Rose and the Lost Princess

by Holly Webb

  In which case, the envoy had been suspicious before—which meant he already knew she wasn’t the real princess.

  Rose stabbed a golden fork into the salmon unseeingly, not even caring if she’d picked up the correct one from the array of seven or so at the side of her plate.

  She was sitting across the table from Jane’s kidnapper.

  The salmon tasted of nothing. Rose pushed it around her plate, and Gus watched it sadly. What should she do? She couldn’t possibly stand up and accuse the Talish envoy of kidnapping the princess. Even if it were true, it would cause the most enormous diplomatic upset, the sort of thing Freddie worried about his cousin Raphael doing. And what if she were wrong? It didn’t bear thinking about.

  Rose wished her magic was strong enough to talk silently to Freddie and Bella and ask for help, but she could only do it when she was speaking to someone very close—to the other side of the room, she had no chance. Gus was too taken up with the salmon, a tiny piece of which he’d hooked when no one was looking, and he would probably balk at relaying messages for her anyway. Rose stared desperately at Freddie, hoping to make him look at her, but he was looking at his plate and listening to something Bella was telling him.

  The glamour! Of course. She had Freddie and Bella’s magic tied to hers. Thinking hard, Rose wrapped a finger into one of her glamoured curls and twisted, calling them. Look at me! Freddie!

  Freddie sat up sharply and stared at her, then in response to her frown, pretended to be looking at the waterfall.

  What’s the matter?

  It’s Lord Venn! He’s a magician, and he stole Jane, I’m almost sure. What do I do?

  Freddie looked at Bella helplessly, and Bella gave a tiny shrug at Rose. They hadn’t planned for this.

  Rose’s job had been to keep the banquet going, not to disrupt it with news of a dangerous plot.

  What does Gus think? Freddie asked at last, and Rose felt Gus join the conversation, yawning, sated with salmon.

  Gus thinks he’s a dangerous lunatic and the middle of a state banquet is not the moment to expose him. Wait until afterward. Ask to speak to the king. It is your birthday, after all.

  Rose nodded very slightly. Wait. That was best. She picked halfheartedly at her duck with cherries and tried to listen to the king and Lord Venn carefully discussing the state of the navy.

  Rose’s napkin was a bedraggled rag from twisting it over and over by the time four small pages appeared carrying an enormous pink birthday cake. It had four tiers, crusted with frills and swags of pink and white and silver icing, and garlands of pink sugar roses. Eight candles sat around the top tier in silver holders, and the pages abandoned it gratefully in front of Rose.

  Lord Venn applauded, clapping his plump hands delicately, and smiled around at Rose and the king and queen. “Charming, charming! My dear princess, after you have cut your cake, you must honor me by opening a special present that we have brought with us from the emperor.” He looked questioningly at the king, who agreed with a gracious nod.

  The plump little man beamed and chuckled as Rose sliced into the first tier of the cake with a silver knife, but his smile chilled Rose. He didn’t mean it, not even as much as any jaded diplomat pandering to a spoiled princess. It was all a sham, she was sure. They wanted something, and she didn’t know what. The cake tasted like dust in her mouth, dry and powdery and sickly sweet, but she forced it down, smiling as hard as the traitor on the other side of the table. She had only one advantage in this game: that he did not know she had discovered him. She had to keep up the pretense.

  At last she had eaten it, and the Talish envoy was rising to speak, his waistcoat swelling like a fat pigeon. He beckoned to one of his aides to bring the present, and Rose heard not a word of his flowery speech. Holding the gold-wrapped gift, trailing yards of ribbons and flowers, was someone she knew—a tall, thin, white-faced man with colorless hair and ice-blue eyes. A man who had given her a present already. The man who had made the snow globes.

  Rose! Freddie was calling her urgently. Don’t open it!

  But the present was in her hands now, paraded to her by the page boys, and everyone was watching. She had to open it!

  She glanced worriedly at the king, trying to signal what was going on, trying to explain why she hadn’t started to untie the golden ribbons, but he only frowned and gestured toward the parcel.

  I know it’s a spell. A trick. I can open it carefully and not let it do whatever it’s supposed to. Then everyone will see what’s going on, Rose reasoned to herself, the thoughts flitting in a panic through her mind as she undid the first bow. Because I can feel him getting angry, and if I don’t open it, something awful is going to happen. He doesn’t care who he hurts…

  She could feel the magician on the other side of the table, his heart beating even faster than her own, his defenses slipping as he waited for the spell to begin.

  Slowly, still trying to smile, as though she really were an excited child opening a present, Rose folded back the golden paper, revealing a jeweled box.

  “How pretty,” she said politely, glancing across the table.

  “Open it, Your Highness,” Lord Venn said, his smile showing more and more of his teeth.

  What is he trying to do? Rose wondered, as she lifted the heavy golden lid. If he knows I’m not the princess, because he already has her, what does he want from me? Does he want to steal me too? What on earth for? She imagined for a lunatic second a collection of princesses in glass cases. The golden hinges of the box wheezed open slowly, revealing a little golden bird, each feather exquisitely inlaid with colored enameling and gemstones.

  “Ohh…” Rose itched to touch it, to stroke the enamel feathers, but she knew she mustn’t. What if these magicians had coated it in poison, to kill her out of revenge for spoiling their plan? Although, why? She still couldn’t see why, if they knew she wasn’t the real princess, they didn’t just tell everyone. Perhaps they thought no one would believe such a silly story.

  “Do you like it, Princess?” Lord Venn purred, and Rose nodded, finding it easier to smile at him this time—the bird was so beautiful, even if it was a trick.

  “Watch…” The envoy’s little black eyes sparkled with a hard light, like diamonds—like the bird’s eyes, though they were wonderful fiery rubies, glittering in golden eyelids.

  There was a strange clicking noise from the box, and the bird, which had been lying on its side with its head tucked down on its breast, looked up at Rose. She jumped back against her chair in shock, but the little creature stood up in its box and turned its head from side to side, as though it were surveying the gathering. Then it turned back to Rose, the ruby eyes staring fixedly at her.

  Rose felt a strange crawling feeling running down her spine. The bird was beautiful but eerie. The ruby eyes glowed, and they seemed to hold her still. She couldn’t look away. The bird hopped out of the box, its diamond claws scratching at the linen tablecloth, and stalked toward her, hopping in a rather ungainly fashion, like a real bird, not designed for being on the ground. It stopped at the edge of the tablecloth and turned its head from side to side, staring at her with those bright ruby eyes.

  “How very beautiful,” Queen Adelaide commented, smiling as her older daughters admired the creature with well-trained compliments. “Does it sing, Lord Venn?”

  The envoy bowed slightly, glancing toward the queen for only a second. “I am afraid not, Your Majesty. It does—other things…”

  The cut-glass tones of Jane’s mother had roused Rose from the strange trance the bird had led her into. She blinked frantically and looked for Gus.

  The tiny cat—who was even smaller than the bird—was still perched among the roses, his eyes fixed on it hungrily.

  Remember you’re shrunk! Rose told him quickly, as it looked as though he were about to pounce.

  On the edge of the table, the bird shook out its wi
ngs in a flurry of golden feathers, and the court clapped in admiration. The sudden noise seemed to shock the glittering creature, and it fluttered and hopped in panic, its head twitching, before it returned to gazing at Rose. It was amazingly real, she thought. It reminded her of the sparrows that occasionally perched around the little window in her attic bedroom, though they were poor dusty cousins of this magnificent creature. And it was bigger, of course, the size of a fat blackbird.

  It stretched out its wings again, clearly about to fly, and the assembled guests held their breath, not wanting to scare the creature once more.

  Rose bit her lip worriedly. She had resolved not to touch the bird—it was clearly magical, and it must be enchanted to attack her somehow. But if it could fly…As she thought it, the golden bird sprang into the air with the ease of one of those grubby little sparrows and landed on her pink silk sleeve.

  Everyone gasped, and the bird gave a strange mechanical chirrup and took off again—but this time, the diamond claws were fixed fast in Rose’s dress; she could feel them starting to dig into her skin too, making her scream as they cut through her flesh. Jane’s older sisters cried out in sympathy, and King Albert shoved his chair back angrily, pushing it over.

  “Stop it! It’s hurting her!” The queen stood up. “It’s going wrong. Make it stop!”

  Rose pulled frantically away, but the tiny creature was incredibly strong, and it was starting to pull her out of her chair. Several of the guards, the princesses, and even Lady Alice tried to wave the bird away, but it pecked them viciously with its enameled yellow beak, leaving bleeding gouges across their hands.

  Across the table, Lord Venn showed his teeth in a shining grin, clapping his hands together lightly as he watched his creation work. Several of his entourage had moved in closer and surrounded him, revealing what they really were—his bodyguards.

  “Do you not like the gift, Your Highness?” he asked, his voice humming sweetly.

  “Stop this! Tell whoever is controlling this evil creature to stop it! Or I will have it shot!” the king shouted, his hands clenching as he watched Rose fighting the creature.

  “I wouldn’t,” Lord Venn told him silkily. “You would miss. And who knows what the bullet would hit? The princess, perhaps? And that might be unfortunate for you, Your Majesty. A glamour only works while the creator is alive, you know. Perhaps Aloysius Fountain failed to tell you that. No matter. Whoever this child is, we will see her real face when she dies. Which should be soon—when my little bird carries her up to the ceiling and drops her down again.”

  Everyone involuntarily glanced up toward the vaulted ceiling, with its glowing chandeliers. Rose was standing now, pulled onto tiptoes by the bird’s straining wings. She batted at it frantically, and it pecked her.

  “What is he talking about?” the queen demanded, throwing her arms around Rose’s waist to hold her down. “Help me!”

  “Look! Look at her!” Lord Venn gloated. “She’s changing already! Oh, Your Majesty, I’m disappointed in your choice of replacement—so little constancy. A few scratches and she loses the strength to keep the spell going!”

  Rose felt the queen let go and realized why as she tried to hit the bird again. She had her own hands now, brownish and short-nailed, not the princess’s pretty long fingers. She felt ashamed for a moment but decided that being carried away by a magic bird was a reasonable excuse.

  Freddie and Bella suddenly appeared beside her, and she realized that they had crawled along under the tablecloth to get through the milling crowd.

  “Help me!” she wailed to Freddie, and he hit the bird with a menu card, which did nothing at all.

  “Use a spell,” she whispered. The pain and the blood seeping from the deep wounds in her arm were making her feel faint, light-headed. Light—no, it would be easier for the bird to carry her up. She mustn’t be light…Freddie nodded apologetically and reached out a shaking hand toward the bird, muttering under his breath and then slinging all his power against the glittering little creature in a ball of silvery light. Then he collapsed shuddering onto his knees, staring hopefully after his magic.

  It didn’t even reach the bird. The ice-eyed man clicked his fingers, and Freddie’s silver magic froze and shattered into splinters, sending all Rose’s would-be rescuers reeling back again.

  “Rose, fight back!” Bella called urgently as she fought her way to Rose, brushing away the icy shards. Rose felt the little girl holding her other hand, sending all her childish power, and the fainting passed away at last. She opened her eyes wide and saw Gus, bigger than ever, erupting out of the roses with a massive leap.

  The Talish envoy gasped in fury. Gus seized the bird, his own claws growing to the size of a tiger’s and puncturing its metal skin.

  It screamed, and Rose screamed with it as Gus dragged the jeweled claws out of her arm.

  Together they fell onto the table, the huge white cat lunging to bite around the bird’s pulsing neck and shake it violently. Rose sank back into her chair, cradling her arm, her breath shallow and fast. Freddie staggered over and put his arm around her shoulders, holding her as they watched Gus shake the bird until it hung limply in his teeth. Then he dragged it across the table to Rose.

  Lord Venn watched, his face contorted with anger, and now everyone in the room was whispering and pointing at Rose, so that Freddie and Bella drew in closer to her, guarding her against the whispers. Impostor…Traitor…A plot…

  Queen Adelaide was sobbing and hitting the king’s arms, demanding in a thin, frightened voice that he tell her where Jane was.

  “I’m sorry, Rose,” Gus told her, as he laid the mangled metal thing in her lap. “I was trying to call Aloysius. I couldn’t find him—who knows where he’s gone. I waited too long.” He nosed her bleeding arm sorrowfully, and Rose felt the wounds close up a little.

  With her good hand, she touched the bedraggled golden feathers and felt the faint heartbeat still inside the thing. “It’s alive,” she muttered, looking up at Gus, his whiskers drooping down over the creature. “Except, it’s not. The spell is gone. Gus, there’s a real bird in here!”

  Suddenly angry, she tore into the golden skin, using Freddie and Bella to help her, and among the scraps of metal foil and the bloodied jewels, there was a sparrow—a little town sparrow, its black claws curled up, and its liquid eyes half closed. It shivered as its protective skin came off, and its eyes opened. Still surrounded by remnants of magic, it gazed at Rose. Take me out of here! Don’t let me die in here, it pleaded, and she reached in to cradle it, so feather light she could hardly feel it in her hand.

  Thank you…And the bird shivered and died, suddenly a ball of dusty feathers and no more.

  Rose stood up, shaking off Freddie and Bella, forgetting the pain in her arm, clutching the dead bird against her chest. “You did this!” she hissed at the Talish envoy. “You made it! You shut a real bird in a metal prison to make a jewel to kill a princess.”

  “Except you are not a princess,” Lord Venn pointed out coldly. “You are—some little witch that Aloysius Fountain has bribed into his schemes. And now your whole court knows that dear Princess Jane is lost.”

  A gasp ran round the room, and he turned triumphantly to look out at the guests. “Oh, yes, ladies and gentlemen. They have no idea where she is.” He smirked.

  “Nonsense. Arrest this man!” the king stepped forward, one arm still around his wife, looking steadily around at his court as he lied to them. “Please, do not listen to these ravings. I admit, that as you can see, Princess Jane is not here. She is quite safe, hidden away from a kidnapping plot—a cruel attempt to bring our beloved country to its knees with grief. This brave child stood in Jane’s place to protect her.” He clapped his hands loudly, one man clapping in a sea of whispers. Freddie clapped too, very fast and nervously, and slowly, gradually, others joined in. But it was polite applause, forced by the king, and there was no real sen
se of celebration. No one knew what to believe.

  “He’s lying.” Lord Venn laughed, staring at the confused courtiers. “The girl was under a glamour, a nasty, deceitful trick.”

  As the court muttered amongst themselves, Rose climbed onto the table, a ragged figure in the ruins of a pink silk dress, covered in bloodstains and clutching a dead bird. She towered over Lord Venn, and Bella scrambled up behind her. Gus leaped gracefully over to stand by her side, and Freddie cast an apologetic glance at the king and followed.

  Obviously, the king was still trying to hide Jane’s disappearance, so Rose didn’t scream her accusations out loud, as she so wanted to. She shouted into the envoy’s mind instead, making him flinch away from the unavoidable words.

  You stole her! You stole her once and you lost her, and you stole her again. Give her back! Give me her back!

  “Stupid girl!” he spat, stumbling away with his hands over his ears. “We never took her.”

  The ice-eyed man stepped forward as though to hush him, as though Rose’s fury was making Lord Venn forget his part, as though he was telling truths no one was meant to hear.

  “Be silent, fool!” he snarled.

  Where is she? Rose screamed silently, leeching all Freddie and Bella’s magic from them and coiling it with her own to hurl at Lord Venn. He was almost at breaking point; she was sure she only needed to press a little harder.

  The ice-eyed man shot her a malevolent glare and seized Lord Venn’s arm, but the fat little man struggled violently.

  “It’s him in charge, not Venn, look,” Freddie muttered.

  “He made the snow globes,” Rose gasped out. She could hardly speak it was taking so much energy to pour the magic into Lord Venn’s skin. “He’s the one with the winter magic. He’s so cold, Freddie, he’s burning me!”