Princess Juniper of the Hourglass

by Ammi-Joan Paquette

  “There’s a groom who works in the stable—he’s really good with animals. His family’s got a sheep farm on the banks of the Lore. We could ask him—”

  Juniper raised a royal hand. “This groom, is he all grown?”

  “He’ll be eighteen at the least.”

  Juniper nodded. “Well. I’ve come up with my first decree as queen.”

  “Your first?” Erick said with a raised eyebrow, and Juniper waved the comment away with a grin.

  “I’ve just had my thirteenth Nameday. And since I’ll be ruler, I don’t suppose it would be very nice to have all my subjects be older than me. So. We shan’t have any recruits who are older than thirteen.”

  “I’m older than thirteen.”

  “You are?”

  Erick pushed out his chest a little. “I turned fourteen two months ago.”

  Juniper groaned. “Of course you did. Well, you shall be the exception. My second decree is that you must never tell anyone your true age. You may say you are thirteen. Do you agree?”

  Erick shrugged.

  Juniper turned back to her page. “Your points are valid, however. We need recruits, the type who know how to do real things. And what does my father do when he has need of something? He writes up a proclamation.” While she’d been talking, her stylus had been scratching away, and now she leaned back and held up the page for Erick to see. “I should think this will do nicely—what do you say?”

  Seeking Young Recruits!

  Are you brave, fearless, and thirsting for adventure, fun, and the summer of a lifetime? Then look no further! Princess Juniper is gathering an expedition of like-minded explorers to establish a settlement at a location to be disclosed (to accepted candidates only).

  Applicants shall be received at one hour after noon, in the Small Gardens (Royal Palace), for the next three days. Come prepared to show your skills! Especially seeking those capable at building, farming, animal care, and soldiering.

  PS: Please ensure your parents are in agreement before applying.

  PPS: Only candidates of age 13 and younger will be accepted! (Don’t even try!)

  “I’m not sure you need that last sentence,” said Erick. “But it’s very good overall.”

  “I do need it. I have to show I mean business. Now I’ll give this to the scribe and have copies made. We shall put the notices up all over the palace, for I know there are many subjects around who are of the right age.” She thought back to that dance party she’d stumbled upon. Surely some of those energetic partygoers would like the idea of a summer escapade!

  “Shouldn’t we send some copies in to town, as well?” Erick asked.

  Juniper shook her head. “There’s no time. I wish to be gone within a week, or as near to that as we’re able. If we start recruiting outside the palace, who knows how much time that will add?”

  Erick’s eyebrows went crooked.

  “It will have to be long enough,” Juniper said firmly. “Summer has already begun, and I have a country to fill.”

  The sound of crashing footsteps nearby broke into their conversation. Juniper jumped. “I can’t let Master Hemlock find me here,” she said. “Deliver this paper to the scribe, will you?”

  Before she could give him the notice, however, a boy burst through the shrubs and tumbled into them. The boy was unfamiliar, and as soon as he saw them, he squeaked and scrabbled backward. Juniper reached out and grabbed him by the collar. The boy’s long, pin-straight hair stood up in all directions, and his brown eyes bulged with shock.

  “Paul Perigor,” said Erick, “what in the storms are you doing?”

  Paul let out a stream of unintelligible gabble. Waving Juniper back, Erick took the other boy by the arm and settled him down on the grass. He patted him on the back. “There, now. It’s just us. Um . . .” He looked up. “Her Highness and myself, we’re having a bit of a conference here. Are you recovered enough to tell us what’s going on?”

  “Oh, nothing at all, nothing at all!” Paul wailed, wringing his hands. He was wearing a groundskeeper’s uniform, Juniper noticed, though the knees were stained dark brown and green. “Only, I’m meant to be patrolling the grounds, and I’m afraid I was, er . . .” He looked at Juniper, face quivering.

  “I shan’t tell a soul, whatever it is,” Juniper said.

  “It’s my father,” Paul said, slumping in defeat. “He’s the proudest soldier alive, and he thinks there’s no other career for a true man. But me . . . I just don’t see it. I love soil, you see. I love the green, the way life starts so small and reaches out to grasp and grow and blossom, all in a day. It hits me right here, the outdoors does.” He thumped his chest, even as his face darkened. “My father won’t ever understand that. I thought groundskeeper would be a good compromise, but I just can’t keep myself from sneaking off . . .”

  For the first time, Juniper noticed that the little copse of trees looked rather . . . cultivated. She’d assumed that the round stones so perfect for sitting had come there by chance. But these flower beds were, upon inspection, far too perfect to be wild. “This is your secret garden,” she exclaimed.

  “Oh, Your Highness!” Paul’s eyes brimmed. “I shall tear it apart with my two hands, shall never touch dirt or seed again, only I beg you not to tell my father what I’ve done. He’d think it the worst of betrayals.”

  “Paul Perigor,” Juniper said solemnly, “your secret is safe with me. On one condition: that I may come here from time to time, when I need a place to sit and think or plan. And I won’t breathe a word to your father. Speaking of which,” she said grimly, “I’d better go find Master Hemlock before my father gets involved.”

  And with that, Juniper whisked away, leaving Erick to patch up the thwarted gardener. She would deliver the notice to the scribe herself . . . right after her harpsichord lesson.

  • • •

  Whoever had named the Small Gardens must have had a skewed sense of size. Juniper’s seat had been set up next to the glossy marble fountain, and from her perch, she could see in all directions: along the ornamental maze to the edge of the fruit and nut orchards, down the long parallel hedgerows that lined the path from the main gate into town, and back around the wide curving sweep to the palace’s main entrance.

  There was not a recruit in sight.

  She’d finished her luncheon in minutes in order to arrive well before the appointed hour. But here she sat, alone but for Elly at her side and Erick scuffing the dirt next to her seat. She wished she’d thought to have a chair brought out for him, too. But then Elly would be standing alone, and how odd would that be? The whole thing made her head hurt.

  “You’re certain this time is correct?” she asked, glancing up at the fountain’s peak to check the embedded timepiece. The year before, the king had had the newfangled timing devices set up all over the palace and grounds, and Juniper had found it the absolute best way to organize her life and maximize her efficiency. Now, however, the pink-tinged sand was half expired; the numbered lines along the base put it well past the first hour of the afternoon and edging fast toward the second. In another quarter of an hour at the most, she would need to ready herself for her croquet lesson, a fact which irked her greatly. How could she be expected to plan a country under these conditions?

  “The timepiece is definitely correct, Your Highness,” Elly replied. “The head gardener sets it himself every evening, and has a boy check it by the high noon sun every third day. That was yesterday, ma’am.”

  Juniper scanned the grounds again. Still nobody.

  “Other palace timepieces may not be as accurate,” Erick offered. “And there are still two days when recruits can come.”

  Juniper wouldn’t worry, she wouldn’t. She just wished there was something she could do to help the process along. She shifted her gaze and focused on her maid.

  “Elly,” she said slowly.

 
“Yes, Highness?” said the girl.

  Juniper studied her, an idea sparking. “How old are you, Elly?”

  “Sixteen, Highness.”

  She caught Erick’s eye and sighed. Then Erick cleared his throat. “Don’t you have a sister, Elly?”

  “I do,” she said. “Tippy’s a spry little thing—she’s only just turned nine, but she’s got a yen for action, that one. I would think she might like this adventure of yours, Highness, if I were to tell her of it.”

  Erick looked doubtful. “She’s not too young?”

  “Oh, I shouldn’t think so. Our ma’s been gone for years, and Tippy and I are right good at caring for ourselves. That is—it is to be a safe expedition, is it not? No dangers of any sort? Begging pardon, Your Highness,” she added hastily.

  “Tippy sounds perfect!” Juniper said. “Please do go and fetch her for me. Yes, right now would be marvelous. And don’t worry—it will be perfectly safe. After all, what harm could possibly befall us in our own settlement?”

  • • •

  Tippy was every bit as enthusiastic as promised. She was small for her age, wiry as a flax bean, with large floppy hands and feet and a mop of tousled hair. Her face was lit by a giant sunbeam smile.

  “Your Princessness!” she exclaimed, throwing herself at Juniper’s skirts and clasping her around the ankles. “I shall be honored to join your traveling party, if you will have me!”

  Elly prodded her sister with a slippered toe. “Tippy Larson! Get up on your feet, you goose. You’re to make a proper curtsey, as I showed you. None of this toppling-over nonsense.”

  Tippy leaped up and executed a perfect curtsey, with a zesty twirl at the end. “Right you are, sis. Your Highness Princess Juniper, I ain’t too much of a lady, and I haven’t been no lady’s maid before. But I watch my sister like a lizard, and I can heartily tell you that anything she can do, I can certainly do also. Probably a good deal quicker and more elegantly.” To demonstrate, she stood on her tiptoes and dashed off a pirouette that was spectacular for its utter lack of any grace or elegance whatsoever. Elly cuffed the back of her sister’s head, and Tippy resumed her normal position.

  Juniper couldn’t keep down her smile. “You’re in!” she exclaimed. “Our first official recruit, and my lady’s maid to boot. Welcome to the royal expedition!”

  “And there’s another coming now!” Tippy chirped, bobbing up and down on her toes.

  Juniper jerked her head up, and sure enough, a dark-haired girl was marching determinedly down the long gravel-strewn path toward them. A glance at the timepiece told Juniper that she needed to leave this very moment if she wanted to be on time for her lesson. With resolve, she shifted so the timepiece was out of view. Just this once.

  A moment later, the newcomer reached them. The girl stepped up to where Juniper sat and curtseyed awkwardly. Tippy giggled, and Elly quietly cuffed her again.

  “My name is Alta, milady,” the girl puffed, reaching up to smooth her straggly hair. “Alta Mavenham. My father’s the baker in town, and I was delivering bread to the kitchen here this morning when I saw your notice. I should like to join you on your journey.”

  Juniper sat up straighter in her seat. “Come closer, Alta. We are glad to have you apply. You’re a baker, you say?”

  Alta started shaking her head, then seemed to see something in Juniper’s face that made her hesitate. “Ye-es?” she squeaked.

  “Excellent!” Juniper clapped her hands. “Do you cook other things also?”

  Alta’s shoulders slumped.

  “She’s good at baking, but she don’t like to,” chirped a voice from behind Juniper’s seat.

  “Tippy!” Elly yelped and dashed for her, but Alta’s look gave Juniper pause.

  “Is this true, Alta Mavenham?” she asked. Then she made her tone as soft as she could. “Please tell me true. I wish to have recruits who see their work as a passion, not a chore.”

  “It’s true, milady,” Alta admitted. She scuffed the gravel with a sandaled toe. “Every morning I must wake at four hours after midnight, well before the cock crows. I make dough and knead it and roll it out, and I toil in the heat of those blasted ovens. It’s not that I begrudge my pa the work, exactly, but . . .” She bit her lip.

  “And what is it you do want to do, then?” Juniper asked.

  Alta looked up, her eyes blazing with a sudden fierce light. “I wish to be a soldier, Your Highness. Oh, I know what you’ll say,” she added quickly, cutting right through the surprise that was clearly visible on Juniper’s face. “I know I’m a girl, and I look all dainty and delicate-like. But I’ve trained every day for years. I’ve fought boys twice my size, and I’ve never been beaten. Not for ages, anyway,” she amended.

  “I . . .” Juniper didn’t know what to say.

  Alta looked miserable. “I know it’s a foolish dream. My pa says so all the time, says I should be happy with the work I’ve got here to hand. Torr’s army isn’t what it used to be, back in the day when all youths were required to put in their fighting years. Females barely even join up, these days. But then I saw your notice—well, it’s the talk of adventuring that caught my eye, honestly. I’m a baker, and my pa’s a baker, and my grandparents both before him, and on through the generations. There’s flour and not steel in these here veins. And yet”—she paused, then continued in a rush—“I thought if it was somewhere new, made up all of boys and girls our age . . . well, why should we have to follow all the rules we leave behind? Why shouldn’t we be any way—or anyone—we please?”

  Juniper sat up straight in her seat. It was like having the thoughts pulled right from her own mind. “What about your father?” she asked suddenly. “You have talked to him about this?”

  Alta nodded eagerly. “I’ve been there and back this very morning. The truth is, my pa’s none too happy, Your Highness. But he loves me so and said I might have a spell away. Stretch my wings, he said. I reckon he thinks it’ll make me homesick for the family ovens.” She grinned wickedly, as if to emphasize how wrong he was.

  Something caught Juniper’s eye. “What is that around your waist?”

  Flushing, Alta pulled her cloak shut. Then, hanging her head a little, she opened it to show a roughly crafted leather scabbard. “’Tis my sword, Your Highness.” Her voice was scarcely a whisper, but it glowed with pride. “I’ve saved up every penny I could for the last three years. I finally bought it two fortnights ago . . . The blacksmith’s apprentice made me a special offer on a reject.” She pulled out a sword with no defects that Juniper could see: a slim, strong blade with a skillfully worked handle.

  “That is a fine piece,” Juniper said approvingly. She considered the girl for a moment, then clapped her hands together. “Alta Mavenham, you shall come on our expedition. You are to be my royal guard.”

  Alta’s face flushed a scarlet sunbeam as she slid her sword back into its scabbard. While quite unable to form any words, she seemed on the verge of kicking up her heels and sidestepping across the yard. Then a blur shot out from behind a nearby shrub. Tippy tore over to grab Alta’s hands and prance about her in jubilant circles, all the while chanting loudly, “Four! Four! Now we are four!”

  • • •

  They were four—but no more. The following days clipped briskly by, but though Juniper waited patiently, with Erick, Alta, and Tippy checking in when they could, no other recruits came to answer her notice. It was enough to tempt even Juniper’s stubbornly sunny spirits to flag.

  “We’re nowhere near enough,” she told the others, having taken the occasion of her outdoor constitutional to squeeze into Paul’s secret garden for a quick emergency meeting. “There’s ever so many roles to fill.”

  Erick nodded. He should know; he was the one who had suggested most of them.

  “Maybe people are too busy,” said Alta. “Or maybe they haven’t seen the signs, with whatever else they’v
e got going on.”

  “Yes,” Erick agreed. “Maybe you’ve got to go to them.”

  “Go to them?” Juniper said slowly. “But who?” Her strict Comportment rules kept her firmly away from any “mingling” with palace workers, young or otherwise. It had always been that way. Juniper considered. Well . . . it had always been that way—until the last few days, when she’d begun pushing at the edges of those boundaries.

  She leaped to her feet. “You’re both brilliant!” she shouted, and galloped off through the bushes. She stopped only when she reached the edge of the woods to calm her breathing, smooth her gown, and compose a suitably regal face.

  Then she set about to poach herself some subjects.

  • • •

  The plan was as simple as it was perfect. Follow the passion, her mother had loved to say, for it will never steer you wrong. And that certainly proved to be the case here.

  Her country needed a good gardener—and who loved plants more than Paul Perigor? He actually fell over his own feet in his eagerness to sign up. The face of Leena the serving maid grew as bright and sharp as a carving when Juniper showed her the flyer and told her about the plan. She claimed immediate control of the kitchens, which she confided was a long-held dream. And Toby Dell, equestrian gatekeeper, only let her get as far as “all-kids country” and “animals” before giving his enthusiastic assent.

  “I’ve got two other prospects for you, as well,” Toby added. “My sisters Oona and Sussi. They’re a couple of whippets, and always up for adventure. I’ll ask them tonight, but I’m certain they’ll be on board.”

  Indeed they were. The final additions to the team were Roddy Rodin, a rake-thin carpenter’s apprentice who was reputedly able to bring anything wooden to life; and Filbert Terrafirm, a lumbering giant of a boy with no visible skills but whose calm disposition and muscle-bound strength made him a clear asset.

  Before Juniper quite knew it, two weeks had flown by and she and her group found themselves on the eve of their great departure. Alta had spent the full fortnight in the guards’ barracks, going through an intensive course of training, drills, and maneuvers. King Regis had praised her swordsmanship in the highest of terms, approving her for the post of Juniper’s royal guard, but Alta seemed determined not to rest until she achieved some superhuman level of skill. As far as Juniper could see, she was far past that point already.