Princess Juniper of Torr

by Ammi-Joan Paquette

  Then the wagon door burst open, and there, framed in the cheerful yellow opening and looking every bit her fierce, glorious self, was Alta.

  Juniper ran to her friend. It had been too long!

  • • •

  Minutes later, the whole crew had packed inside the wagon, with Alta and the rest of Team Bobcat: Paul, Toby, Roddy, Sussi, and Filbert. Triple bunks were hooked onto each of the walls, and the kids clustered on the lowest of them (the top two were shut, for maximum sitting space). In no time they were tripping over their words in their eagerness to catch up on news and start swapping stories and adventures.

  “Balancing Bobcats, eh?” Leena quipped, and titters of laughter followed.

  “I did the painting myself,” said Sussi with pride.

  “It’s . . . striking,” said Erick.

  “To be sure,” said Juniper. “Rendered with great, er, passion!”

  “As you’d hoped, that costume salesman sold us bunches of his stock for a fine price, and directed us where to get the wagon, to boot,” said Alta. “The name of our group just wrote itself.” She coughed. “So to speak.”

  “What sorts of costumes?” asked Leena.

  Paul reached under the bunk and yanked out a dramatic armful of brightly colored cloth. “We are all to be creatures, don’t you see? Birds and balancing beasts aplenty!”

  The room dissolved into general laughter, and Paul grinned along with the rest. Then a thought occurred to Juniper. “What happened to all the horses? I saw only a couple out there with the wagon—we should have a dozen kicking around!”

  “Ah, yes,” said Toby. “After Root added all your beasts to our own, we knew we couldn’t keep the whole pack of them here.”

  “They stood out like red on white,” Filbert confirmed.

  “We found someone a ways out willing to stable them for us through the festival. Gave him all the money I had, and promised him more besides when we come back to collect. I, er, hope that’s all right?” Toby looked suddenly uncertain.

  “Absolutely,” said Juniper. “We’ll have coin aplenty once we pull off this coup. Whatever gets us there the smoothest is good in my book.”

  “I saved all the saddlebags and the stuff in them,” Root said.

  Oona perked up. “Jess asked me about that. She said to make sure I bring back all her salves and ointments.”

  “They’re in the storage compartment below the wagon,” Root said, “just outside. If you want to, er, come with me and get them?”

  Beaming ecstatically and apparently lost in a world all their own, Root and Oona wafted down the teetering staircase leading outside, while everyone else fought their urge to gag at the syrupy display.

  Juniper turned back to the group. “About the balancing,” she said. “You’re sure you all can pull off the right kind of tricks?”

  “We’ve been practicing,” said Roddy. “I’ve been drawing diagrams and schematics. Now we just need time to get the routine perfect.”

  “Time I’m not sure we have,” said Alta with a sigh. “But never mind that. We just have to play the part, right? No one said we had to be any good.”

  Juniper tilted her head. “Um. Well. About that.”

  And so the catching-up process kicked off in earnest, one story leading to another and on late into the night, as the transplanted Queen’s Basin group pushed in tightly together and planned and plotted, getting ready for when they would join forces to take on Torr Castle.

  Slowly, steadily, a plan took shape. They talked it through, looked at it from all angles. It could work. Not a racehorse of a plan, perhaps, but a good solid steed that should get them where they were going.

  So. Two days left until Summerfest, and the plan was in place. There were variables, sure. Not least of these were the Bobcats’ auditions, and whether Egg would be successful at getting them a way into the dungeon, and the many other moving parts that had to clip into place to make their effort a success.

  All that wasn’t too much to hope for, was it?

  14

  WHEN THE CHATTER AND DISCUSSION AND celebration finally wound down, it was late night and well past time for the Goshawks to head for the palace. At some point in the evening, Oona had erupted in a round of spontaneous cartwheeling with her sister Sussi, and ended up electing to stay with Team Bobcat. A bit worried about a big group trying to sneak back into the palace, Juniper suggested that Root and Leena stay out overnight as well, to which both agreed. On the morrow, the two would enter the grounds along with the Bobcats, then slip away once they were inside and use the Pockets to head to the Aerie. That left Erick, Juniper, and Tippy to hug their friends good-bye and get ready to sneak back into the castle.

  Juniper had been thinking a lot about whether any of the palace staff might recognize her as the crown princess.

  Erick thought not. “There’s no way. Not with your—” He waved vaguely at her short, dark hair and her rumpled britches. “Your ‘new look.’”

  Juniper still wasn’t sure, but Leena agreed. “People see what they expect to,” she said. “Juniper Torrence will be nowhere near their minds—count on it.”

  “It’s not as though it’s the regular castle staff on duty anyway,” said Root. He frowned. “Most of the ones who would have truly paid attention are locked away, and more’s the pity.”

  “That’s what we’re here to fix,” said Oona. She put a timid hand next to Root’s on the table, so close that the very tips of their fingers were touching. They both went very pink and very silent.

  “Ahem,” Juniper said. “All right, then. Off we go. I can see that things shall do quite fine back here in our absence.”

  • • •

  At the last moment, Juniper swapped a coin for an oversized lollipop from a late-night sweets merchant. With her tousled hair tugged across her face, her boots crusted with mud (her cape had stayed in the Aerie, for better sneaking and lurking), and now a giant sweet jamming up the whole left side of her face, Juniper breezed through the watchpoint without getting a second glance. To Tippy’s disappointment, the guards didn’t even want to hear her long prepared story about new recruits for the kitchens. They just waved in a bored way and said, “More of the press-gang! In you go, then—join the masses.”

  Juniper had never been happier for a lazy work ethic in her life—or perhaps overworked was a better word for it; after all, these were the same guards they’d seen on the way out, hours and hours earlier.

  Leaving Team Bobcat behind had been surprisingly difficult after being reunited such a short time, but now Juniper’s mind—behind the tooth-aching sweetness of the lollipop—was buzzing with the plans they had sketched out together. At last, they had something solid and real to push toward, a concrete way to bring the fight inside the palace.

  And they had their top-secret weapon, too. Juniper had taken Paul aside just before they set out and whispered long into his ear. He received the instructions seriously, asked a few questions, then saddled up his horse and galloped off into the night. He would be traveling all the way up the Hourglass Mountains, back into the Anju territory. When they’d last parted, Zetta had assured Juniper that she and her people would support Torr if there was need.

  Well, there was need.

  Now it remained to be seen whether the Anju would be true to their word. And if so, how long it would take them to gather their forces and reach the palace. After all, the Anju traveled on foot, not by horseback; getting here from their high mountain village could take many days. In truth, the outcome of Paul’s long and grueling ride was uncertain at best.

  But then, wasn’t uncertainty the very name of this venture?

  So much bulk often hung upon the thinnest of spines. All Juniper could do was set the body in motion and hope that the rest would follow in due time.

  • • •

  All these thoughts distracted Juniper as th
ey dashed through the dark midnight palace on their way to the nearest Pocket. Then they came around a corner in the west hallway—almost to their entry point, but not quite—and there, just ahead, was Cyril. He hadn’t seen them yet; he was frowning down at a thick sheaf of parchment, which held his full attention. But at this late hour, the hallway was otherwise completely empty.

  In another moment, he would look up and see them.

  It would all be over.

  Juniper didn’t fear so much for herself; her foppish cousin could scarcely recognize her under this filth and candied sugar, particularly with her short hair and boys’ clothing. But Erick and Tippy looked every bit themselves, just as Cyril had known them these last weeks in the Basin. The same outfits, even.

  How had they not thought to guard against this?

  Just behind her, Tippy froze. Juniper waved a hand. They had to keep moving; an awkward stop would just make Cyril look up sooner. Maybe he wouldn’t look up at all?

  Cyril let out a weary sigh and rubbed his eyes. She could see it starting to happen as though in slow motion: the rustling of papers, the tightening of his lips, the slow shifting of his gaze.

  Acting on impulse, Juniper ran. She tucked her head into her chest and plowed straight for Cyril. His gaze met hers at the last second, but too late: She caught him square in the midsection. Arms windmilling, sheaf of parchment flying, Cyril toppled backward with a winded Oof!

  Getting the idea, Tippy and Erick ran for the Pocket. Juniper scrambled to her feet, edged behind Cyril, and nudged him back to sitting. His eyes were watery and he was panting for breath.

  “Ther’, ther’, Mister Lefarge, only you were all a-dreamy-like and didn’t see me coming for bread or for coin! I’m terribly sorry, I is, couldn’t be sorrier. An’ I wish I could stay and apologize longer, but alas, I must bolt.”

  She clapped him awkwardly on the shoulder, then turned and ran, suppressing a pang of guilt. Traitor or not, Cyril had gotten himself a pretty good knockdown.

  “Hey, you! Boy!” she heard behind her, in a weak and gargling rasp.

  Then she cleared the corner and joined the other two in the safety of the Pockets.

  • • •

  They found Egg and Jess waiting up for them in the Aerie. Egg was still busy with her metal scraps—her fingers grayer and more rusty-looking than ever—now hard at work with several new implements. Her usually tidy braid was askew and her lips flattened in fierce concentration. Jess (perfectly turned out as usual; no dishevelment for her!) had donned a new set of calfskin gloves and was stirring a pot of some cream or other, while Fleeter purred at her feet. Both girls set aside their projects while Juniper and Erick caught them up on recent events, including the near catastrophic run-in with Cyril.

  “Too close for comfort,” said Erick, his face still shiny with sweat. “But I’m happy to say it wasn’t for nothing.” With a flourish, he whipped a sheet of parchment from his inner vest pocket.

  “You got that off Cyril?” said Juniper, impressed.

  “Off the floor, technically,” said Erick. “His pile went every which way, and I figured it couldn’t hurt to know what had him so absorbed.” With that, he leaned over to study it, and Juniper scooted near to look as well.

  “And?” said Jess. “What is it, then?”

  Erick frowned. “It looks like . . . medical charts? This might be body temperature; there are lists of medicines . . .”

  Juniper couldn’t make heads or tails of it. “It’s complicated, all right. But look here—that’s dated a week ago.”

  “Someone who was sick a week ago,” said Tippy.

  “There was a mighty sheaf of papers in that stack—a complete medical record, looked like.”

  Erick and Juniper looked at each other. “Rupert Lefarge.”

  Jess nodded. “Yes. But why is Cyril studying his father’s medical records so intently in the dead of night? What could he possibly want with them?”

  Juniper shook her head. “Well, let’s file that away and think about it more tomorrow. It’s so late, it’s almost gone early again. Still, let’s be double careful getting around the palace from here on out. We can’t take any risks, not when we’re so close.”

  “So Team Bobcat will be ready for tomorrow?” asked Jess. “Did you see them perform?”

  “They say they’ll be ready,” said Erick.

  “I bet they’re marvelous,” said Tippy. “Light as feathers, the lot of them.” She got on tiptoes to demonstrate, although the main takeaway ended up being that it was a good thing Tippy was not part of the Balancing Bobcats.

  • • •

  In the end, the Bobcats and their skills came through spectacularly. By craning rather perilously out one of the Aerie’s windows, the more curious Goshawks were able to follow the open-air tryouts. They couldn’t see much detail from that height and angle, but the group looked sharp and professional—not to mention exceptionally colorful. (Which might have done the trick on its own, honestly.)

  The more Juniper watched how they blended and wove as a group, crouching and toppling and twirling, the more she could tell that the energy she’d sensed when they’d all gathered in the wagon wasn’t just about keeping to a plan. They wanted to be good at what they did, sure. But it was more than that: Honestly, they looked like they were having a wagonload of fun.

  From the hearty cheers that the group sent up after the organizers gave their decision, it looked like the Balancing Bobcats were officially on the roster of Summerfest entertainers.

  • • •

  Still riding the high wave of the Bobcats’ enthusiasm, Juniper and the rest of the Goshawks (including Root and Leena, who had made it safely back up to the Aerie) recounted the new plan to Jess, who relayed it in detail to Egg. The very next day was Summerfest Eve: the day that would officially kick off the festivities. On that evening, the palace always hosted a special gala to celebrate the nobles, dignitaries, and high-placed invitees who were sufficiently in the palace’s good graces to get on the exclusive guest list. Based on their spying, the gala was proceeding as planned.

  On the morning after that, Summerfest would begin. Bright and early on Day 1, the castle gates would open wide to let in the crowds who had eagerly awaited this event all year long. In honor of his people, King Regis always had the palace and the grounds specially decked out, and this year looked as busy as ever. A giant stage had been set up in front of the decorative fountain in the Small Gardens, which would be used by the approved performers. From her high vantage point, Juniper could see crowds already in line at the gates—a full day in advance!—made up of early birds eager to get first pick at the food and viewing pleasures afforded by Torr Castle.

  And here was the first stage of their plan: Dilute. They would wait till as much of the crowd was inside the gate as possible. All those additional bodies would redirect most of the guards to manning the gates and to patrolling and monitoring the gardens and grounds.

  “That’s when we’ll start to make our move,” said Juniper.

  “And we’re really sure about this move?” asked Jess.

  Juniper sighed. “It’s our only shot right now, and honestly, I think it’s a good one. We have to count on the support of the townspeople and villagers. They’re citizens of Torr, every one of them. They have no titles or lands or positions to be bought off by the Mantis and her ilk. They love my father, they love me, and many loved my mother more than their own family, for all she did for them.”

  Thus was the plan’s second stage: Divert. The members of Goshawk and Bobcat, by then having accessed the castle grounds, would skim through the crowds, exposing Malvinia Lefarge’s treachery and her nefarious plans to the common people and telling them to spread the word out farther.

  “Don’t you see? Everyone is wondering what’s become of King Regis. The Mantis is going to put about some sob story, some tragic reason wh
y the king has been ‘away’ these past weeks. Who knows what bogus tale she’ll make up to yank the wool over people’s eyes? But whatever it is, all we need to do is get the truth out there. That’s it! We’ll lay bare her betrayal and her double-dealings. Tell them she’s got the real, true king locked up, and that she’s stealing the throne out from under him as surely as we’re standing right there!” Juniper fought to control herself. “We do this, and they’ll be eating out of our hands.”

  “If you say so,” said Jess, looking uncertain.

  Finally would come the third phase: Deploy. The newly enlightened crowds would begin making a fuss, heckling and challenging and perhaps even storming the Mantis’s throne just a little. Juniper allowed herself the luxury of imagining a little roughing up for the impostor, but the truth was, the false queen would have guards all around her. Which was part of this step, too.

  “Even more guards will be drawn away to deal with the ruckus,” Juniper summarized, “protecting their charge and maybe starting to herd people out of the castle grounds. Either way, they’ll be kept busy. That’s when we head for the dungeons.”

  “They won’t leave them unguarded,” said Erick.

  “No,” said Juniper, “but you know a rabble-rousing crowd will be seen as a bigger threat than a bunch of locked-up prisoners. They might leave a token watchman, but mark my words, if there’s a big enough clatter out of doors, the guards will clear out of that hallway like flies off a clean sheet. Not for long, mind you, but they will go.”

  “Not only that,” said Tippy, “but His Woefully Locked-Up Majesty will be ready for us. Right?” She looked at Juniper, who nodded.

  “I’ve given Tippy the blue stone that was my mother’s. She’s going to put it in his food tomorrow.”

  “How exactly is the king to know this mysterious blue stone is a message from you?” asked Jess.

  “It was a gift from my grandmother Odessa,” said Juniper. “It’s clearly not a Torrean stone—I believe it will be distinctive enough to betray its Anju origins. If he doesn’t figure out the stone is from me, he will at least know something is going on. My father is a smart man. He will be on the alert, and ready to leap to action when the moment arrives.”