The Twelve Dancing Princesses

by K. M. Shea

  “Bridget, can you give us any information about them?” Quinn asked. “Are there any we should watch for, or any who are easier to approach than the others?”

  “What are their names?” Guy asked.

  Leigh nearly snorted her drink up her nose and coughed. “You don’t know the names of our royal family?”

  “There are twelve of them,” Guy said. “It doesn’t seem worth the effort.”

  “The oldest four are Alena, Brittany, and the twins Carrill and Cassya,” Bridget said. “They were born to the first queen: Queen Ita, who died in childbirth.”

  “Next is Diana and the second set of twins, Ellena and Eva,” Quinn recited. “They were born to the second queen—Lady Raya of Kozlovka. She died of a wasting disease.”

  “Finally, we have Flippa and the last two sets of twins: Ginna and Gisetta and Isotta and Isudora,” Bridget said. “Born to our dear Queen Orsina.”

  “When King Dirth insisted his children be named in alphabetical order, I thought he was a bit mad,” Leigh said. “But now, with twelve daughters, I can see it is quite helpful.”

  Guy blinked. “They skipped H?”

  “Queen Orsina is from Sole—they haven’t many names that start with the letter H, so she ignored the king’s obsession with organization and skipped a letter,” Bridget said.

  “Four sets of twins, eh?” Roy rubbed his chin. “That seems odd.”

  “Not all of them are identical, either,” Bridget added. “But King Dirth’s father was a twin, as was his great-grandmother. Some say it’s because when the elves made a pact with the royal family centuries ago, they blessed the royal family with great virility. I think it just runs in the family.”

  “Returning to Quinn’s original question, which of the princesses should we approach and which should we beware?” Kenneth asked.

  Leigh laughed. “What, you don’t want to discuss the twin-tendencies of our royal family?”

  “Carrill and Cassya are a pair of snakes,” Bridget said boldly. “Trust them only as far as you can throw a tree.”

  “But they’re so lovely,” Roy argued.

  “Yes, like a nightshade flower,” Bridget said, barely audible over the happy chatter of the other tavern patrons—and the song of the finch that had made a nest in the pine tree.

  “Can you really say such things about them so openly?” Leigh asked.

  Bridget shrugged. “We riders exist somewhat outside of the usual rules. We are not as powerful as nobles, but we don’t have to bow and scrape as they do either. Besides, if the king tries to remove me from my post, who will ride the red horses? They won’t submit to anyone else until I can no longer physically fulfill my role.”

  “Stay clear of Carrill and Cassya, got it. Any others?” Quinn asked.

  “Alena and Brittany won’t be of much help.” Bridget tipped back in her chair so it balanced on two legs. “Alena is rather self-fixated, and Brittany is as wary as a wild rabbit. If you’re hoping to squeeze out information, I’d say Flippa or Isotta and Isudora—the youngest twins. Those three are desperate for attention and will happily chatter your ear off. Ellena and Eva are on the shy side, where as Ginna and Gisetta keep to themselves and spend most of their time reading books or pursuing learning to some degree.”

  Quinn unrolled her parchment as she committed Bridget’s advice to memory. “I see. Thank you.”

  Roy took a slug of his drink and wiped his mouth off on his grubby sleeve. “Guy said he and Midnight had split up to talk to the volunteers today. What did you two find?”

  “Not much of note.” Guy scratched his head and stared at the pine tree sprouting out of the center of the tavern. “The stories are all the same—the volunteers fell deeply asleep, hearing nothing and seeing nothing until they were shaken awake the next morn.”

  “I think they were induced to sleep,” Quinn said. “All seven of the volunteers I spoke to recalled feeling especially groggy and dry mouthed the following morning.”

  “A sleeping tonic?” Kenneth asked.

  “In the wine,” Guy said. “All of my volunteers said the princesses gave them a flagon of wine to drink before bed.”

  Quinn nodded. “Mine said the same.”

  “Princess Brittany is interested in gardening,” Roy said. “She has a little garden of her own and grows mostly medicinal plants and herbs. She might have the knowledge necessary to make a sleeping tonic.”

  “Bridget, could you check with the palace servants?” Leigh asked. “Perhaps see how often the princesses have wine in their rooms?”

  Bridget shrugged. “Sure.”

  “When is the first night you spend in their rooms?” Kenneth asked Roy.

  “Two nights hence,” Roy said. “Though the king had not officially declared it given that I did not know if I would be out on patrol or not.”

  “So we keep turning over stones in the meantime—though I think Quinn and Guy are on to something,” Leigh said. “Even if you pretend to drink the wine, I’m not sure how you can move about without the princesses seeing you.”

  Quinn smiled and scooted her mug around the table. “I may have a solution to that.”

  It took Quinn a few minutes to tell the story of meeting Lady Enchantress Angelique and to explain the magical properties of her newly acquired cloak.

  Leigh whistled when Quinn finished her tale. “Now that is a tale worthy of a campfire.”

  “You said the cloak could hide two, right?” Roy asked. “Why don’t you come with me, then?”

  Quinn tilted her head. “How?”

  “Easy! You wear the cloak, and I’ll smuggle you into the princesses’ rooms. They’ll deliver the wine, and I’ll pretend to sleep. Then we can watch them in secret together!” Roy grinned and smacked the table with deep self-satisfaction.

  Guy shrugged. “It’s not a bad plan. If we’re wrong about the wine and Roy falls asleep anyway, Quinn would still be awake to watch the princesses.”

  “What about the rest of us?” Leigh asked.

  “What about you?” Roy asked.

  “How are we going to help watch the princesses?”

  “I have three nights,” Roy pointed out. “If Midnight and I can figure it out on the first night, we’ll be better prepared to smuggle you in the second night.”

  Bridget frowned. “You mean even if you figure out what they’re doing the first night, you don’t intend to immediately tell the king?”

  “Not immediately,” Roy said. “I’d like to have solid proof of our knowledge and create an action plan based on our findings.”

  Quinn rubbed her neck. “He has a point. Having two of us in the princesses’ chambers greatly increases our chances of revealing their mystery.”

  “Or their curse,” Roy piped in.

  “It is a good plan, but will you be okay?” Bridget asked. Based on the fire in her eyes, Bridget was talking about more than Quinn’s personal wellbeing.

  Quinn hesitated. Roy and I will be all but glued together when we’re hidden under the cloak. I’m not worried about tripping—we’ve trained together too much for that—but can I mentally take it? Quinn glanced around the table. Leigh’s mouth was collected in a doubtful twist, and Kenneth eyed Quinn like an all-knowing-nursemaid. I can. This is the best option, and I need to make peace with this. Quinn nodded crisply. “We’ll succeed.”

  Bridget narrowed her eyes at her but nodded in acceptance.

  “Well, then.” Leigh put her mug down with a thump. “We had best eat and start our preparations.”

  Roy held his mug aloft. “To Band Gallant. May our brotherhood succeed where warriors and nobles have not.”

  Guy held his mug aloft. “To Band Gallant. May Roy not disappear because of his brash actions.”

  Quinn winced and hurried to break the moment. “To Band Gallant. May we break curses and live out legends.”

  Kenneth obediently hefted his mug. “To Band Gallant. May we all show up for patrol on time and in a tidy manner.”

  Leigh l
aughed and picked up her mug to join her teammates. “To Band Gallant. May we all get eight hours of sleep tonight!”

  “Hey now,” Roy laughed. “Let’s not wish for the impossible.”

  The soldiers broke off into roars of laughter, but Bridget rolled her eyes. “You are all bizarre.”

  Quinn and her comrades ignored the Red Rider and clinked their mugs.

  “To Band Gallant!”

  Chapter 3

  An Elven Celebration

  Two nights later, Quinn crouched in the corner of what used to be a maid’s bedroom. Her thighs burned, but she dared not shift as Princess Alena and Princess Diana laughed at something Roy said.

  Offer him the wine and be done with it, Quinn thought. A drop of sweat rolled down the side of her face as her muscles cramped.

  She had successfully whisked in behind Roy and followed him through the princesses’ sitting room and into the maid’s bedroom—the room in which he was to sleep—though she was beginning to regret that her chosen corner was so close to the fireplace. Between crouching and the flickering flames, she was starting to get uncomfortably warm despite the cloak’s cooling charm.

  The princesses took turns trickling through the room, keeping Roy engaged in a steady stream of chatter and leaving Quinn unable to budge for the past hour. Stifling the desire to sigh, she reluctantly tuned back into the inane conversation.

  Quinn had hoped her salvation was at hand when Princess Alena had entered the room, bearing a flagon of wine and a goblet, but Roy just had to engage her in conversation!

  “I beg your pardon for my forwardness, Your Highness. I am, after all, a mere gardener’s boy.” Roy bowed lowly to Princess Alena.

  The oldest princess smiled, the picture of elegance. Not even a strand of her hair was out of place, though her smile seemed dutiful more than genuine. “Gardening is not a profession to be ashamed of,” she said graciously.

  “Absolutely,” Princess Diana—who was boisterous and fun-loving—nodded. “Besides, anyone who can stand tending to Father’s color-coded gardens and follow his demand for mathematically straight rows of flowers deserves great respect.”

  “I enjoy the gardens’ uniformity,” Roy said. “They are very organized.”

  “Brittany says they lack personality,” Princess Diana reported, referring to the princess most interested in gardening. “She very much wishes to see Prince Severin of Loire’s famed gardens, but…”

  When she trailed off, Quinn squinted at her from under the hood of her invisibility cloak. Did she trail off because she can’t speak of whatever keeps the sisters bound and in Navia? Or is it merely that she will not explain it?

  Quinn glanced at Roy, hoping he would further push the subject, but before he could, Princess Alena elegantly cut the topic off.

  “I’m afraid we must retire, though you have been a diverting speaking companion, Roy.” She offered him her pretty but rehearsed smile. “But please allow us to give you some refreshments since we have forced you to entertain us for the past hour.” The eldest princess poured Roy a cup of wine and handed it to him.

  I must give them credit—they worked the wine in quite naturally. Quinn pursed her lips as she watched Roy pretend to drink a mouthful of the wine and fake swallowing it. All the pleasant conversation would naturally lower a person’s guard against them, and with a princess directly handing a cup to them, a volunteer would not easily be able to refuse.

  After she and Guy had each spoken to several more volunteers—affirming that they had all drunken the wine—the members of Band Gallant were almost certain the wine contained a sleeping tonic of sorts. Their suspicions were further aroused when Bridget managed to confirm that the only time the princesses ever asked for a flagon of wine were the nights a volunteer stayed in their quarters.

  Princess Alena straightened and the slight smile on her lips turned bigger after Roy had taken several pretend sips. “It was pleasant to speak to you, Roy. We bid you good night.”

  Roy nodded and raised his goblet. “Good night, Your Highnesses. Thank you for your fine hospitality!”

  Princess Diana smiled and waved as she followed her older sister out of the maid’s room and into the princess’s shared sitting room.

  Quinn finally dared to unfold herself from her uncomfortable position and crept to the door to watch the princesses.

  Princess Alena glided across the sitting room and nodded when she met the gaze of Princess Brittany—the only sister in the room. Alena and Brittany murmured to each other in lowered tones.

  “Dump the wine,” Quinn whispered to Roy.

  Roy lunged across the room and grabbed a basin—which was meant to be filled with water to wash one’s face or hands. He hurriedly dumped the goblet of wine and half the flagon into the basin before hiding it under his bed.

  Quinn placed her hand on the doorframe as she watched Princess Diana skip past her sisters, disappearing into the royal bedchamber the girls shared—which reportedly was quite big. Bridget said the room used to be a meeting chamber used for royal conferences and private audiences before it had been converted for the princesses back before Isotta and Isudora were born.

  Alena and Brittany glanced in Quinn’s direction before following their little sister, the door closing behind them.

  “After that little show, I’m fairly certain they do something to the wine,” Quinn said quietly.

  “It must be for a good reason.” Roy placed his goblet and the flagon on a little stand. “The princesses are far too kind to do something so underhanded if they didn’t have to.”

  “Perhaps,” Quinn said. Roy could be right, but she was not about to begin making character judgements before they uncovered what occupied the princesses every night and caused them to dance their shoes to bits.

  Roy settled down into the bed, arranging himself so one arm dangled over the side of the straw-stuffed mattress, and his legs were spread wide. “Tell me if they reappear so I can start snoring.”

  “Of course.” Quinn quietly slipped into the sitting room, this time taking a post near the princesses’ bedroom. She could hear the quiet murmur of feminine voices as she settled in to wait.

  Approximately an hour later, Quinn heard the voices draw close to the door. She ghosted back to Roy’s room. “They’re coming.”

  Her band mate shut his eyes and snored rather convincingly just as the princesses Alena and Brittany slipped from their room.

  Quinn flattened herself against the wall as the princesses crossed the sitting room and glided into the maid’s room.

  Princess Brittany glanced from the flagon to Roy. “He’ll be out for the night,” she said as Roy snored on.

  “Good.” Princess Alena retrieved the wine. “You’ll dispose of the rest tomorrow?”

  Brittany nodded, taking the flagon when her older sister offered it to her. She frowned slightly as she studied the dozing Roy. “I don’t like this. It seems odd that Father is giving this man three nights that are not in succession.”

  Princess Alena raised an eyebrow. “Is that really something to worry over? He’s a simpleton. He’ll drink the wine every time.”

  Instead of feeling elated that her guess about the laced wine was correct, the revelation made Quinn pause. No matter what Roy says, it takes a certain amount of ruthlessness to drug someone without their knowing it…

  “Perhaps, but he doesn’t look like a gardener’s boy,” Brittany said. “He’s too old and too muscled in different ways.”

  Yes, definitely ruthless. Why else would they take note of such things?

  Roy scratched his chest and smacked his lips a bit before settling back into another round of convincing snores.

  “Alena, Brittany!” Princess Carril and Princess Cassya, the oldest set of twins, stomped into the room with sharp frowns pinching their pretty faces. “Come. We mustn’t be late!”

  “Coming.” Alena followed the twins back into the sitting room, though Brittany lingered in the doorway to watch.

  Qu
inn, treading as quietly as she could, followed her to the door and watched the four sisters disappear back into their bedroom. She then returned to the maid’s room, stepped into the shadows, and twitched the cloak off her shoulders to reveal herself. “Roy, now.”

  Roy sprang up from the bed and joined Quinn, pulling the cloak over them so the invisibility spell settled across their shoulders. They stood so close together, Roy’s breath stirred strands of Quinn’s hair, and while standing still, they brushed each other. Roy’s scent, a vaguely foresty smell, tickled her nose and—

  Don’t, Quinn warned herself, cutting the thought off.

  Moving in synch, they crept across the sitting room, breathing lightly as they stood in the doorway of the princesses’ bedroom.

  All of the royal sisters were up, yawning as they put slippers on their feet and twisted strands of their hair into artful half-braids.

  Isotta and Isudora, the youngest of the girls, stood together as their older sisters, Ellena and Eva, laced up the backs of their dresses.

  “I don’t want to go,” the one Quinn thought was Isudora said.

  “I’m tired,” Isotta added.

  “My feet hurt,” Isudora said.

  “We don’t have a choice.” Brittany said, her fingers occupied as she braided Gianna’s hair. “We must go.”

  “You are all ungrateful,” Cassya declared as she preened in front of a mirror.

  “I agree. Many girls would love to be in your shoes!” Carril switched out the ribbon she had pulled her hair back in, then slapped her cheeks to bring color to them.

  Flippa, who was splayed out on a settee—her hair mussed and her dress crumpled—scowled at the ceiling. “They’re welcome to trade places. But I forgot, that is impossible, because of you two!”

  “Enough, Flippa.” Alena handed Gisetta a pair of slippers. “We’ve discussed the topic into exhaustion. What’s done is done.”

  Flippa folded her arms across her chest. “Easy enough for you to say. I hate dancing!”