A Royal Masquerade

by Allison Tebo

  Windslow made an obnoxious cooing sound. “What do you call the creature?”

  “Meck,” Penelope snapped, dropping the cloth over the cage and hiding the dumovai from view again.

  “Meck!” Windslow cried with bombastic glee. “What a charming name!”

  “Is that the typical way to transport a dumovai?” Burndee asked coolly. “In a cage?”

  Penelope gave him a gauging look, clearly moving him to her mental list of enemies, and said stiffly, “Sometimes. Other times, he’s on a leash. He’s a restless traveler, and dumovai always make a mess if they’re not watched every minute.” Her expression indicated that she intended to watch Burndee just as closely. They exchanged fake smiles.

  “Well, Your Highness,” Windslow said nervously. “I’m sure you’ll want to—”

  Penelope suddenly let out a bone-chilling howl. “Oh, it’s a skunk!”

  Burndee grabbed at his heart to assure himself that it was still working properly and then whipped his head around to see a small skunk peering at them from some ornamental bushes and most definitely grinning as it turned around and raised its tail.

  Burndee had never seen Windslow move so fast. He was around the other side of the carriage in an instant. Judging from the panicked banging that followed, he was trying to get into the carriage, presumably so that if the skunk proved aggressive, he could make a fast getaway.

  Penelope danced up and down, shaking her shirts and shrieking—whether in an effort to scare off the skunk or from nerves, it was impossible to tell—and then, without warning, she threw herself at Horace.

  Burndee had to admit she was intuitive—she had recognized Horace’s serviceability as a human shield. Unfortunately, she really did seem to be unaccustomed to high heels, and Horace did not have the reaction time or the panache to grab a girl when she tried to leap into his arms.

  Penelope slammed into the unsuspecting Horace full-force, and both of them went over backwards in a startled heap, with Penelope squalling all the way down. Their fall was cushioned by thick flowerbeds and their voluminous outfits, but there was still an ominous thud. Burndee was treated to an excellent view of Penelope’s troublesome high heels as they kicked wildly in the air.

  “Get me out of here, get me up, get me up, get me uuuuuuup!” Penelope screeched.

  Kreek hurried to the rescue and ended up being used as a ladder as Penelope crawled off Horace. Her ankle turned yet again, and she frantically seized Kreek by the neck to keep from falling.

  “Are you all right, Your Highness?” Kreek managed to gargle.

  “No, I’m not all right. I nearly broke my ankle by stepping into this mole hole, you clod!”

  Burndee imagined turning Penelope into a mole, pointing her towards Radorria, and then cramming her down the hole with his boots.

  Kreek wheezed, and Penelope released him with a sharp slap across his chest that caused a loose button to snap off his vest. Windslow’s house and staff really did need some updating. The brass button sailed across the lawn and into the bushes. Burndee could have sworn he heard a muffled voice that sounded remarkably like Colin’s say, “ow.”

  Burndee and the carriage driver exchanged glances. The driver had remained where he was on top of the carriage throughout the debacle, working doggedly at a knot that lashed Penelope’s final trunk to his vehicle. Judging from his disheveled appearance, he looked as if he had already encountered several wild animals on the road from Nelease, so a skunk was seemingly of no particular concern to him. Penelope’s guards had also remained unmoving throughout the spectacle. Burndee looked at them and could have sworn they hadn’t even blinked or breathed since they had reined in their horses. The effect was slightly creepish.

  Burndee opened the carriage door, and Windslow looked out at him sheepishly.

  “You can come out now,” Burndee said without expression. “The skunk’s gone.”

  “That’s what you think!” a voice called from the bushes.

  Windslow paused in mid-motion of stepping out of the carriage. Penelope stopped fussing over her dress, and everyone looked around, trying to identify the source of the voice. Except for Horace. He was still lying silently in the flowerbeds, waiting for assistance.

  “Perhaps some luncheon?” Burndee suggested loudly, staring into the bushes. “It might be better to get inside until it leaves.”

  “Quite right,” Windslow clucked. “Yes, a lovely luncheon and some soothing tea, princess?”

  “Well, I expected to have tea sometime,” Penelope said peevishly. “The breakfast I was served at that rotten little inn was dreadful. What I really need is a nice place to soothe my nerves. I assume my rooms are ready? I need to be taken there at once. That creature was more than I can stand after a day like today.”

  A day like today? Hardly a compliment to Windslow and Horace.

  Windslow escorted her personally up the front steps of the Hall, twittering nervously the whole time about tea and scones. Poor Horace, looking decidedly less clean than he had five minutes ago, was erected by Kreek, and he wandered inside by his own locomotion. Kreek then directed the guards towards the stables to care for their mounts.

  Burndee lingered on the front drive and made mumbling excuses for lagging behind, but nobody was paying attention to him anyway. As soon as they had all gone inside, he stomped over to the bushes and pushed his way through the hedge, popping out into a hidden, grassy knoll.

  Colin was laughing, muffling the sound with his paws, and rolling around hysterically on the grass. “Did you see their faces? Wasn’t that delightful?”

  “Colin, are you trying to sabotage this affair?”

  The prince stopped kicking his paws in the air and sat up. “Of course not! I’m merely helping it along! You saw that dismal conversation. Someone needed to break the ice.” He snickered. “Why, I practically made Penelope leap into Horace’s arms!” Colin broke down into helpless guffaws again but managed to choke out, “And since when did you care about human affairs running smoothly?”

  Since Ella had told him to behave this morning. Because one disappointed look from Ella made Burndee feel like a stomped-on worm, and he was going to avoid that feeling at all costs.

  But he’d sooner pass out than say that. “Look, the smoother this goes, the sooner we can get out of here—”

  “It’s a tad late for things to run smoothly, isn’t it?” Colin said dryly.

  Burndee opted for a strategic silence on that point and attacked a different matter. “I told you to stay back by the fountain!”

  “Since you childishly insist on leaving me in this form,” Colin continued loftily, “I have been experimenting with how to use the time effectively.” He grinned, his whiskers turning up at the ends. “I decided that I’m going to have some fun.”

  Burndee’s mind seemed to screech to a halt. He might have expected Colin to turn the tables on him like this. There was no telling what Colin would do or say in this form, and it would be only a matter of hours before the news spread like wildfire that Prince Colin had been enchanted. Burndee’s true identity as a fairy godfather might be revealed to a dismaying number of people. Fey would learn of Burndee’s out-of-control behavior, and, worst of all, Ella would know that he had not been nice after she’d asked him to be.

  Colin examined his claw tips. “Well, are you done sulking? Are you going to reverse the enchantment now?”

  Burndee opened his mouth—then stopped. Colin might be a future king, but Burndee was a fairy and his godfather, and he felt that the respect due him had been trampled on. Colin needed to see he couldn’t get away with his infantile behavior.

  “What if I let you stay a skunk? What do you think about that?” he said, feeling out the possibilities.

  “I’m not bothered,” Colin said in an infuriatingly calm tone that made Burndee want to grab him by the tail, swing him around, and throw him onto the nearest parapet. “Somebody will turn me back into a human again. Father will disenchant me himself if my being a sku
nk interferes with his plans for abdication.” He chortled. “Oh, I say, I could have a bit of fun with Father, looking like this.”

  “No, you won’t!” Burndee threatened. Would he?

  “And when Fey finds out what you did to your future king . . .” Colin allowed his voice to trail off meaningfully.

  “How dare you threaten me? I’m your godfather, a fairy—infinitely superior to you in every way! This is punishment for what you did. How dare you say you’ll report me to Fey?”

  “This wasn’t punishment; this was you being irresponsible and letting your temper off its leash. Normal people don’t get to turn people into skunks whenever they’re startled or force people to remain being a skunk just because they’ve been provoked. Mature people learn to handle their anger in less harmful ways. One of these days, you’re going to really hurt someone with that temper of yours!”

  Hot anger exploded inside of Burndee. “I don’t need a lecture from a future king that’s so mature he goes around shoving people into fountains and causing diplomatic incidents just to amuse himself! No. I won’t reverse it. Yet.”

  Colin gave him an astounded look. “Now look here, Burndee! You can’t still be that upset with me—or so upset that you can’t use your magic. So, obviously, you are simply holding a grudge, which really is quite childish for a married man.”

  Burndee jerked, stung. He despised having Ella brought up in the middle of an argument. “And shoving someone into a fountain isn’t childish?”

  “All right! So we both behaved childishly, I freely admit it.”

  “I don’t have time to deal with this now,” Burndee said immovably, brushing Colin’s words away. “Windslow and his party are expecting me show up for tea.”

  “Burndee . . . they’re expecting me.”

  “All right, fine! Fine! Look, I’m trying.” Burndee flicked his fingers multiple times, growing increasingly frustrated and, thus, increasingly mad.

  “That really is ridiculous.” Colin eyed him. “What kind of a fairy are you? You really ought to get that anger-management problem fixed.” Colin caught one look at Burndee’s face and seemed to realize it would be wise to shut up before Burndee evaporated him.

  “Look,” Burndee growled, stooping down and picking up Colin none-too-gently.

  “Hey, careful!” Colin began, but Burndee cut him off as he stalked back through the bushes.

  “I’m going to stow you somewhere safe for the time being so you don’t get stepped on or eaten—or, worse, decide to play any more jokes. I’ll go to tea and then come back and . . . we’ll see.” If you’ve learned your lesson, he thought.

  Colin sniffed. “I’ll have to make do with that solution, I suppose, since there’s no reasoning with you now. While you’re at tea, sneak me something. I’m hungry.”

  “Eat a larva. That’s what skunks eat.”

  Colin wrinkled his nose. “Mmm, I don’t think so. Cynthia wants me to stop eating so many grubs and insects.” He started laughing at his own joke.

  Burndee scowled. “Very funny.”

  Colin lolled back in Burndee’s arms and crossed his ankles. “I never thought I’d see the day when you’d carry me around!”

  Burndee was tempted to dump Colin on his head. “Everything’s a joke to you, isn’t it?”

  “Most things in life are funny—especially people who work so hard at being cranky all the time.”

  “I am not cranky!”

  “On the other hand, being turned into a skunk is not particularly funny,” Colin continued, returning to his original attack with the annoying persistence of a toddler. “Except for everyone’s reactions, of course.”

  “Look, just behave yourself for once and stay in one place, and if you do, I’ll . . . I’ll . . . do something.”

  “Hmm—small comfort. Very well, godfather, if you insist.”

  Burndee tromped through Windslake Hall’s grounds and made his way to the small, forested park that began just beyond the flower garden. A small outbuilding had been given over to Raoul’s troupe for the night, and the ramshackle caravan was milling all over the place. A wooden stage had been temporarily erected in front of the outbuilding. A handful of servants were frantically following instructions from Raoul as he directed them with much arm waving and overly dramatic commands frequently punctuated by snatches of sonnets, since he was trying to rehearse a scene with Prudence at the same time. Prudence made good use of Raoul’s distraction to flirt with Windslow’s footman while the twins, Dusan and Dalasar, hung streamers and lanterns on anything standing still. Armand, the giant, arranged cushioned benches in front of the stage, furtively cramming something dark into his mouth, that he munched contentedly between sneezes.

  Remembering what Raoul had said earlier about Armand eating mice, Burndee winced and turned away, finally spotting the girl called Poppy. She was climbing out of a troupe wagon with what appeared to be a sack of animal feed.

  Burndee rushed towards her and followed her as she rounded the wagon and began feeding the geese that were tied to a wagon wheel.

  “Pardon me, miss, but can you help me?”

  She whipped around, clutching at her heart, her braid thumping against her shoulder. Everything about her reminded Burndee of a rabbit—brown hair, wide-eyed, blending in with the surroundings, nervous, energetic, and curious.

  “I . . . don’t know?” She made it sound like a question. Not exactly helpful and rather exasperating.

  “You do know how to care for animals, don’t you?”

  Colin gave Burndee an affronted look at the word “animals.”

  “Oh yes, I know how to take care of animals,” the girl said with more confidence, although the way she was twisting her hands was less than convincing.

  “Excellent.” Burndee held out Colin as if he were a not-very-nice parcel. “Can you look after a skunk for me for just an hour or two?”

  “Oh, of course I can!” The girl’s nervous face relaxed into a genuine smile as she took Colin in her arms and cuddled him.

  “Excuse me—I’m married,” the irrepressible Colin piped up slyly.

  The girl nearly dropped him, and Colin waved his claws wildly for balance.

  “You . . . you . . . ?” She felt for her heart and stared at Colin as if he had grown another head. “You talk?”

  “Yes,” Burndee blurted, wishing frantically that Colin would shut up. “But it was an . . . an accident.”

  Colin gave him a pitying look and then rolled his eyes.

  Burndee jabbed his finger at Colin’s muzzle. “I’m warning you: behave yourself.”

  Colin stood up on the girl’s arm and straightened his tiny tunic. “I’m behaving reasonably.”

  The girl looked as if she might collapse from shock, yet there was a cautious snap of curiosity in her eyes. “Are you a ventriloquist?” she asked Burndee.

  Burndee dredged up a queasy smile. “Um . . . yes.”

  “Sometimes he forgets it!” Colin said mischievously.

  The girl giggled, her eyes dancing a little at Burndee with amusement and admiration. Burndee managed to produce a forced laugh in response. “If you could just feed him, perhaps—”

  “I like crumpets,” said Colin.

  “And just stick him in a cage or something,” Burndee said loudly, trying to drown him out.

  “A cage?” Colin protested. “You most certainly will not.”

  Burndee coughed explosively in a vain attempt to mask Colin’s protests, but, fortunately, the girl still seemed to think that he was teasing her and providing Colin’s voice, since she was grinning.

  “What’s going on out here?” demanded a voice that sounded like an out-of-tune trumpet.

  Burndee, Colin, and Poppy turned to see the dwarf, Conrad, sticking his head out of the troupe’s wagon and eyeing them suspiciously. He clambered laboriously down a ladder, put his hands on his hips, and glowered up at them, his small, quick blue eyes staring at Burndee from within the crevice-like wrinkles of his face.

/>   “Conrad!” the girl said with a quick catch in her voice. “I was just—the gentleman was just asking me a question.” She sounded nervous, although Burndee wasn’t sure why. After all, Conrad was a dwarf. He was muscular, but he wasn’t particularly threatening; he didn’t even reach Burndee’s waist.

  Conrad made a sound between a laugh and a snort. “Quit flirting with the guests and get back to your work, you wretched—”

  “She wasn’t flirting with him, you simple-minded pumpkin.” Colin interrupted calmly. “You ought to know that if you were eavesdropping.”

  Conrad gaped and looked in danger of having his eyes pop out of his skull, partly, Burndee supposed, because he wasn’t sure if a skunk had just spoken to him, and partly because he probably couldn’t believe someone had dared to call him a simple-minded pumpkin.

  “He’s a ventriloquist!” Poppy blurted, by way of explanation, and then she gaped in horror as she realized that she had betrayed Burndee to her cranky nursemaid. Now Conrad knew who to blame for comparing him to an orange, earthbound object. She looked at Burndee with wide eyes, trying to communicate that she was sorry.

  Burndee sighed but offered her a reassuring nod. He had dealt with sneaks that were twice as impossible as Conrad. He could hammer this stump into the ground with one blow, and he doubted it would come to that, since he could be twice as rude and unpleasant as Conrad without even trying.

  “Oh, he’s a ventriloquist, is he?” Conrad said in a low, rather nasty tone as he looked Burndee over from head to toe—no mean feat, considering their relative sizes.

  Burndee tried to look as much like a ventriloquist as possible and glared at the unpleasant little baggage.

  “Yes, I’m an amateur ventriloquist,” he said. “And I’d advise you to put the free time you seem to find yourself encumbered with to good use by learning to speak respectfully to your betters. While you’re at it, you might try being civil when you speak to a young girl.”