sterling replied, rolling up the map.
Prince Baltazar flushed to the roots of his wavy blond hair, branding Prince Sterling with a scorching look. He regained his composure with an effort, turning to the Princess and taking her hands in his.
“I intend to reside here, with you, my love,” Prince Baltazar murmured, caressing the Princess’s hands. “Compared with you, my kingdom means nothing to me.”
Prince Sterling looked as disgusted as I felt. He slid the map into a leather tube and capped it. For a moment, he favored the Prince with a hard glance as if about to speak his mind. Then the Princess caught his eye, and his face softened into a warm smile.
“Your people will rejoice to see you crowned Queen at last,” Prince Sterling told her.
“You should have crowned yourself Queen long ago,” Prince Baltazar said.
The Princess blushed a deep scarlet. “My father’s will,” she replied, “dictated that I become Queen when I married.”
“And you’ve honored your father’s wishes,” Prince Sterling agreed.
Prince Baltazar laughed. “I would think you could do whatever you wanted.”
I thought of Prince Humphrey’s butterfly and her father’s wish that the two marry when they grew up.
“He just meant for you to be happy,” I said, forgetting that I wasn’t really a baroness.
“He did,” Princess Mariposa said, surprised.
Prince Baltazar squeezed her waist. “I’ll make you very happy, my love.”
Prince Sterling buried his balled fist in his pocket. I hoped he’d slap the smirk off the Prince’s laughing face, but he didn’t. I wished I knew some clever questions a baroness could ask that would make
Prince Baltazar reveal his true colors before it was too late. But nothing came to me.
“I’ll have this map framed for Your Highness,” Prince Sterling said.
As the Princess expressed her thanks, I glanced around, wondering where in the clutter of maps she would hang it, and saw a flash of white tail on a bookshelf.
I drifted about the room admiring the maps. At the bookshelf, I pulled a thick volume off a shelf and flipped it open, scanning the shelves for any sign of that white tail.
A tiny white head ducked out from behind a bookend shaped like a porpoise. Two black eyes blinked at me. Iago! I nearly staggered with relief. He was all right.
“I’ll talk to you upstairs,” I whispered.
At this, he shook his head violently. He pointed to the bookshelf behind him.
I looked, but other than the porpoise, I couldn’t see anything but old books.
Is it in a book? I mouthed, wondering what it might be.
He sighed. Then he put a paw to his heart and closed his eyes.
I waited until he opened them again, and then I guessed, “Are you afraid of the bookcase?”
This time, he shook so violently his whiskers had whiplash. He pointed up and to his heart and then he pointed at my wrist.
I shrugged, totally at a loss.
He sighed and vanished behind the porpoise. I waited as the heavy volume in my hands grew heavier, but he did not return. Finally, I put the book back and turned around to see what Prince Baltazar was up to now.
The room behind me was empty.
I had to keep tabs on the Prince. I had to find out who the Cloaked Lady was, and he was my only lead. I ducked my head out the door to look around the mirrored hall. And there right in front of me was an imperious silhouette in a sapphire-blue gown.
The Baroness stood two feet away, gesturing with a silver-capped cane. A knot of eager listeners surrounded her.
I ducked back into the map room. This was bad, very bad. I scrambled around the room for a place to hide and spotted a dark corner behind the bookcase. I sank down and melted into the wall.
I waited—and waited until every muscle ached and my knees turned to stone. I strained my ears for any sound, any hint that anyone was still in the hall, but heard only silence. At long last, I crept out and snuck a look around the doorway. The hall was empty; the lights were out. Only the reflected gleam of the mirrors played over the polished floor.
I’d missed my chance. The Princess had no doubt gone to bed long ago. And Prince Baltazar had gone too. Stewing with disappointment, I dragged Sixty-Eight back to the closet, put Lyric back in the dressing room, and crawled into bed, hoping that Iago would slip up onto my pillow and explain his cryptic messages. But if he did, I was already asleep.
The castle flooded with guests and every servant toiled from dawn until dark. Lindy volunteered me to press the monogrammed napkins for the feast. Each one had to be turned facedown and pressed into a thick towel to preserve the heavy raised embroideries in the corners. Lindy showed me the trick of it and then left me to slave away while she pressed acre after acre of tablecloths. Crate after crate of napkins arrived at my ironing board until my fingers cramped and my eyes crossed.
The servants soldiered on with grim expressions on their faces; the Princess’s wedding would be the most magnificent ever. Or else. Every inch of the castle was scrubbed and polished, every goblet and plate shined, every bit of linen laundered, pressed, and hung up waiting for the day. The halls in the east wing resembled a massive sailor’s ship, with flapping white cloths suspended from every wall.
I woke the morning of the wedding, stiff and sore.
“Everybody up,” Francesca called.
A chorus of groans sounded around me. I pulled my covers over my head. A crackling sounded beneath me. I slid my hand under my pillow and felt a paper under there.
“That means you too, Darling,” Francesca snapped, whipping my covers off my head.
I tucked my fist into my nightgown.
“I’m getting up,” I groused.
Francesca turned away to pounce on the girl in the next bed. I tucked the paper under my blanket and dressed quickly, sitting back down on my bed to pull on my stockings and retrieve the paper, which I stashed in my pocket. Everyone else yawned, rubbing tousled heads and squinting blearily. I scooped up a roll and left them fishing for their clothes.
I paused in an empty corridor to read my note. Faint wavy lines traced out the letters C-u-f-f. Cuff? What did that mean? I turned the note over, looking for any hint of who had written it. A handful of printed words were on the other side. Last over the wall, the print said. Had it been torn out of a book? I eyed the edges, which had a nibbled appearance. Was this a message from Iago?
Could mice write? Well, could magical mice who jumped out of plaster friezes write? I had no idea. I stuffed the paper back in my pocket and headed off to work.
Princess Mariposa stood before the mirror in the dressing room, transformed into a beautiful bride in a lace dress. Lace gloves hid the Princess’s hands. A long lace veil spilled from a diamond tiara set in her upswept ebony curls. Her changeable eyes turned a dark blue-green.
“Oh, goodness, Your Highness, if you don’t beat all!” Lindy exclaimed.
“Truly lovely,” Cherice agreed.
Lyric sang from his perch. I beamed at the Princess, too awed to speak.
A tall woman entered the room. Lady Kaye, Baroness Azure. She wore a green gown stiff with lace and embroidery and carried a cane I was pretty sure she didn’t need. I gulped hard.
“I’m here to escort you, Mariposa,” the Baroness said.
“Let’s go down,” the Princess agreed.
And they all left, Princess Mariposa on the Baroness’s arm. Lindy and Cherice followed, reluctant to let the Princess out of their sight. I stood there, my hand in my pocket toying with my note. A weight settled on my heart.
It was over now. In a couple of hours the wedding would commence and Prince Baltazar would become the new owner of the King’s regalia. The coronation of the two as King and Queen was scheduled for tomorrow. Prince Baltazar would be King Baltazar, ruler of Eliora and master of the dragons. I trembled at the thought.
Maybe I should grab Jane and make a run for it?
Coward, a voice in my head whispered to me.
My fists balled. My chin rose. I’d find the talisman myself and borrow it. Without the talisman, the dragons couldn’t be freed. I’d hide it…somewhere. I didn’t know where, but I’d think of some place. Some place outside the castle, maybe in the foothills beyond. It was a bold move, a dangerous move, but if I couldn’t keep the Princess from marrying that weasel, I’d at least protect her from the dragons.
Or my name wasn’t Darling Dimple!
“Lyric,” I said, “let’s get a dress!”
I snatched his cage off its hook and raced to Queen Candace’s closet. The dresses gleamed in the bright morning light as I set the cage down on the table. A whisper went through them. I faced One Hundred, hands on my hips.
“I need a dress, a special dress, a dress that will allow me to go anywhere. Which dress would that be?” I asked.
One Hundred shook itself out and, lifting a lace sleeve, pointed. I looked and saw Thirty-Three, a fawn-colored gown made of muslin and painted with bouquets of lilacs. A matching parasol hung from its hanger. It was the sort of ensemble that ladies wore on very warm afternoons. It looked like a frothy bit of fabric, but something about the way the bodice arched away from the hanger told me that this was one gown with steel in its seams.
“Do I need the parasol?” I asked the canary as I tugged on the dress. I pictured myself jabbing Prince Baltazar with its sharp metal point. “Should I take it in case I need a weapon?” I asked, settling Thirty-Three into place.
Lyric shook his head feathers.
“So no, I don’t?”
He let out a sharp note.
I cast a longing look at its substantial ivory handle carved into the sha
pe of an elephant. You could bash someone over the head with that. But then I’d have to keep track of it and I didn’t want anything hindering my mission.
Lyric trilled at me impatiently.
“I’ll leave it,” I told him. “Don’t nag.”
My stomach did a flip-flop as I contemplated what I was about to do.
“I might not come back this time,” I told Lyric and the dresses. “If I’m caught and captured, then, well, this is good-bye. So wish me luck.” I saluted One Hundred, throwing back my shoulders and standing proudly. “For the Princess!” I cried, and whirled around to leave.
A tall woman, with a swanlike neck and a pile of luscious blond curls, wearing a brilliant pink, lace-trimmed gown, greeted me in the mirror. Cherice. I was Cherice! This was the perfect disguise. I’d grab the talisman and skip outside to hide it. Piece of cake!
Well, it would be a piece of cake once I figured out what the talisman was.
I slipped through the Princess’s rooms with a shiver of anticipation. There was nothing in the bedroom, so I moved on to the sitting room. There, a series of gilt chests lay scattered around on the tables. The chests varied in size and decoration, but each had the royal crest mounted on top.
A long purple robe trimmed with ermine was draped over the sofa. I touched the robe; it was soft as snow. Gold-crusted epaulets rode on its shoulders and braided gold cords as thick as my fingers hung from both sides of the robe’s opening. From the portrait of King Richard, I knew that the cords would be tied across the King’s chest to keep the robe from falling off.
I surveyed the gilt chests. They held the greatest treasures of the kingdom, the King’s regalia. Each piece was worn for the coronation of a new king. The idea that I, Darling Dimple, Under-presser, would open these chests and gaze upon these treasures left me temporarily numb.
Thirty-Three quivered against me.
“I can’t just stand by and let those dragons be loosed. I have to do something,” I told it.
But the hollow in my stomach warned me that touching these treasures was a worse crime than any I’d ever thought of. These weren’t merely the possessions of Princess Mariposa’s grandfather, King Richard; these emblems of royal authority went back into the mists of time. Kings of Eliora had worn these as long as there had been a kingdom. Except for one piece, that is, the talisman. That had been made for Richard.
If the Magic Fits Page 16