The king didn’t respond. His gaze flicked to Rose and the shawl she still clutched about her shoulders. “My daughter Rose says that you may be able to help us.”
“Yes, sire.” Galen ignored the derisive snorts from the whispering councillor, glancing over at Rose instead. Her brows were drawn together in a worried expression, and when she met his eyes she seemed to be pleading with him. He didn’t dare ask her what she was thinking, but plunged ahead. “I would like to try my hand at solving the mystery of the dancing slippers from within the palace. As the late princes have done.”
“If the princesses would simply stop being coy,” one of the whispering men said, his voice carrying purposefully, “we would have no need of interruption by under-gardeners.” His companion snickered.
Angry that this man should dare to speak about Rose in such a tone, Galen addressed him directly. “Do you really think that the princesses would risk their lives, their reputations, simply to play games? Sir?”
The man opened and closed his mouth like a landed trout, his eyes angry. Galen turned his back on him and faced the king again.
“Your Majesty, if you will grant me three nights, I swear that I will solve this riddle or die trying.”
“You’re certain to die trying,” one of the councillors said with a sneer. “Better men than you already have.”
Both the king and Galen pretended not to hear, while Galen saw Rose’s expression darken out of the corner of his eye. The king studied Galen, and Galen looked back calmly.
“What makes you think that you have an advantage over the young men who have already tried? It’s hardly an indication of intelligence or cunning, but they were all of royal birth. I do not mean to offend you, young man, but you were given permission to roam the gardens at night because you claimed to have some sort of advantage over my guard. And, well …” The king trailed off, spreading his hands.
“I’m sure that the princes were all brave young men,” Galen said, although having met some of them, he didn’t think that was true at all. “And I would not, of course, expect the same treatment or the reward offered. But I served many years in Your Majesty’s army. I fought in battles and was sent on scouting missions to spy on the Analousians. I have been working some months now in the Queen’s Garden and am very familiar with the exterior of the palace and the grounds. And …” He hesitated, and then decided to be “coy,” as the councillors would say. “And I have a few other tricks up my sleeve.” He laid a finger alongside his nose and winked.
The councillors looked variously annoyed or derisive, but the king just looked thoughtful. “Very good,” he said, nodding. “Would you care to start tonight?”
“If it so pleases Your Majesty.”
“Indeed it does,” the king said. “We shall extend every courtesy to you, of course. It would not be fair, otherwise.”
“Your Majesty!” One of the king’s advisers rose to his feet, flabbergasted. “You can’t mean—”
“You shall join us for dinner,” the king said to Galen, talking over his councillor’s babble. “You shall have access to my daughters’ chambers tonight, chaperoned by their maids, of course.”
Galen bowed his head, “Of course.”
“And should you succeed …” The king pursed his lips. “Well. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
Bowing, Galen murmured his thanks. “I shall do my best to help you, Your Majesty. And your noble daughters.”
“You’d better,” the king said, not unkindly. “Rose, take him to the housekeeper. He shall have a room here for the next few days. You might want to have a rest before this evening. It’s going to be a long night.” The king looked as if he were going to have a long night as well and rather wished he could take a nap right now.
“Thank you again, sire,” Galen said, and bowed his way out of the room. Rose followed.
“Are you mad?” Rose asked as soon as the door closed behind them. “You’re going to fail, and then you’re going to die!”
But Galen tapped the side of his nose again and winked, even though his heart was racing. It thrilled him that she was concerned for his safety, but he put that out of his head with an effort. He was not trying to take advantage of her or her father while they were under duress from the archbishop.
“You are mad!” She stalked down the corridor.
He fell into step beside her. “I think it best if I have a rest, as your father suggested, before dinner,” he said in a conversational tone. “If I am to go dancing with you tonight, I want to have all my strength.”
Galen’s reward for this sally was seeing Rose’s cheeks turn bright red.
“I do hope that you will save a waltz for me, Your Highness. I dearly love to waltz. Do you?”
“Not anymore,” she said curtly. They had arrived at a small door at the end of a long passageway. She raised one hand to knock and then turned to Galen again. In a low voice she said, “Galen, please reconsider. You are signing your own death warrant by volunteering for this.”
He took her raised hand between both of his and squeezed her fist. “I understand that. But I won’t let you continue to suffer, Rose.”
She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. Then she extracted her hand and knocked. A plump woman in a white apron answered it promptly: the housekeeper had been having a cup of tea in her private sitting room, from the look of things.
“This is the housekeeper, Frau Kramer,” Princess Rose said. “Frau Kramer, this young fool is going to try to find out our secret. Please show him to a room.” She hurried away, leaving Galen and the housekeeper staring after her.
“I see,” Frau Kramer said after a moment. She looked at Galen curiously. “Aren’t you the head gardener’s nephew?”
“Yes, goodfrau.”
“What in the world are you doing in this accursed place?” She shook her head sadly. “You haven’t a hope. No one does. They dragged that fancy Bretoner governess off kicking and screaming not four hours ago.”
“I know a few tricks,” Galen said distractedly. He was still looking down the passageway in the direction Rose had gone. She cared for him! She did!
“Tricks? Of what sort?” She gave him a suspicious look.
“I’m invisible,” he said, and then gave a phony laugh to make her think it was a joke.
She didn’t find it amusing.
First night
Rose had been certain that her sisters would behave in a most embarrassing fashion at dinner, but she needn’t have worried. While several of them thought it desperately romantic that Galen was risking his life to save them, Anne’s arrest and their own impending investigation weighed too heavily on their hearts for them to do any teasing. And there was also the presence of Bishop Angier, the archbishop’s emissary, to add to the seriousness of the situation.
Even though this was supposed to be a private family dinner, Angier had included himself, sitting at the foot of the table like a dark cloud. Galen did not try to make conversation, but ate calmly and didn’t seem to notice Angier’s presence. Rose was relieved to see that Galen had excellent table manners: she hadn’t wanted him to embarrass himself in front of Jonquil and Daisy, who were both very critical of such things.
Finally the silence got to the bishop.
“Do you risk your immortal soul, young man?” Angier had a rasping voice, and a look of malevolent glee contorted his face. He appeared delighted at the thought that Galen might be facing down damnation.
“No, Your Excellency,” Galen said. “I don’t believe so.”
“You have come into a house where sorcery is practiced. Does that not frighten you?” The bishop pursed his thick lips. He was a large man without a single hair on his head. Rose thought he looked like uncooked dough. “It should frighten any God-fearing man.”
“I believe that the princesses are innocent,” Galen said calmly. “And I am merely here to discover what ill fortune is plaguing them.”
Rose marveled at his self-control. She was sh
redding a roll into tiny bits and doing her best not to shout something rude at Bishop Angier.
Across the table from her, Galen went on. “And with Your Excellency’s watchful presence here, I didn’t think that my soul could be endangered.”
Galen caught Rose’s eye and smiled.
“Do you smile, sir?” Angier was indignant. “Smile in the face of the horrors that have gone on here?”
This wiped the amused expressions off everyone’s faces. Pansy started to cry, and Petunia dropped her glass and spilled lemonade all over the white tablecloth.
“Your Excellency!” King Gregor flushed red. “There is no need for such talk in front of my daughters! They are too young to understand—”
“They are not too young to perpetrate these atrocities,” the bishop interrupted. Then he corrected himself quickly. “I mean, they are not too young to have been influenced by that governess’s terrible ways.”
Rose stiffened. She knew that poor Anne was being used as a scapegoat in this, but Angier made it obvious that his goal was to defame her family. She wished that he would leave Anne alone and confront her father like a man.
“With all respect, Your Excellency,” Galen said in a mild voice, “the only thing you can prove the princesses are guilty of is wearing out their shoes too often. None of the princes who have died in recent months met their fate on Westfalian soil. They perished in tragic yet normal accidents. That is, those who didn’t die at the hand of another prince.”
Poppy rapped on her glass with a knife to applaud Galen’s speech. Violet made an appreciative sound at the chiming of the silver on crystal, and began tapping her glass with a fork, her head cocked to one side. She hummed a little, trying to match the note. Iris, Lilac, and Orchid, with relieved expressions, all began tapping their glasses as well, trying to find a melody.
“Girls! Girls!” King Gregor looked shocked.
Rose and Lily exchanged glances. Such behavior was quite appallingly rude, but Rose could see that it was more a reaction to the stresses of the day than a lack of manners. She just shrugged at Lily, who smiled back faintly.
But it was all too much for Hyacinth. She had been stumbling about like a sleepwalker since Angier had arrived. And now the argument with the bishop and the chime of silverware on crystal broke her. She began to sob loudly into her napkin. “Stop it, stop it!”
“Hyacinth!” Rose got to her feet.
“I wish we’d never been born,” she wailed. “I wish we’d lost the war, too!” She threw down her napkin and fled the room.
“Very interesting,” the bishop said in his shrewd voice, steepling his fingers under his chin. “I wonder what she meant by that.” His small, sharp eyes sought out Rose’s, and she shuddered.
Recovering quickly, she made a polite curtsy to her father and then to the bishop. “May I be excused? I don’t think Hyacinth should be alone.”
“I would also like to go to her,” Lily said, rising to her feet. The rest of the girls rose as well, and Galen.
“And I should be keeping an eye on them,” he said, and bowed to the king and the bishop.
The king dismissed them and they all filed out. Galen took Rose’s arm as they went up the stairs to the sisters’ rooms. His arm was hard with muscle, and warm through the sleeve of his suit. Rose did her best not to clutch at him like she was drowning.
Inside their sitting room, Galen sat down in an armchair by the fire and took out the whatever it was he was knitting. Hyacinth was huddled in the window seat, weeping piteously. Rose went to her and sat down, pulling Hya into her arms while the other girls clustered around them, making sympathetic noises.
The younger set could not be expected to fuss over Hyacinth forever, though, and they drifted away to talk to Galen. Rose noticed that he was endlessly patient with them, not minding when Petunia unrolled one of his skeins of yarn to play cat’s cradle with the end. He sat Pansy on the arm of his chair and showed her how to knit.
Rose went over and sat in the chair across from Galen. He looked up at her, smiled, and went back to coaching Pansy, who finally set the puff ball he’d made for her aside to better use the needles. Mewing like a cat, Petunia came over and started to wind yarn around Rose’s skirts.
“So,” Rose said, and then couldn’t think of anything to say. “What was the war like?” she asked finally, feeling like a fool.
A shadow passed over Galen’s face, making Rose regret her question. “It was”—he glanced at Pansy’s bent head—“it was not pleasant,” he said shortly.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to open any old wounds,” she said, contrite.
“Wounds? Were you ever injured?” Orchid came over, her eyes wide with curiosity.
“A few times,” Galen replied. “Nothing serious.”
“Oh.” She sounded almost disappointed. “Walter Vogel lost a leg. But he says it wasn’t in the Analousian war.”
“I know.”
Orchid pursed her lips. “Do you think it hurt?”
“I’m sure it did,” Galen said grimly.
“Were you with your cousin Heinrich?” Orchid persisted. “Did you see him die?”
Galen looked up, clearly startled. “Did you know Heinrich, Your Highness? I never met him.”
“Of course,” Orchid said. “We all knew Heinrich. Especially Lily.”
Rose interrupted before Orchid could say anything else. “Orchid, your hair is coming out of its ribbons. Why don’t you find Maria and have her fix it?” She smiled stiffly at Galen. “Maria is our chief maid.”
Grumbling, Orchid went into one of the bedrooms. She returned a moment later. “She’s asleep on Iris’s bed,” she reported. “And she’s snoring.”
“Oh, dear.” Rose glanced at the clock. “No wonder, it’s nearly eleven.”
“Shouldn’t your maids wait up for you?” Galen raised one eyebrow.
“Well, yes, but she can’t because …” Rose’s voice died in her throat, courtesy of the enchantment. She closed her mouth with a snap and looked at Galen. He gazed mildly back at her without the slightest sign of sleepiness. Her eyes widened and her mind raced.
Why hadn’t he fallen asleep as well? What were they to do if he was wide awake at midnight? Hope rose in her bosom. If Galen could resist the sleeping spell that had affected all the other suitors, then he might be able to uncover their secret and … what? Die horribly? She grimaced, her hope fading.
“Is something the matter?” Galen gave her a bland look.
“Oh, look at the time!” Jonquil jumped to her feet, almost knocking Hyacinth off the window seat. “I’ve got to change my shoes and —Why is he awake?” She pointed in horror at Galen. Then she got ahold of herself, dropped her arm, and looked helplessly at Rose.
“If you’ll excuse us, I believe I need to talk to my sisters.” Rose smiled ingenuously at Galen as she untangled the yarn from her feet. She grabbed Petunia with one hand and Pansy with the other and all but ran into her bedroom. The rest of her sisters followed.
“He’s awake! It’s eleven o’clock!”
“Jonquil, keep your voice down,” Rose hissed. “Yes, he’s awake. I don’t know how or why, but he is.” She looked around. “Poppy, make sure he doesn’t eavesdrop.”
Grinning, Poppy went over to the door and opened it the barest crack. “He’s still sitting in the chair,” she whispered. “He put his yarn down, though, and he’s leaning back … he just yawned!”
Rose was a little suspicious of this, but she didn’t tell her sisters.
“There, you see?” Lily looked relieved. “It was just that Pansy and Petunia were climbing around him. That kept him awake. Now he’ll sleep and we can rest easy.”
“But …” Rose hesitated. “What if he did find out the truth?” Even speaking the words made her heart pound. “Would that be so bad?”
They all stared at her.
“Rose,” Lily said cautiously. She took Rose’s arm and led her away from the others. “Rose, what are you saying? There’s
nothing he can do to help us—no mortal can. He’s in grave enough danger as it is. If he learned the truth …” Lily shook her head sadly. “I hate to think what he would do if Galen tried to help us.”
“But we need help,” Rose said, her voice low and intense. “We can’t go on like this for six more years! Every night while we were ill we had to get dressed and dance until dawn; we’re lucky to have survived! Pansy is seven years old; she’s been dancing every night since she could walk. Another year and her sanity will break, I swear it. And you, can you keep on this way?”
“We don’t have a choice,” Lily said, shaking her head. Pansy had begun whimpering at Rose’s vehement words, and Lily picked her up and held her, though she was really too big for such treatment. “We must persevere. There’s no point in arguing about it, and neither Galen nor anyone else can help us. It’s folly to even let him try.” Lily paused, then asked delicately, “You do realize that this is a death sentence for him, don’t you?”
“No.” Rose shook her head. “Not Galen. He’s not like those useless princes. He knows how to fight, how to work. You of all people should appreciate that, Lily. Even if he doesn’t find a way to help us, he’ll survive.”
“I hope you’re right,” Lily said dubiously, but her cheeks had colored a little and a spark of hope lit her eyes. “Galen does remind me of …of Heinrich.”
Rose squeezed her arm.
“He’s asleep,” Poppy reported. “His head kept bobbing up and down for a while, but now he’s out cold and snoring.”
“Good, let’s get ready,” Jonquil said, and she flounced over to her dressing table to arrange her hair.
An hour later, when the sisters had all tied on their dancing shoes and arrayed themselves in their usual finery, Galen was sound asleep. Rose went over to him and tapped his shoulder, but he just snored on and she turned away.
Galen’s wing chair was turned toward the fire, so that the rug in the center of the room was mostly behind him. Still, Rose watched him nervously as Lily opened the secret entrance. His head had lolled against one of the wings in such a way that if he were to suddenly wake, he would be able to see them out of the corner of his eye. Lily went down the spiraling staircase first, and the rest of the sisters followed after. Still tense, Rose brought up the rear as they filed down into the darkness for the Midnight Ball.
Princess of the Midnight Ball Page 11