“Like I told you, I believe her to be a witch. By that I mean someone with magical powers. She cast a spell on Maggie that day—I’m sure of it. After the queen insisted Maggie drink from a goblet, she said some strange lines about the sun and the moon and seeking the truth. A moment later, she asked Maggie to tell her about the hummingbirds.”
Violet gasped. “Did you hear Maggie’s response?”
Shadows loomed on the wall behind the boy. He leaned in slightly, and Violet noticed then that his nose was quite crooked. She stared at his nose while he told her what he’d heard. “Aye. She said, ‘The hummingbirds live in a secret garden.’ That’s all I know, for someone was coming down the hallway, and I didn’t want to get caught listening.”
“A witch with magical powers,” Violet whispered, her eyes big and round. “Could it truly be so?”
“I believe it is.”
“Wait. Did you say you heard this exchange the day before you met me in the castle?”
“Aye.”
A hand flew to Violet’s mouth. “That must be how the queen found me! Maggie told her of the secret garden, through no fault of her own, and the queen went to see it for herself. Now it all makes sense.”
“If she is a witch, and I certainly think she is, I fear for your safety, Violet. What if she wants you for some strange spell?”
“Or the birds,” Violet said, remembering how the queen had spoken about them with such longing. “She is completely infatuated with the birds.” She grabbed Harry’s arms. “When the hummingbirds return, she wants me to get them to trust her as they trust me. She is destroying the secret garden so they will live in her garden instead. What shall we do? I cannot let anything happen to the sweet birds.”
“Perhaps we should plan for your escape,” he replied. “In order to keep you and the birds safe from potential harm.”
“But if I were caught, surely she would throw me in the dungeon,” Violet said, her legs trembling at the thought.
“I wish we knew what she is up to,” Harry said.
“I’m sorry. I must go, for I am expected in the ballroom,” Violet said. “Thank you for finding me and showing me this passageway.”
“I’m pleased to have done so,” he replied. “It might come in handy for you someday, as a hiding place, perhaps. Or a way to escape, if the opportunity arises. You never know.”
Violet nodded and then Harry pushed on the wall ever so slightly, just enough to scan the hallway. “All is clear,” he said. He grabbed the candle and pointed in the opposite direction, toward the stairs. “I’m going to head out this way. You run along to your lessons. I may see if I can snoop around the queen’s bedchamber. Perhaps I can find clues about her plans.”
“Do be careful, Harry. I would hate for anything to happen to you on my account.”
He pushed the door all the way, and Violet stepped outside. “Please don’t worry about me,” he told her. “Look after yourself, for I shall be fine.”
“I hope so,” Violet whispered to herself as she rushed back to the staircase.
A little later, when she arrived in the ballroom, Lady Sarah said, “You are late. We talked about the importance of being on time, did we not?”
Violet bowed her head. “I beg your pardon. It shall not happen again.”
“Fine. Let us begin, then. Arms up, back straight, smile, please. And one and two and three…”
As Violet performed the steps Lady Sarah taught her, she tried to forget about Harry’s suspicions of the queen. But of course, it was all she could think about.
27
For two weeks, Harry looked for an opportunity to sneak into the queen’s bedchamber to search for clues as to whether his fears about her were true, and if she had anything sinister planned for Violet or the hummingbirds. But for some reason, Cook seemed to be keeping an extra-close eye on him.
“Sweet Josephine, what’s wrong with you lately, boy?” he’d asked Harry one day as he chopped onions. “You’re slower than a mule after plowin’ day. Got something on your mind?”
“No, sir,” Harry had replied.
“Then for pity’s sake, stop daydreaming and chop faster!”
Harry thought he saw doubt in the cook’s eyes. Had he seen Harry sneaking off to show Violet the passageway? He’d tried to be very careful, but he had an uneasy feeling about it. As difficult as it was, with big questions looming, Harry didn’t wander far.
Finally, Harry decided he could wait no more. He knew that with the royal ball right around the corner, Violet must be filled with worry. He simply had to find out what, if anything, the queen had planned.
While some of the longtime servants had been given hovels behind the castle to live in, Harry and the rest of the kitchen staff, along with the guards and stable boys, slept in the great hall. This was the castle way, after all. During the day, the large, multipurpose room was used to feed everyone. At night, they pushed the tables and chairs away and used the space for sleeping. The staff fell to the floor, exhausted after a long day’s work, covering themselves with a coat or blanket.
One night, Harry lay there long after everyone fell asleep, watching the moon through the window until it was high in the sky. Then, ever so quietly, he made his way to the queen’s chamber. The king’s bedchamber was across the hall, so fortunately, he would only have to concern himself with not disturbing the queen.
When Harry reached his destination, he could hear her snores from the other side of the wall. This was a good sign, he thought. Slowly and carefully, he opened the door. When it made a slight creak, he stopped, held his breath, and waited. But the queen didn’t move.
Once he was inside, the glow from the fire provided him with enough light to be able to see around the chamber, just as he had expected. But as he looked around, he realized perhaps this hadn’t been such a wise idea after all. He didn’t even know what he might be searching for. If the queen had plans for the young girl or the birds, what might tell him so? Notes to herself? Strange objects set aside, ready to be made into a spell? He saw none of this in the room.
And then his eyes landed on a large book opened on a table near the hearth. As he tiptoed toward it, the queen let out a loud snort and rolled over. Harry crouched, afraid she might open her eyes briefly as she stirred. There, close to the ground and with a racing heart, he waited until her snores were slow and rhythmic once again.
On his hands and knees, he crawled across the floor, quiet as a cat. When he reached the table, he stood and took in the book, which appeared to be quite old. It was open to a page that said “The Spell for Beauty.”
While most boys working in the castle didn’t know how to read, Harry did because of the kindness of the pantler, Elmer. Harry had begged Elmer to teach him until he gave in. Harry was an orphan who had been fortunate enough to get a job working at the castle instead of begging on the streets or, worse, being forced to labor in a workhouse, where conditions, rumor had it, were dismal.
Now, looking at the book, Harry was thankful he hadn’t given up on his quest for learning.
The spell for beauty is a powerful one, Harry read to himself. It requires two special and rare ingredients that come from creatures of great beauty.
The first is a long hair the color of darkness plucked from the head of a girl with lavender eyes who has lived at least eleven years but no more than twelve. The second is a single feather from a living hummingbird, the smallest and most beautiful of all birds.
Harry had found his answer, and he was filled with relief that no harm would have to come to Violet or the birds. However, he knew he must relay the information to his friend as soon as possible.
Very quickly, he scanned the page to make sure there was nothing else of importance, but found the rest of the ingredients to be quite common and the incantation to be long and tedious.
As Harry turned to leave, the queen moaned and stirred once again. This time, Harry dropped to the ground and lay as flat as he could on the floor underneath the table.
>
He watched as the queen sat straight up and called out, “Is someone there?”
The boy held his breath and kept as still as a dead mouse, hoping the shadows in the room were such that she wouldn’t spot him.
A minute felt like an hour, but eventually the queen settled back into her bed. Harry waited until her snores started up again, and then he snuck out of her room and into the safety of the hallway.
28
Most of the market-goers and merchants were kind to Nuri. Word spread of her desire to find her husband, and so, when she played twice a week at the marketplace, they paid her well and offered up food and drink to assist her. She was grateful for their generosity and believed that by spring she would have enough to go in search of him.
Every market day, she checked with Richard to see if he had received a message from the castle. And every time, he shook his head and said, “I’m truly sorry, Nuri. But don’t give up hope.”
Hope. She clung to it at night, along with her favorite of the wooden figurines, the one of the girl with a bird in her hand. And during the day, when she wasn’t performing, she went house to house seeking odd jobs and met mothers and daughters who caused her to cling to it harder still.
One morning, Nuri entered the market square walking as if she carried a bag of bricks on her back. For hope, at times, is fleeting, like a tiny hummingbird—there one moment, gone the next. That morning, she wondered how she could possibly live another day without knowing that her daughter was all right. What if the queen hadn’t kept her promises? What if she’d put the poor girl to work rather than treating her as she deserved to be treated, like a true princess?
Numerous scenarios, none of them good, filled Nuri’s head, and she didn’t know how she could muster the enthusiasm to perform in the square another day. She reached her usual spot, picked up her tambourine, and closed her eyes for a moment. The memory was so clear, it was as if it had happened yesterday.
What shall you draw this time?
A picture of you, Papa, and me. Smiling because we are so thankful to be free.
Nuri knew, no matter how sad she might be, it was up to her to bring her family together. With a new resolve, she was about to begin to play when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to find Richard standing there with a large grin on his face.
“I have news,” he told her, “of your dear daughter.”
“Oh, thank heavens,” Nuri exclaimed. “What have you heard?”
He looked around at the people who had begun to gather, and motioned for her to follow him back to his vegetable stand.
“Richard, I cannot wait a second longer,” Nuri said when they reached his spot. “Please, tell me.”
He leaned in and whispered, his brown eyes shiny like rocks in a river, “She is getting along splendidly. She adores her large bed in her private bedchamber, where she sleeps warm and comfortably. She’s eating well, and Maggie says you’d be amazed how healthy the young girl looks.”
Nuri smiled as she gripped Richard’s sleeve. “Who sent the message? Did Maggie come herself, and I somehow missed her?”
“It wasn’t Maggie. A boy named Harry came along with the cook to buy goods at the market, and Maggie asked him to bring the message. She felt he could be trusted not to breathe a word of it to the queen.”
“Oh, bless you, Harry,” Nuri whispered, looking up at the sky before returning her eyes to the man. “Did he say anything else?”
“Aye!” he said, his eyes wide. “I have yet to tell you the best part. She is learning many social graces in preparation for the royal ball they are holding in her honor on the eve of the spring equinox. It is then Violet will be crowned princess.”
Nuri’s hand flew to her mouth as her other hand squeezed Richard’s arm to steady herself. “A royal ball? For Violet?”
“Maggie said she is doing remarkably well with her lessons. She is a wonderful student, and if you were there, you would be very proud of her.”
Nuri shook her head in disbelief. “Oh my word. I am proud of her.”
“’Tis a shame you can’t be there to see your daughter at the ball.”
“I know,” Nuri said softly, her face drooping slightly. “I suppose I will just have to imagine it all.” She looked Richard in the eye. “Thank you. A million times, thank you.”
Nuri turned to leave, but Richard said, “Wait. There is one more thing Harry wanted you to know. ’Tis not a message from Maggie, but from the boy himself.”
Richard motioned for her to come closer, and he whispered in her ear, “There is a secret passageway inside the castle that leads to the outside. Harry made sure to show your daughter, in the event she decides she wants to try to escape the evil queen’s clutches.”
This latest piece of news made Nuri pause. Could Violet really attempt an escape? Given her new circumstances, would she even want to?
“Are you all right?” Richard asked. “Did I do more harm than good in sharing that with you?”
Nuri thought of the girl she’d known in the tower. The girl who wasn’t afraid to sneak down to the garden every day to see her beloved birds. The girl who spoke of freedom and longed to meet her papa. And the girl who claimed that if she could survive living in a tower for ten years, she could do anything. If an opportunity arose for Violet to escape, of course she would take it. And she needed to know where to go if she did.
“I am glad you told me,” Nuri assured her new friend.
“Shall I try to get a message to your daughter the next time I see the kitchen boy?” Richard asked.
“Tell him to let Violet know I am here. That if she ever wants to try to find me, I’m here in the market square on Wednesdays and Saturdays.” Nuri paused. “And please tell her how much I love her.”
Richard smiled. “Consider it done.”
29
The bed filled with feathers was indeed a thing of delight to lie on. And yet, Violet’s nights weren’t exactly restful. She continued to dream of her mother and would often wake up reaching for her.
One morning, she woke early, and try as she might, she could not fall back to sleep. It was so early Maggie had not yet come to assist her with dressing. Violet crawled out of the big bed and climbed onto the window seat.
She strummed the harp for a while, finding comfort in its music. The minstrel had called her a natural. He’d told her it would please the king and queen greatly if Violet were able to play a song the night of the ball. So she practiced a particular piece over and over again.
Soon she grew tired of playing and turned to look out the window at the garden. She longed to see her flying friends.
When the door opened a few minutes later, she thought it would be Maggie. She turned to say good morning and was surprised to find Harry standing there instead.
“I could hear your harp from down the hall,” Harry said, his face red as he looked at the floor, “so I knew you were awake.”
“Please, turn around,” Violet said. “I am in my nightclothes and not properly dressed.”
Harry did as she asked. “My sincere apologies. Please know I wouldn’t have come if it weren’t important. I have news to tell you. And it’s difficult to find you alone these days.”
“What is it, Harry? What do you wish to tell me?”
He quickly told her of the book he’d found in the queen’s chamber and the ingredients the beauty spell required.
Violet listened carefully, and as she did, anger bubbled up inside her and she could feel her cheeks getting warm. All the misery, all the years spent without her papa, all the heartache both she and her mother had endured, and for what?
Because the queen wanted one thing and one thing only—to be beautiful.
“Tell me what the spell said,” Violet said. “Exactly. Word for word, if you are able.”
She listened intently as Harry told her the words he’d apparently taken to memory.
“The spell of beauty is a powerful one. It requires two special and rare ingredients that
come from creatures of great beauty. The first is a long hair the color of darkness plucked from the head of a girl with lavender eyes who has lived at least eleven years but no more than twelve. The second is a single feather from a living hummingbird, the smallest and most beautiful of all birds.”
Of course, Violet had always wondered why the queen had done it. Why she’d imprisoned the two of them. She and her mother had talked about it over the years. Nothing had made much sense, except perhaps that it had been a harsh punishment for trespassing.
But now Violet knew the awful, ugly truth.
She didn’t speak for quite a long while. “Are you all right?” Harry asked. “At least you’re not in danger, eh?”
“That is true,” Violet said. “Still, to have been trapped for so long all because of a wish as frivolous as beauty? Makes my blood boil.”
“Before I return to the kitchen, I have one more thing to tell you,” Harry said. “It is about your mother. She sends her love and wants you to know she is in the market square on Wednesdays and Saturdays, performing.”
This was all Violet needed to hear. She knew what she must do now. “Harry?”
“Aye?” he replied, his back still to her.
“Am I correct in assuming the day of the ball will be quite busy?” Violet asked.
“Busy indeed,” Harry replied.
“Then I shall need your help,” Violet whispered, “for it seems to me the perfect day to attempt an escape.” With a sly smile, she added, “Some assistance with a special surprise for the queen between now and then would be appreciated as well.”
30
The ball was only a few days away, and the queen could hardly contain her excitement. The preparations were coming along splendidly, and Violet was doing well with her lessons. Soon a princess would be crowned, the birds would return to her garden, and Bogdana’s wishes would come true.
With all the joyful anticipation, she practically floated through the castle as she made her way to the great hall for the midday meal. But when she arrived at her table, she let out a scream and almost fainted from the ghastly sight that awaited her there.
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