Princess Juniper of the Hourglass

by Ammi-Joan Paquette

  Juniper’s mouth dropped open. “Truly, Papa?” She’d known her father to get feverishly attached to new plans and ideas, but this was extremely fast, even for him.

  “Your idea took me by surprise,” the king said. “But the more I thought it over, the better I liked it. A testing ground, as it were, yes? Controlled setting, not too far off from society. Put to the proof all this booklearning you’ve been packing in. Test of adulthood, if you will. Yes.” He nodded sagely, and Juniper could almost see this entering the record books as a rite of passage for future Torrean heirs.

  The door swung open, and in came a girl carrying a platter of sizzling pork belly strips. It was the same wispy girl from last night, and she took a tentative step in, blinking curiously at the state of king and table. She had the kind of face that spoke of ideas, and Juniper half wanted to invite her to pull up a chair and hear what the king had to say.

  Juniper shook herself. What a peculiar thought!

  “Ah, breakfast,” said the king distractedly. “Set it up in the morning room, would you? The delegates and other nobles will be along shortly, and this room is in no fit state.”

  “Certainly, Your Majesty,” replied the girl, managing to bow low without spilling a single pork strip.

  “Wait,” Juniper said quickly. “What is your name?”

  The girl ducked her head. “Leena, Your Highness,” she said. Then, with a last glance toward the papers on the table, she vanished through the door, the savory scent of breakfast fading in her wake.

  “Now, here we have it.” The king’s voice was triumphant as he jabbed a forefinger at the map of the Lower Continent spread open in front of him. Sidling closer, Juniper saw he was pointing toward the coast. “What do you think of this spot, eh?”

  “Oleo’s Bay,” she read.

  “A country, just as you say. Or a parcel of land, at any rate. It’s in need of development. You’ve got plenty of coastline there, a few gentle hills. Two or three towns within an hour’s ride, in case anything goes wrong. The soil is sandy—you won’t get much in the way of crops. And it wouldn’t do in the cold season. But for this summer country of yours, I can think of no place better. What do you say?”

  Juniper’s heart leaped. Her very own country!

  Then she hesitated. Was this really the best spot? She wished she might learn a little more about the location before making things official. “It sounds marvelous, Papa dear!” she exclaimed. “Only . . .”

  “Only?”

  She paused, thinking fast. A summerland kingdom, right on the beach. What could be better? But . . . did she really want her country only for the summer? What if they wanted to stay longer, or wanted to set things up to return at another time? Winter storms along the coast were fierce and destructive; it was probably why the land lay undeveloped to begin with. Further, the king’s mention of the nearby towns, instead of being reassuring, felt somehow stifling. “Only don’t you have anything a little more . . . away? I’m terribly grateful, Papa, please understand. Just, I’d hoped to start something more off on my own. And it must be a venture that will last.”

  “Something that will last . . .”

  Juniper slid into a chair and studied the map, from Torr’s stretch of coast clear up to its borders with Gaulia in the north and Monsia all along the far west.

  Her father’s voice went uncharacteristically hazy. “Well, there is the Basin, but no, that would never—”

  Juniper perked up. “The Basin? Oh, please do tell!” His finger had begun moving away but now snapped back up toward the Hourglass Mountains, which stretched like a ribbon across the neck of the Lower Continent, with Gaulia up above them and Monsia and Torr below.

  “It’s quite unthinkable,” he murmured. “A hard day’s ride or more from here, and that’s if all goes well. Right in the heart of the Hourglass. It’s not a place on any map I’m aware of. Bit of a secret hideout, if you want to know the truth.” The king leaned back in his seat. His face took on a soft, looking-back quality that made Juniper’s eyes widen. “I had a summer off myself—I was far older than you, mind, nearly out of my teens. But I persuaded my father to grant me two fortnights alone. He was a hard man, but he agreed. Off I went, with only two guards for companions, and what a grand adventure we had! It was the only time in my life I was fully free from obligations, all the pressures of court . . .” He trailed off, apparently registering Juniper’s gape-mouthed stare.

  “In any event, we happened upon a series of tunnels, and after losing ourselves for a while, we came through to a fully enclosed valley at the heart of the range. We called it the Basin, for that’s how it seems inside—up the high mountains, you are, but you’d never think it. There’s a sun in there that glows like its own bit of heaven.”

  Juniper didn’t need to hear any more. A secret kingdom at the heart of the Hourglass Mountains? “Oh, that’s it, Papa. Please!” She raised a hand, seeing the refusal already forming on his lips. “It’s neither too far, nor too dangerous, nor at all improbable. Haven’t you always said how capable I am? It wouldn’t be the same to set up a country only a league away from other townships, with my subjects running about here and there and dashing off whenever they like. This way, we’d be a real kingdom, a country off on our own. Think of that!”

  “Off on your own?” The wistful note was gone from the king’s voice, and now he was all business. “I can’t support that idea, Junie. No, I don’t like it one bit. Those are high mountains, and not two skips from the Monsian border. Thirteen may be an adult as far as society goes, but it’s hardly so in actual fact. Oleo’s Bay will do nicely.”

  “Oh, Papa!” Once again, she wondered whether she might not tell him more. But Juniper had long since learned that her father avoided talk of her mother at all costs, and her own feelings about the all-kids dance party were vague at best. She didn’t even know if it could be put into words—this odd need, this longing for something more. Her father’s story had only crystallized it further; his tantalizing glimpse of the Basin had changed things yet again.

  She opened her mouth to try once more, but a rap came at the door, and her father’s chief adviser pushed his bulk through the door frame.

  “Your Majesty,” said Rupert Lefarge. To Juniper’s surprise, he was panting, with visible sweat dotting his brow. “If I might beg your pardon for the interruption. There is a matter of greatest urgency requiring your attention. It positively cannot wait.”

  The king rose at once, delivered a distracted kiss to the top of Juniper’s head, and followed Lefarge out of the room.

  Left alone, Juniper began gathering her father’s papers into a pile. She had gotten her kingdom, and she was grateful. Oleo’s Bay would be adequate, she knew, would be fine. But, oh, it was hard to let go of the other!

  Now she had breakfast to eat, and a kingdom to plan, and a mountain dream to push fully out of her mind.

  • • •

  It turned out that setting up a new kingdom was a lot of work. To her relief, her father’s business went long and he canceled that morning’s Political Discourse session. All the free hour did, however, was reinforce the scope of the job Juniper had taken on. She’d put a great deal of thought into getting her kingdom. What happened next—what needed to happen now—was a lot less clear. Where would her subjects live? What would they eat? What would they all do every day? Not to mention, of course, that she needed to find those subjects to begin with.

  Juniper needed help, and she needed it fast. She thought of Rupert Lefarge. He kept her father running, pretty much! Well, that was what she needed: a chief adviser of her own.

  Settling on the perfect person for the job took barely a moment’s thought. Hardworking, always busy, able to do a little bit of everything that needed doing . . . she couldn’t think of anyone who read more or knew more than Erick Dufrayne.

  The moment she was released from her morning studies sess
ion, she set about tracking Erick down. Cornering him in one of the small ground-floor reading alcoves, Juniper launched into a full and complete explanation of how the day—and her new country—had unfolded.

  “So.” She wrapped up her speech with a zesty wave. “What do you say?”

  Erick tilted his head toward the fireplace stoop, as though asking permission to sit down. Juniper nodded, and the boy sank into a thinking pose. “Let me see if I understand this all right. You’re gathering a group of kids to take off someplace in the mountains, where you’re going to build your own settlement.”

  “Not the mountains—that’s the place my father told me about, but we’re not going there. Even though it’s a far better spot. We’re going to the other place, down by the coast. That’s where my kingdom will be. Oleo’s Bay.” The name was slightly stale on her tongue, like it knew it was the weaker choice but couldn’t do a thing about it.

  Erick nodded. “And you want my help to organize this kingdom.”

  “I wouldn’t call it ‘help,’ precisely,” said Juniper, falling automatically into her Comportment training. “Think of it more as filling a role. The queen cannot do everything, after all.”

  Erick raised an eyebrow, as if he was trying to take her seriously but wasn’t quite succeeding. Juniper struggled a moment, then sighed. If she was starting her own country, did she really need all those pesky Comportment rules?

  “Oh, very well,” she said. “I really do need some help. I’ve been working at this planning effort all morning, trying to figure out supplies and jobs and travel details. I had no idea that making up a kingdom would be so complicated! What on earth am I to do?”

  “You could ask your father for advice.”

  Juniper groaned. “Even if I wanted to,” she said, “he’s got something big going on. It’s been meetings and messengers and dictating urgent letters since daybreak. He didn’t even come back for breakfast.”

  “I’ve been hearing some strange things, too.”

  “Oh? What have you heard?”

  Erick’s face grew bright red, as though he’d said more than he intended. He shook his head.

  “Go on,” Juniper coaxed.

  “It’s nothing, I’m sure,” he stammered. “Only, the court seems very hectic all at once. Everyone frowning and rushing about like the world might break in two.”

  “You’re right. Lefarge looked positively frantic when he interrupted us this morning. There must be some mischief afoot. But what could it be?”

  “Need to be ready for anything, that’s what I’d say.” Erick aimed his gaze back to the ground.

  Juniper smiled. “Ready for anything . . . I like that. And I happen to feel the exact same way. Whatever’s going on here, my father will handle it. What we need to be concerned about is getting ourselves moving, and quickly. I’d hate for something to happen that changes Papa’s mind about letting us go. I’m stuck with Oleo’s Bay—well, all right. That’s better than nothing. Now we need to get our team together and head on out double-quick.”

  “Er . . . we?” Erick’s eyes were wide with sudden panic.

  “You will be my chief adviser,” she blurted out. Erick looked up. “That is to say, I’m to be the queen, obviously. But I need you to—that is . . . I’m putting together this kingdom, and I’ve got to have somebody with me I can trust. For making decisions and all that. Along with me. And I desperately want you to join me in this role. Would you?” Juniper knew she was breaking just about every Comportment rule in the book right now. To her surprise, she found she liked how that made her feel. A brand-new kingdom, she thought, with completely new rules.

  Erick shook his head. “Oh, no. I couldn’t! I’m just . . .” His shoulders slumped.

  “Erick Dufrayne,” Juniper said gently, “what are you trying to tell me?”

  “The other night, at the ball. When you showed me the peephole. What made you do it?”

  Juniper thought about this. “I’m not sure. Only . . . that place has been my secret forever, and I’ve always wanted to show it to someone. You seemed like the right person. And you’re right for this job, too. I just know it.”

  Erick still looked unconvinced. “I do a bit of everything around the palace—that’s my job, even: boy-of-all-trades. They had to invent the role for me, did you know? But there’s no one skill I’m really tops at. My father tried to train me in the guard, and I simply could not make it stick. I suppose I’m more . . . more of the inkpot and parchment type?”

  “And a very fine type that is,” said Juniper firmly. “It’s perfect, really. You know a little bit about a lot of things. You know how to fill a need. You’re quick and smart and dependable. And you know book stuff, while truly, I should be happy if I never had to lift another cover till the end of my days. Don’t you see now why I need you?”

  There was a long silence.

  “You are in, aren’t you?” She knew her voice was unbecomingly pleading for a crown princess. But at the moment, she didn’t feel especially princesslike. She felt like a girl on the edge of a cliff facing a vast, dark ocean; she felt like a girl barreling headlong into her greatest opportunity and her greatest challenge and her greatest risk. She felt, on the whole, a good deal less sure of herself than she had expected. And this was a leap she could not take on her own.

  She looked up and met Erick’s eyes. He smiled tentatively.

  “Would there be room on this journey for a few books? Or . . . more than a few, perhaps? I find them to be quite a part of my everyday routine, you see.”

  Juniper waved a hand. “Consider it done.”

  “All right, then,” said Erick, and held out his hand. “I’m in.”

  With a deep relieved breath, Juniper reached out and clasped it firmly in her own. “Good. Now let’s get started.”

  Princess Juniper’s List of Essential Personnel for Her New Country

  (Draft 1)

  Filled Positions

  Queen—Juniper Torrence

  Chief Adviser—Erick Dufrayne

  Positions Pending

  Queen’s Maid(s)

  Royal Guards (2–4?)

  Head Cook, Plus Undercook and Serving Girl(s)

  Seamstress and Personal Groomer

  Sweeper (for the mud—there will be lots!)

  Activities Director (parties!!)

  To Do:

  Ponder What Positions a New Country Actually Needs (?!)

  “I HAVE BEGUN PUTTING TOGETHER A personnel list,” said Juniper the following day, as she and Erick sat huddled in a copse of trees in the outer gardens. Back in the Music Room, her harpsichord tutor was surely wondering where she was, and it grated on her to keep him waiting. But this business could not be delayed. “All we need is to outline the necessary roles, then go about filling them. It should be quite straightforward.”

  “What have you got down so far?” Erick asked. Having accepted his role as Juniper’s adviser, he’d sunk into it with relish. He was still one of the quietest people Juniper had ever known, but he didn’t seem gobsmacked by royalty the way most palace inhabitants were. Clearly he had never spent time with her Comportment Master. She thought back to the day before, when they had shaken hands like genuine partners. There was something refreshing about Erick’s lack of pretension, she decided. And hers was a fully new country, after all.

  “We shall have no Comportment Master, that’s for certain,” Juniper said.

  Erick nodded. “I’m not sure I actually know what that man does.”

  This was so obvious from the way Erick acted that Juniper actually giggled. Her hand shot up to cover her mouth. Where was this new relaxed attitude coming from? Then she heard a distant voice calling her name, a voice better suited to harpsichord instruction but that was now searching the grounds for wayward princesses.

  She had to hurry.

  “I’ve started o
ut by listing the essential positions,” she said briskly, handing him her list. “It was harder than I expected, and I might have missed some. Along with this we’ll also want any number of villagers and courtiers. There . . . might be some overlap in here.” She glanced at his face.

  Erick looked like he had a live frog in his mouth. His lips turned up, then down, then his face got bright red. Finally, he burst out laughing. He laughed so hard that little tears sprang up in the corners of his eyes.

  “What?” Juniper demanded.

  Erick’s laughter dried up and he looked mortified. “Um,” he stammered. “Well, er, Your Highness . . .” He looked unsure how to continue.

  “Oh, do call me Juniper,” she said. “This is going to be ridiculous otherwise. At least”—she looked side to side, as though the bushes might be listening in—“at least when we’re alone. I don’t think my father would approve. So go ahead.”

  “All right, Your—Juniper.” He seemed to be trying out the name, then smiled as though he liked how it fit. “Juniper. Well. That is to say, do you really want my advice? Not only for me to say ‘that’s a fabulous idea’ so you can act on your royal wish?”

  “I said so, didn’t I?”

  “All right.” He swallowed, then plunged on in a single breath: “You’ve got some good stuff to start. But you’re thinking about your everyday life, here at the palace. If we’re going to make a country, even a little one, we’ll need to have the right sort of people. We’ll need builders and farmers and people who can, you know, do things with food. Care for animals, if we’re having some along. At least, that’s the way they do it in the stories. There’s an awful lot to think about.” He let out a little puff of air, as though suddenly overwhelmed.

  “Oh!” Juniper exclaimed, glad to not be the only one feeling that way. She flipped her page over and made a fresh mark on the other side. “You are good! Give us a list, then.”