Marko didn’t tell a soul where he was going. He snuck out of camp before anyone was awake. When he arrived at the castle, only one guard was at the gate. Even better, the guard, who had perhaps been on duty through the night, was asleep. Quiet as a rabbit, Marko tiptoed by the guard, and then, once safely past, he ran, as fast as he could, toward the far side of the castle, hoping to find a servant’s entrance he could use to get inside. He thought he might try to find a maid or someone else to talk to who had been in the castle the day his daughter was born.
As he made his way through the expansive garden, he stopped when he saw three hummingbirds hovering above a large honeysuckle bush with pink blossoms. They shimmered in the early-morning sunlight. Marko held his breath, not wanting to frighten them, completely captivated by them.
“Do you know where my wife and daughter are?” he whispered. “They have been gone for so long. I’m here to find them.”
They quickly fluttered away, and then, a moment later, a voice boomed from behind him.
“Were those my flying jewels?”
He turned to find a hideous woman standing in front of him.
“Is that what you call them?”
“That’s the first time I’ve seen them,” she said. “I wasn’t sure they still lived.” She looked at the man. “What business do you have in my garden?”
“Your garden, ma’am?” he asked.
“Yes. I am the queen of this castle.”
Marko bowed, his heart beating rapidly. “I apologize, Your Majesty. I didn’t realize it was you.”
“So tell me: Who are you, and why are you here?”
He stood up, tall and proud. “I am here seeking answers about my wife and daughter. Nuri gave birth in your castle nine years ago, and I have not seen her since. We have inquired at every village known to us, and no one has seen her. Would you be so kind as to tell me if you know anything about their whereabouts?”
The queen’s eyes shot a dagger toward the man. “Indeed. I know exactly where they are. Your wife and daughter are locked in the tower at the east end of the castle. And they will remain there until I say otherwise.”
Marko dropped to his knees, took the queen’s hand, and kissed it. “Please, I beg you, show mercy and release them. They have done nothing to deserve such a harsh punishment. I will give you everything I have. Everything I own. ’Tis not much, but it is yours.”
As he stood, Marko released a leather pouch from his belt and handed it to the queen. She opened it, turned it over, and dumped the coins onto the ground. Then she rushed about, collecting items from the garden and throwing them into the pouch—the web of a spider, a handful of clover, bark from a sycamore tree, and dandelion seeds. When finished, she plucked an eyelash from her left eye and threw that in as well.
“What are you doing?” Marko asked.
She raised her hand and sprinkled the ingredients she had gathered onto the man’s shoulder, while chanting:
Colors bright, clear your sight.
You shall walk away with might,
never looking back this way—
your memory is erased today.
Only the feather of a hummingbird
will free your mind, grant your wish,
and let the love of your heart be heard.
Marko felt dizzy. He closed his eyes for a moment, hoping to steady himself. When he opened them, he felt … different. He looked at his surroundings, and nothing was familiar. Furthermore, he was completely alone.
“Where am I?” he whispered.
On the ground, by his feet, coins were scattered, as if someone had dropped them. He gathered them up, wishing he had a pouch to make carrying them easier.
His stomach growled.
I must find the nearest market, he thought.
And with that, he turned and made his way down to the road.
A year and a half later, he was still wandering alone, searching for something. And, oh, how he wished he knew what it was he was looking for.
7
The two birds that had stayed behind while the others flew away did not want to leave their friend. But they knew they had to go if they wanted to try to save her life. The girl who came from the tower, who spoke to them with such kindness and love, needed to finally be set free.
So Peace and Pax flew.
They flew away from the bitter-cold winds and the garden they loved, toward the warmth of the sun.
They flew farther than they’d ever flown before, to a place where the air felt clean and fresh, where flowers grew alongside the road, making it easy to find nourishment as they traveled.
The little birds watched as people passed by, for they knew only one person could truly help the girl—the man she’d spoken of the day Peace and Pax had landed on her pretty bracelet. The man they’d seen one day in the castle’s garden, before the queen had approached and frightened them away.
They remembered the girl’s words. It was her greatest wish that she and her father be together. Now the two tiny birds intended to do whatever it might take to make her wish come true.
8
As the afternoon sun shone through the one and only window in the tower, providing much-needed warmth, Violet sat at the table with the art book, a piece of parchment, and the pen and ink. Her mother sat beside her, sewing scraps of fabric together to make a dress for Violet. Maggie secretly saved scraps for Nuri, who very much enjoyed making clothes for her daughter.
“I am drawing a field full of flowers,” Violet told her mother, “underneath a clear blue sky. It is sunny and pleasant, and I’m calling it the perfect place for hummingbirds.”
“Ah,” Violet’s mother said as she sewed another stitch. “Very nice.”
“It keeps them safe and warm all through the winter, until it is time to return here to me. Because my secret garden is the other perfect place for them.” She looked at her mother. “I wonder, Mama, where is your perfect place?”
She reached out and touched her daughter’s cheek. “Why, that’s an easy question. Wherever you are.”
“Even here, in this miserable tower?”
“It’s not a miserable tower now, Violet,” she said. “It’s a studio, where a famous artist studies from a lovely book and creates artwork that will soon be adored the world over.”
Violet sat up straighter. “I am famous?” she asked.
“Certainly,” her mother replied. “If only we had some glue, we might hang all your lovely artwork on the walls for display. But no matter. People are still gathering outside, hoping to get a glimpse of your latest masterpiece.”
“I wish those imaginary people were my sweet, lovely birds,” Violet said. “Then I would be overjoyed.”
Her mother laughed. “Always thinking of the birds, eh?”
Violet looked at her mother. “Are you sad you’ve never seen them?”
“I suppose now and then I’m disappointed I can’t go to the garden with you. But you are always so thoughtful, bringing me dahlias and lilies and other pretty flowers.”
“I’m sorry I can’t bring the birds to you,” Violet said. “But I draw you pictures of them.”
“Indeed you do.”
“Do you think Papa would enjoy my artwork?”
“Oh, yes, I know he would. He would enjoy everything about you, love.”
Violet looked at her mother then, afraid, as always, to ask the question she’d thought about for so long. But she couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Why hasn’t he stormed the castle and come for us by now?”
Nuri took a deep breath and set her sewing on the table. “Sadly, that is a question I don’t have an answer for. Perhaps he has tried. Or maybe he has been waiting, patiently, for the right opportunity. Whatever it is, we mustn’t doubt him.”
“I hope something hasn’t happened to him,” Violet said. She quickly picked up her pen and began drawing again.
“I’m sure he is fine,” her mother said. “We mustn’t worry, for it does us no good.”
“Look what I’ve done,” Violet said, pushing the paper toward her mother. “I’ve drawn him here, in the field with the birds. He will be safe there, too. And soon my little friends will lead him to us, and we will finally be a happy family.”
“I like the way you think,” Nuri replied as she returned to her sewing.
“One day, when we leave here, will I become a minstrel, too?” Violet asked.
“Yes, of course, for you are one of us.”
“But I don’t know how to play an instrument.”
“Your papa and grandpapa will teach you.”
“Sometimes I try to imagine what it must be like,” Violet said. “To travel and see new places every day. To meet people. To be … free.” She looked at her mother. “You don’t speak about it much. About missing everything you had before coming here. Perhaps because you don’t want me to see you sad. But you do miss it, don’t you?”
Her mother stared at the picture on the table. “I cannot lie, Violet. I do miss it. The world is a magical place, and there is so much to see. And freedom, well, it is a glorious thing I took for granted. And when we leave here someday, trust me, I will appreciate every free minute we have.”
“Me too,” Violet said. “May I take another piece of parchment? I’d like to draw one more picture.”
“Of course. What shall you draw this time?”
“A picture of you, Papa, and me,” she said, getting up from her chair, “smiling because we are so thankful to be free.”
9
With their duties finished for the day, George and Maggie met up, as they did every evening, to walk to their hovel, a simple hut, on the far west side of the castle grounds.
“I had a conversation with the queen earlier,” George told Maggie as they strolled beneath the shimmering moon, the faint smell of manure and hay in the air from the nearby stable.
“About what?” Maggie asked, taking George’s arm.
“She’s none too happy with the hummingbirds. Said if she doesn’t see them in the spring, there will be grave consequences for Nuri and Violet.”
“What do the two of ’em have to do with the queen seeing the birds?”
“I don’t have a clue,” George said.
“Does she think you can control where the birds spend their time?”
“Appears so,” he replied as they approached the hovel.
“You don’t think she knows about the secret garden, do you?”
He opened the door for his wife. “I believe if she knew about Violet’s garden, she would have told me. Still, I got the feeling she wonders if I might be keeping secrets from her.”
“How will you make the birds live in the queen’s garden instead of Violet’s?”
George scowled. “As I consider my options, I don’t like the one that seems most likely to be the solution.”
“And what is that?” she asked.
“I’m afraid the only way the birds will live in the main garden is if the secret garden is destroyed before their return.”
His wife let out a small gasp. “But Violet—”
“I know, Maggie. Believe me, I know.”
10
The next day was a bit warmer, and Violet played on her pretend ship most of the morning, until George came for her in the early afternoon.
“Are you ready, pirate Violet?” he asked after he let himself in with Maggie’s key.
“Yes, sir,” Violet said as she skipped over to greet him. “Is the treasure hidden well and good?”
“Indeed it is,” George replied.
“Tell me what it is I’m looking for,” she said as she pulled on his arm. “Please?”
He laughed. “Now, where is the fun in that? No, you shall have to search for your treasure and discover what it is, like a real pirate.”
“I can’t wait to see what you find,” her mother said, coming over to give her a kiss good-bye.
“Whatever it is, I shall be happy to share it with you, Captain.”
“The kindest pirate I’ve ever seen,” George remarked.
“That she is,” Nuri said. “Have a great time!”
“We will,” Violet said. “See you soon.”
Down the staircase the two went, and when they reached the loophole and the door, they went their separate ways, like always. When George came through the hedge, he held a map in one hand and a small gardening tool in the other.
“Here you go, lass,” he said, handing the items to Violet. He looked at something on the ground and his brow furrowed. “Ah, criminy.”
“What is it?” Violet asked.
“I forgot to clear away a large limb that fell onto the garden pathway. Queen will have my hide if she comes across it.”
“Go,” Violet said. “Do your work while I search for my treasure. I’ll be fine here by myself. I’ll stay quiet and won’t set foot outside this garden. Mark my word.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes, I am. Please, go so you don’t get in trouble.”
“All right. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Violet smiled. “I know you will.”
Once he’d gone, she opened the map, her heart racing. After being confined to the tower all day yesterday, it felt good to be outside, in her favorite place, having an adventure.
She licked her lips as she studied the map. George had drawn it as if the garden were an island, with ocean waves all around it, and a large ship tied near the shore. There were three small trees in the garden, and George had drawn them in their rightful places.
She counted the dashes and began walking. One, two, three … When she reached twelve, the dotted line took a hard right and went eight paces that way, and then two paces back down. She stood on the edge of the flowerbed now. An X marked a spot on the map. Was she in the right place?
The only way to find out was to start digging, so that was exactly what she did.
11
Queen Bogdana had gone to the kitchen in the wee hours of the morning, when no kitchen staff were around to see her there. She made potions only in private, for although she had cast many spells throughout the years, no one knew the queen’s true identity.
Her magic was extremely powerful—recipients couldn’t recall the spell being cast or that Bogdana had done anything remotely witchlike. From deep in their soul, the recipients would have a longing for the item that would break the spell, if it was possible, but they wouldn’t know why they had such a longing. Because of the inability to remember what had been done to them, spells were rarely broken, and as far as Bogdana was concerned, that was exactly as it should be.
Now the truth serum she’d cooked up according to the ancient spell book’s recipe was in a goblet, ready to be consumed. From her bedchamber, Bogdana sent one of her servants to fetch Maggie, ordering her to come at once.
When Maggie came into the room, her eyes filled with concern. “Your Majesty, I came as quick as I could. What may I do for you?”
The queen picked up the goblet and took it to Maggie. “Drink this. Does it taste strange to you? I’m concerned we may have a bad batch in the cellar.”
“But, Queen, I am only a maidservant. I do not know the particulars of—”
“Taste it!” the queen bellowed.
With a shaking hand, Maggie reached for the cup. Bogdana watched as she raised the potion to her lips. Once Maggie had swallowed a time or two, grimacing as she did, the queen spoke the incantation quickly.
Sun and moon, save help me now,
I seek the truth here not yet found.
For one full day, no less, no more,
facts be spoken, my powers implore.
Queen Bogdana grabbed the goblet before Maggie let it drop from her hands. The maidservant blinked a few times, swaying back and forth, as if she had trouble staying upright.
“Come and sit,” the queen said, taking Maggie’s elbow and guiding her to a chair.
“Oh, my heavens,” Maggie said a minute later, looking around before her eyes landed o
n the queen. “Whatever happened? And why am I in your bedchamber, Queen?”
“I called you here,” she replied, “so that I might ask you something. And now I have no doubts that you will speak the truth. Tell me, Maggie: What do you know of the hummingbirds? You are married to the gardener, and I believe he’s keeping secrets from me. Tell me the reasons why I don’t see the special birds in my garden more often.”
Maggie’s eyes glazed over, and the way she spoke, it was as if someone else had taken hold of her body. “The hummingbirds live in the secret garden. They have lived there since they arrived on the ship all those years ago. The girl who lives in the tower visits them daily. My husband says Violet and the birds are kindred spirits. They love each other. They are both small, yet they shine with beauty and light.”
The queen paced the floor, seething with anger, as she pondered what the maidservant had just told her.
A secret garden?
That was where her precious birds lived?
And the girl visited them daily?
“I should have you both murdered,” the queen hissed, “for betraying my orders and letting the girl out of the tower. Tell me more about this secret garden. Whose idea was it, and where is it, exactly?”
“The secret garden is behind the east tower,” Maggie replied. “It is the spot rumored to be an ancient burial place. My husband did not believe the superstitions, and so he planted grass, shrubs, flowers, and a few trees. George is the one who created the garden for the girl. It is a lovely place, and I’m sure you would enjoy it very much, Your Majesty.”
“Yes,” she muttered, pacing again. “I’m sure I would.”
“As a matter of fact, my husband is there right this moment,” Maggie said. “He is with the girl, playing a game.”
At those words, it was as if someone had put a hand out and stopped a spinning wheel from turning. The whirlwind of thoughts in Bogdana’s mind became only one: I must go see the secret garden for myself.
“You may go,” the queen told Maggie. “Return to your duties.”
The Girl in the Tower Page 3