And if Cyril had been sneaking in to cause trouble by stealing their milk and eggs, it wasn’t a big leap to guess that he’d also been behind the other attacks on the camp. She had no idea how he’d done it or what he’d hoped to accomplish. Wreak havoc, sow confusion, undermine her authority? It hardly mattered now.
Cyril was every bit the villain.
They just had to find a way to let everyone know it.
Tippy swallowed and turned her eyes back to her dinner. “Okay,” she mouthed. “I’ll try.”
Juniper nodded. Tippy wouldn’t be able to get many of them up there—though Cyril had claimed the Great Tree as his own headquarters now, he watched everything that went on in the Basin—but every little bit would help.
She knew Cyril wasn’t going to give up his new kingdom without a fight. And time was quickly passing.
• • •
“How are things out in the camp?” Erick asked her that night, once Root had locked the cell door and Filbert had settled his bulk solidly in front of it. Cyril had recently done away with the curtain, which let in a cool night breeze through the woven door, but made it harder to have any private conversations. Which was, of course, the point.
Juniper carefully removed her blue overdress and hung it from a rocky crag in the wall. After an unexpected tussle with the weeds along the main walkway today, she’d given up on keeping her cream underdress, well, cream-colored. But there was still hope for the kirtle. “It goes as well as can be,” she said, sighing. “How go you in here?”
“We are fine,” said Alta. “Only running half mad with boredom. Not a book in sight, don’t you know?” She grinned at Erick, as though rehashing a familiar joke.
“It has been hard,” Erick admitted, in perfect seriousness. “I learned to read when I was approaching my third Nameday. I don’t suppose I’ve gone a full day since then without some book or another near to hand. Even when I had the spotted ague two summers ago, I kept my favorite tomes hidden under the covers in my sickbed. I was too weak to read, but their presence was a comfort.” He sighed.
“So, how have you been keeping busy?” Juniper asked.
“I have been teaching Erick some sword skills. It would seem that boredom brings out all sorts of hidden talents.”
“Sword skills?” Juniper lowered her voice. “But with what weapons?”
“Weapons of air,” retorted Alta. “But no less useful for all that. Much of fighting is in the stance and positioning, as you’ll know.”
“It’s rather like dancing,” said Erick. “I never could set my mind to fighting back home. But stuck in here as we are, and with the image of Cyril always close to mind . . . well, it does put a new shine on dull metal.”
Juniper grinned. “I am glad to hear you’re looking to build new skills, and I’m sure those will come in handy before long. Meanwhile, I’ve got another for you. Alta, will you sit here before me?”
With that, she slid her comb out of her sleeve and began to sweep Alta’s hair back from her head.
“Have a care,” Alta yelped. “That thing’s sharp!”
Juniper grinned. “It’s whittled of real polished bone, that’s why. Now, Erick, pay careful attention.”
Erick’s eyebrows rose and he took a step back, but Juniper grabbed his arm and yanked him closer.
“You want me to groom Alta’s hair?” he stammered.
“She’s not a horse, you dunderhead. I’m going to teach you a few tricks of the trade. Something to keep you busy during your long hours of captivity. It’s ever so useful to know how to fix a lady’s hair, wouldn’t you say?”
Alta looked almost as green-faced as Erick did, and Juniper laughed softly. “Cheer up, you two. It is all part of the plan.” She cast a glance through the pool of moonlight, at the figure of Filbert, who was loudly stutter-snoring at the door. “Now, after the hair is fully combed out straight and smooth, you start by dividing it into three even sections . . .”
• • •
Over the next few days, Juniper was satisfied to see the planned celebration shaping up smashingly. Sussi and Toby had been recruited as Leena’s full-time kitchen helpers. It frustrated Juniper to no end how Alta’s talents were wasted in lockup; aside from the help she would have been in overthrowing Cyril’s rule, she could make a mean pear-hazelnut pie. Still, Toby had come armed with his grandmother’s recipe for sweet quince stew, and Sussi proved excellent at chopping, rolling, and stirring.
The younger girl sidled up to Juniper during a rare moment when Root had disappeared to answer nature’s call, grabbing Juniper’s work-tussled hands in both her hers. “I’m ever so sorry about the ballot,” she said furtively. “I was wrong, and I—” She looked both ways and leaned in, pushing the rest of the words out in a rush. “If I should ever get the chance to change my stone, I’d do so in a heartbeat. That Cyril’s a weasel, and no mistake.”
With that, Sussi turned back to her work, leaning next to Leena as the three pored over the final menu. Juniper felt her smile nearly splitting her face. She could have hugged the two girls next to her right now. She looked around for Root, but he was still away. Toby, though, was looking at them thoughtfully. Juniper’s heart froze. Surely he could tell what they were thinking—what they’d just been talking about. Easily, so easily, the whole thing could unravel.
Toby stepped closer.
“We’ll all do what we can to sway things in your favor, Your Highness,” Toby said, and Juniper thought she would pass out with relief.
“I’m ever so grateful for your support,” she whispered. “But we can’t talk of this right now. I’ve got a plan. I shall keep you informed as things unfold.”
Root ambled back up, returning to his seat to begin work on a new bag of hazelnuts. But they were beyond reproach: just four humble subjects, hard at work in the kitchens.
“Be very, very careful in anything you say,” Juniper said under her breath. “The last thing we want to do is arouse suspicions at this time. The stones have ears.” She raised her eyebrows significantly as she kicked a hazelnut shell out of the way.
“Only two days until the ball,” said Toby. He raised his voice. “And I’ve thought of a way we might infuse some cream with fresh lemongrass. My gran was much for the herbal essence, you see.” He grinned, and Leena’s whole face lit up.
“I do love the sound of that!” Juniper exclaimed. Then, “If we have time, that is. There is still the Great Confection to be planned.”
“That’s just it,” said Toby. “I thought a layer of your excellent sponge”—he nodded to Leena—“topped all over with this cream—”
“Would we have enough cream?” Juniper interrupted. “You do realize how large this Confection has to be, don’t you?” Behind her, Root shifted and strolled in their direction. She moderated her tone. “Cyril’s orders—it shall be the cake to hang all cakes. Roddy is building a wheeled cart for it, and on the very tip-top will rest the Circlet.”
“The all-important Coronation Confection,” said Sussi, with a conspiratorial wink.
Juniper returned her grin, but kept her voice steady. “Try for the lemongrass cream, or whatever most pleases your palate. I’ve given all the specifications that are important to me. The rest I leave in your capable hands.”
• • •
So her loyal subjects now counted eight. Even as Juniper rejoiced, she knew that this was likely all she would get. Root and Jessamyn were unquestionably Cyril’s. She’d not seen Oona leave his side in days; the girl was obviously nursing an epic crush. And Filbert and Roddy so thoroughly embraced their guard duty that it seemed clear where their loyalties lay. Still, Juniper’s plan was in motion; she would have to make do as best she could.
At least the food was solidly under way, and the Beauty Chamber had been reorganized so that all the gowns were tidy and in order. In keeping with her resolution, Juniper asked Ti
ppy to be sure all the girls would gather in the Beauty Chamber before the big event. Baths were strongly recommended to all the night before, and nobody but Root seemed to find this idea offensive. Juniper pinched her nose mockingly in his direction, and he aimed a playful kick at her shins. The next she saw, he was heading toward the pool, drying cloth in hand, and Juniper dashed off for a few minutes’ conference with Toby about important cake-related matters.
And with that, the preparations came to a close. There was just one last thing to be done, and on the night before the coronation, Juniper tackled this with gusto. Standing up with her half-empty dinner bowl in hand, she marched over to stand in front of Cyril. “There’s something we haven’t talked about,” she said.
Cyril looked up and arched an eyebrow.
“It’s about Erick and Alta. It’s not fair that you’re still keeping them locked up.”
“They’ll be let out when we all leave, the day after tomorrow. Following my coronation.”
Juniper’s eyes widened. “You’re not going to let them come to the ball? You can’t be serious!”
Cyril crushed the cracker he was holding in his fist. “I am always serious,” he hissed. “And don’t you forget it. I wouldn’t even be letting you attend this event if you weren’t such an important part of the . . . coronation process. Now go back and sit down.”
“They have to be there!” Juniper said, stomping her foot. “It’s not right, and you know it.”
“Sit!” Cyril roared, and the conversation around them stuttered and froze. Looking uncomfortably from side to side, Cyril spun on his heel and strode off into the darkness.
Juniper’s mouth turned down, and she put a hand to her chest. She wobbled a little and sat down. In Cyril’s seat. She turned her attention back to her food, and only once everyone’s attention was back on their own meals did she allow herself a slow, private smile.
THE MORNING OF THE CORONATION DAWNED sunny and bright, and Juniper took it as a sign of clear trails and a smooth road ahead. Of course, if it had been overcast, she would have taken it as a sign that the gloomy days of Cyril’s realm were nearing an end. Even rain would have felt like a shower of blessings.
Anything might go wrong; anything at all. But she would be ready for it. She would take what the universe threw her way and mold it into everything she needed it to be.
The morning hours blew by in a flutter of final touches and last-minute preparation. Sussi was the first girl to peer in the entrance of the Beauty Chamber, awkwardly smoothing her mud-stained skirts.
“Come in,” Juniper exclaimed, tugging her inside.
“I never thought I should set foot inside your chamber . . .”
“Why, this isn’t my chamber!” She scanned the racks of gowns and pots and bundles. “Well, the items in here are mine, I suppose—or they were. But I have pledged and made it so: Every item in here is the property of Queen’s Basin and fully available to anyone who wishes to use it.” Her eye caught on a favorite lace bonnet. “Er, as long as everyone takes good care of everything, that is. Now, what do you want to wear?”
Sussi was struck speechless, but Leena and Oona, who had come in for the end of Juniper’s speech, had no such qualms.
“I do love a deep forest green,” said Oona, fingering a high-waisted dress of a rich brocade silk.
“That will look astonishing with your coloring and your eyes,” Juniper exclaimed. “Only the back is a dervish to lace up. Turn around, and I shall help you with it.”
The girls thawed quickly, as the room erupted in a whirl of silks and scarves and paints and powders. Even Jessamyn made an appearance—not surprising, perhaps, given her love of dressing up. While she mostly kept off to her own corner, she was quite happy to make use of Juniper’s powders and creams. All in all, the mood was as light and frothy as before any grand ball. Juniper advised, assisted, and finally took her turn being fixed up in the elaborate hairstyle she had worn every day for the past week. She was frankly sick of the cumbersome, overly ornamental updo. But so help her, if she made it through this day, she would never braid her hair again. She buttoned the peacock kirtle, smoothed its bulky pockets flat against her hips, and fluffed out the giant bow. She took in a deep breath and steadied her nerves. Around her, the other girls gathered in a flowery bouquet of partygoing anticipation.
Tonight, now, it would all begin to happen.
Tonight she would learn if she truly had what it took to be a queen, to take back her own kingdom.
She was ready.
• • •
Cyril was the last to arrive for the dinner feast—except for Alta and Erick, of course, who had been left in their cell with a double padlock on the door in place of their guards. The rest were gathered in a giddy mass, each looking like a cleaner, shinier version of themselves: faces aglow, hair sleek and smooth and styled, the girls adorned in gowns and accessories aplenty from Juniper’s stash in the Beauty Chamber. Even the boys had turned up in clean, pressed garments. Slippered feet and heeled boots tapped the immaculate floor in anticipation of the first strains of music. Smiles were everywhere.
Moving slowly and affectedly—not even glancing at his supposed subjects, Juniper noticed—Cyril strode up the stone walkway into the dining area. While his people didn’t catch his notice, the surroundings did, and he turned his head to every side in obvious appreciation at what he saw.
And well he might!
At Juniper’s request, he had stayed away from the dining area all day while final preparations were made. The posts and roof lintels had been draped and wound with strings of fresh bluevine, and threaded through with wildflowers. The cornices had been fitted with softly glowing candles made with Sussi’s own perfumed wax. As the sun set, the whole dining area would begin to glow, growing in brightness from the luminescent berries that were twined in among the floral hangings.
The low serving table in the center of the room was heaped with delicacies of all types: pies and breads, puddings and lightly spiced greens, and a giant pot of steaming fish soup. There was enough for all the settlers to stuff themselves ten times over, and Juniper felt a pang for how many careful meals this one feast could have supported.
They’d had to dip well into the reserves for this. How much farther would their food stores stretch now?
But she had set out to impress Cyril, and she’d succeeded. He strode up and down the food table, smiling and nodding. He reached the end, dropped onto his throne, and called out, “So where’s my crown?”
Juniper steadied her breathing. “Patience, Cyril. All things in their time.”
“Patience, my lord,” he corrected.
“You’re not my lord yet, Cyril,” she said sweetly. “In any case, first we shall feast. Then we shall clear and set up for the party proper, then finally, we shall bring out the Coronation Confection.”
“The what?”
“Surely you are familiar with this tradition?” It was an antiquated custom dating back to the days of Oufrey the Extravagant, when a giant throne-sized cake was used to deliver the crown to its new ruler. Hearing about it one day in the midst of a dull, obscure political history lecture, Juniper had latched on to the interesting tidbit, loving how it entwined food with royal responsibility.
In this case, it would be especially purposeful.
Dinner was a roaring success. Luncheon had been exceedingly spare, and the elaborately dressed partygoers fell upon the table with gumption, eating their way through sundown and into the first shadows of night. When the pace of consumption began to slow, Juniper nodded to Tippy, who jumped up and edged out of the circle.
“Where is she going?” Cyril called. “Root!”
“She simply goes to set up the Musicker,” said Juniper smoothly, “for the dance portion of our evening activity. Which we shall have to undertake here in the dining area, since the Great Tree has been put to other purposes
. Root may accompany her up the Tree if he chooses.” She took a deep breath. “I myself shall go along with Toby and Leena, to prepare the Confection.”
Cyril’s eyes narrowed. “No, I don’t think so. Root, go with Juniper. Stick to her like treacle. I do want someone to go watch that little tyke, though. Jessamyn?”
But Tippy was already long gone; Juniper alone saw her elflock curls disappearing in the long grass, running past the Great Tree—and then doubling back in the opposite direction.
• • •
The music began to play not long after, and Juniper sighed in relief. She stood in the kitchen, inspecting the Confection. It was magnificent, four times as tall and three as wide as their largest cook pot, towering with fragrant cream and fancy cut fruits. It had been assembled directly in its place on the specially designed cart, being far too big to have been moved otherwise. The cart was a clumsy contraption, rolling about two hands off the ground on roughly sanded wheels. But it would do. Sussi had braided the pull rope with thick velvet ribbons, which lent an additional festive touch.
“Very well,” said Juniper. “It is looking good. I shall leave you to the final delivery when the time is right.”
“We shall await your signal,” said Leena with a nod.
“It looks precarious,” said Root uncertainly. “Perhaps I should stay and help pull it in.”
Catching Leena’s eye, Juniper said, “I hardly think that necessary. Didn’t Cyril command you to shadow my every step?”
Root snorted. “That Cyril takes on far too many airs. It’s like he thinks himself a real king.”
At any other time, Juniper would have rejoiced at this possible shift in Root’s loyalties. But too much rode on this delivery. She needed to get him away from here. Fast.
Before she could formulate a strategy, Leena cut in. “You think I’m going to let you anywhere near my cake? It’s bad enough I have to slave away for that prig, without having his grubby henchman’s hands all over my creation.” She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes.
Princess Juniper of the Hourglass Page 20