“Flying jewels,” he said when he saw them. “But wait. How do I know this?” He seemed to be concentrating hard, trying to gather the information from somewhere. Finally, he shook his head. “There is much I can’t remember. Still, I know that’s the name some use when speaking of you. And I must say, it fits. You truly are lovely, like jewels.”
He reached over and fingered the bracelet on his wrist. “I long to have my memory back. They tell me my wife’s name is Nuri. They say she disappeared years ago, after giving birth to our daughter. One day soon, they wish to return to the castle, for they suspect foul play. But what if we find my wife and daughter? How do I explain my inability to remember my marriage? It would be terrible to hurt a woman who has been through so much.”
Of course, the birds couldn’t answer him. They could only listen, as good hummingbirds do. The man stood there, watching the birds for a moment, before he turned and continued on with his walk.
Peace and Pax were pleased to hear of the minstrels’ desire to return to the castle. As far as they knew, the girl and her mother were still trapped in the tower, and they wanted nothing more than to give the two their freedom. The small birds would return to the castle with the minstrels. And along the way, they would ask friends to join them, in case they were needed in the coming days and weeks.
You see, the birds knew that the queen might have a powerful husband. She might also have hundreds of soldiers at her disposal. She might even have magical spells.
But the queen did not have everything.
For she did not have flying friends in every field.
And she most certainly did not have love.
21
When Maggie walked into Violet’s bedchamber, carrying various garments, Violet squealed and ran to her. “Oh, Maggie,” she said, reaching out and rubbing the maidservant’s arm. “It is so good to see you.”
Maggie set the clothing down on the bed and turned to give the girl a hug. “Aye. And I’m glad to see you, too. How was your first night in the castle? Did you sleep well?”
Violet turned to the glowing fire that burned across from where she stood, its flames flickering this way and that. At long last, the ache she’d felt deep in her bones from being cold for so long was no longer there. Between the fire and the comfortable bed, she should have slept soundly, and yet she hadn’t. All night, she’d dreamt of her mother, and her dreams hadn’t been happy ones. They were nightmares that made her sit up, trying to catch her breath, for no matter how far she ran or how hard she looked, she couldn’t find her mother in the maze of the dark and frightening castle her mind had conjured while she slept.
“It was fine, I suppose,” Violet replied, not wanting to worry Maggie.
“You can tell me the truth, love,” Maggie said. “I know you miss her.”
Violet gave her a small smile. “How do you know? Can you see it on my face?”
“It is only natural for you to be sad about being apart from your mother.”
“Aye,” Violet said.
“Now, I’ve come to give you a bath and get you dressed, so you may eat in the great hall today.”
“A servant prepared my bath last night. The queen must think I’m filthy, if she’s having me bathe yet again.”
Maggie chuckled as she helped the girl out of her nightdress. “I believe she wants to make sure you look your best for your introduction today. We’ll wash your hair, and then I shall braid it for you. After today, you won’t need to bathe again for a while.”
“Should I be nervous?” Violet asked. “About the introduction?”
“No,” Maggie said. “Not at all. Smile and simply be yourself.”
Once undressed, Violet stepped into the silver tub with rose petals floating atop the warm water. She felt the heat from the fire on her bare back, and it was so different from the times she’d bathed in the tower, shivering most of the way through. Her mother had always tried to make it bearable, however, by telling stories or playing games.
At the thought of her mother, Violet felt tears rising up, but she told herself not to cry. If her mother could see her now, she would be pleased that her daughter was surrounded by such pretty things and so well cared for.
“Will Mama be all right?” Violet asked, blinking quickly so the tears wouldn’t have a chance to escape.
Maggie took a sponge and began to scrub Violet’s back. “Your mother will be fine. George and I took her a tambourine. We hope she will play music and use the money she earns to go in search of your papa.”
Violet nodded. She relaxed and sank a little deeper into the warm water. “They will be happy minstrels again, wandering the countryside together. Just like before.”
“Indeed,” Maggie said.
“And I will be here, living the life of a princess. Like the queen wants.” She felt a little tug on her heart as she said those words. Everything was better than she’d imagined, and yet, without her mother by her side, would she ever be truly happy? She knew she must try. As hard as it would be, she must try.
After all, her mother was free, just as she should be. Violet’s new life was surely a small price to pay for that.
“Will I become a princess right away?” Violet asked Maggie.
“I have heard talk that they will crown you princess at a royal ball they shall give in your honor.”
“What is a royal ball?”
“Hold your breath,” Maggie said. She then dunked Violet underwater to get her face and hair wet. When Violet came back up, Maggie went to work lathering her hair. “A royal ball is a dance. People come from far and wide, dressed in their finest attire, and they hold a big party in the ballroom.”
“But, Maggie, I do not know the first thing about dancing,” she said as she wiped her dripping hair out of her eyes.
“Of course you don’t, dear. And the queen is aware of that fact. I suspect the coming days and weeks will be busy ones for you. There is much she’ll want to teach you before the big event. A princess plays a very important role.”
Violet’s voice was quiet. She suddenly felt teensy-tiny. “I’m scared. What if I disappoint everyone?”
Maggie leaned back and smiled. “You won’t, love. Just do your very best—that is all they expect. You shall make a fine princess. Now, hold your breath again.”
She did as she was asked so Maggie could rinse the soap out of her hair. This time, when Violet popped up, she kept quiet as she tried to imagine a big room full of people dressed up in fancy clothes, dancing.
What would her mother think of such a thing?
Violet turned her head and caught a tiny glimmer of something shiny hidden underneath a cloth in the corner. She hadn’t noticed it the night before, for the sun had gone down and she’d bathed in candlelight.
“What is that?” Violet asked, sitting up straight, craning her neck to see.
Maggie turned to see what the child was looking at.
“Oh yes. That is a harp. Delivered a few days ago, as a matter of fact. A gift to the royal couple, though I’m not sure who sent it. They receive gifts often. The queen wasn’t sure where to put it. Perhaps you’d like to try to play it?”
“Play it? A harp is a toy, then?” Violet asked as she stood up. Maggie helped her out of the tub and dried her off before she slipped a dressing gown onto the girl.
Maggie laughed. “No, not a toy, lass. A musical instrument. You strum the strings and it makes music.”
Music. Violet had an instrument in her room that could play music! This wonderful surprise surpassed the soft bed, the lovely clothes, and the warm fire.
Violet went to pick it up, but she discovered it was quite heavy. She threw the cloth back and admired how lovely it looked.
“How do you hold it?” Violet asked.
“Take a seat on the bench by the window, and I’ll show you.”
Violet did as she was told and watched as Maggie sat next to her and placed the harp in her lap. Maggie leaned the instrument against her chest and stretched her
arms out on either side of it, strumming her fingers along one side and then the other.
Violet reached over and plucked a few strings.
“It is the music of my happy dreams,” Violet whispered. “When I am outside with the birds, in the garden, this is the music I hear.” Violet closed her eyes and imagined playing the harp outside.
“Lovely, eh?” Maggie replied.
“How do you know how to play?” Violet asked. “Did someone teach you?”
Maggie narrowed her brow and thought about the question for a moment before she finally responded. “It must sound strange, but I do not know the answer to that question. I cannot recall, exactly.” She shook her head before she continued. “No matter. ’Tis not mine to play anyway.”
Maggie then positioned the harp in Violet’s lap. “Can someone teach me how to play?” Violet asked. “Please?”
Maggie smiled at the girl. “Perhaps. I shall see what I can do.”
As Violet strummed the harp again and again, she thought of her mother, and what she might say if she knew Violet had her very own musical instrument to play.
Most likely something along the lines of, Enjoy, my dear princess. Enjoy.
22
“I am not sure I understand why you must make her princess,” the king told the queen as they discussed the matter in the privacy of the library.
The night before, the queen had told him the story she’d concocted about finding the young girl, and he had believed her. When she’d asked him what he thought of calling the girl their own and crowning her princess, he said he needed time to think about it. Now the queen was pressing him on the matter, for in a short while, they would all gather for the midday meal in the great hall. Violet needed to be introduced, and the queen wanted a decision on what they would tell everyone.
“This way, we choose an heir,” Queen Bogdana asked. “Would you rather a cousin we hardly know take the throne instead one day? The girl is quite an agreeable child, as you shall see, and her beauty is beyond measure.”
“Beauty is not a requirement of the throne,” the king said. “Surely you of all people must know that.”
The queen scowled. “No, it is not a requirement, but it is helpful. People will admire her. Respect her. Look up to her. Honestly, she will bring some much-needed joy to this castle, Your Grouchiness.” She waved her hand. “Enough of this nonsense. She will become princess, and that is that. Unless you have a legitimate reason why we shouldn’t go forward with it, you will make the announcement today.”
“And you are certain Violet is truly an orphan?”
“Of course I am sure,” the queen said, rising from her chair. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to take a quick stroll in the garden before I meet you in the great hall.”
“I hope I shall have no regrets about this,” the king said.
“What is there to regret? She is a lovely girl. You’ll see.”
And with that, the queen left, not wanting to discuss it any further. She gathered her furs and made her way to the garden, looking to speak to the gardener to finalize matters with him.
As she walked, she recalled the conversation with the king. Of course, she didn’t need to make Violet princess. It was necessary only to keep the girl long enough for her to turn eleven years of age and to demonstrate how to interact with the birds. The spell for beauty was still the most important matter to the queen.
But Bogdana had noticed something yesterday as she gathered clues about the girl: her supposed interactions with the birds, the playfulness she exhibited in the garden, and her simple yet honest artwork. The girl had a tremendous love of life, despite the miserable life that it was, like no one the queen had met before. And then to be beautiful, too? She was like a rare gem, and the queen simply had to have her. And maybe, just maybe, if love came so easily to the girl, perhaps someday she would find room in her heart to love the queen, too.
Just the simple thought made the queen happy.
A moment later, she came upon George pruning some bushes.
“There you are,” the queen said. “I’ve been looking for you.”
He bowed. “Your Majesty.”
“I will not ask about your night in the dungeon for I’m sure you would rather not relive it. I’ve come to speak to you about the secret garden.”
“What about it?”
“I want it destroyed. Move what plants you can and get rid of the rest. When the birds return, they mustn’t go there. They shall live in my garden instead.”
“Surely there’s another way,” George said. “That garden is like a home to Violet. It will crush her if it’s destroyed.”
The queen waved a dismissive hand. “The child will be fine. She has so much more to make her happy now. A silly little garden is nothing compared to all she will be given in the coming days.”
“But I fear, Your Highness, there are risks. What if the birds fly elsewhere? Away from the castle?”
“But the girl is here,” the queen said. “From what I’ve been told, I believe they will come to see her. So there will be no more discussion. My request shall be granted. By the time the girl is crowned princess, the secret garden shall be no more. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“Good. Carry on.”
George bowed again. “Yes, Your Majesty. As you wish.”
The queen smiled with pleasure at three of her favorite words before returning to the castle.
23
Bogdana stood in Violet’s bedchamber, her mouth agape.
“What is it?” Violet asked, smoothing the skirt of the emerald gown she wore. “Is something wrong? Did I choose the wrong dress for the occasion?”
The queen shook her head and blinked her eyes, as if she was trying to see straight. “No, no, nothing is wrong. Quite the contrary. Your hair braided and the lovely dress … why, you are simply stunning.”
Violet felt her shoulders relax. “Oh, good. I was worried for a moment.”
“Let’s make our way to the great hall, shall we?”
“Yes,” Violet said, and she followed the queen through the maze of hallways and stairways until they came to the large room where people sat and ate. They approached the high table, and in the center, next to the king, were two empty chairs. As the king rose to greet them, so did everyone else.
“Violet,” he said, extending his hand.
“King Louis,” she replied, taking the king’s hand and kissing it as she curtsied, the way her mother had taught her. At the time, Violet had laughed because it seemed so unlikely she would ever need to know how to greet the king.
Once Violet sat down, servants brought dish after dish of food. So much glorious food! She started to ask the queen what the various dishes were, but as the queen stuffed herself with a large chunk of meat, the juices seeping into a flat piece of bread held beneath it, she decided against it. Violet simply did as the queen did and began eating.
Violet had never tasted such good food, and she began to wonder if she might actually come to enjoy being a princess. In fact, she probably wouldn’t have to choke down another boiled egg as long as she lived. While Violet ate, she sensed people’s eyes on her. It made her nervous. Would they be happy when they heard the plans to crown her princess? Or would they be angry, for surely it would mean extra work for everyone one way or another.
While Violet munched on her fourth piece of boiled potato seasoned with parsley and onion, the king stood and clapped his hands quickly three times.
“You may have noticed,” he began, “we have a new face at our table this fine day. Because of a tragic accident, we have taken custody of this child named Violet. To officially welcome her into the family, we shall have a royal ball six weeks from now, on the spring equinox. On that day, we will crown her Princess Violet. Let the preparations begin!”
The room erupted with applause. Violet’s cheeks grew warm, for she wasn’t used to all this attention. She turned and looked at the queen, who now smiled as if the room
were filled with colorful hummingbirds. It seemed so strange that the queen could be so happy about a girl she hardly knew.
As the applause died down, the king took his seat.
“You may go now, Violet,” the queen said. “It is not proper for a child to linger at the table as we do. Return to your room and rest, for your lessons will begin tomorrow, and as you are to discover, they shall be quite rigorous.”
Violet stood and gave a small curtsy before she stepped down and away from the tables. As she walked back the way they had come, she realized she didn’t want to return to her room and rest. She’d been in that room long enough. Wasn’t there something else she could do? Somewhere else to explore?
As she turned a corner, she almost ran into a short, skinny boy about her age, wearing a dirty tunic and smelling of onions.
“Pardon me, miss,” he said. “I thought everyone was still eating.”
“Who are you?” Violet asked.
“The name’s Harry,” he said. “I work in the kitchen.”
“Oh!” Violet’s eyes lit up. “The kitchen. I’ve never seen a kitchen before. Will you show me?”
“And who are you?” Harry asked.
“I’m Violet,” she replied. “I’ve come to live here and will be crowned princess soon.”
His eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. Are you pulling my leg? Violet? Ain’t that the name of the girl in the tower?”
Violet looked around, hoping no one had heard him say that. “Yes, that’s me. But no one knows I was locked in the tower. We must keep it a secret. How did you know, anyway?”
“Maggie let your name slip one time, when she came to the kitchen to gather your food. Don’t worry. I’m the only one who heard it.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Harry, and thank you for the food, if you helped at all. Will you show me the kitchen? Please?”
Harry shrugged. “Why not? Follow me.”
They made their way through a long corridor, then down a flight of stairs, into a room with copper pots and stone ovens covering one wall. On another wall, there was a big open pit with a large fire burning to heat not only a huge black cauldron but also a large chunk of meat, which two boys turned on a long pole. In the middle of the room were rows of tables where three young men stood chopping vegetables and kneading dough. Violet thought the room smelled delicious.
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