A Royal Masquerade

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A Royal Masquerade Page 9

by Allison Tebo


  Smiling and applauding softly, Burndee slipped out of his hiding place from behind the outbuilding just as Armand stepped out the door without Poppy.

  “He’ll be here in a minute!” Armand called reassuringly through the door before closing it behind him, looking shyly conspiratorial.

  “Well done,” Burndee told him.

  “My pleasure,” Armand bowed, blew his nose, and ambled away.

  Burndee waited till the strongman was gone and looked around at the ornamental hedges alongside the outbuilding. “You here?”

  The dumovai popped out of the bushes and nodded.

  “Let’s go,” Burndee told him, cracking the door open and letting the dumovai trot inside. Burndee crept cautiously in after him, ducked behind a cart, and watched.

  Poppy was waiting, bewildered and silent, in the middle of the room. She had moved towards a window to step into a stream of sunlight, hugging her thin arms as if she were cold as she stared at the dust motes spinning lazily around her. The sound of scampering feet caused her to look up.

  “Meck!” Poppy shrieked, a bubbling sound somewhere between laughter and tears rushing out of her as she dropped to the ground and clutched at the dumovai.

  “I thought I’d lost you,” she sobbed. “Are you all right, darling? Meck, are you all right?”

  The dumovai nodded as best as it could as she hugged him tightly.

  Poppy stood up, holding him at arm’s length and studying him worriedly. “What’s wrong, Meck? How did you get away from her?” She looked around, anxious, and then hugged him close again, and another sob squeaked out like the cry of a hurt kitten. “What are we going to do, Meck? I don’t know what to do.”

  The dumovai patted her face. “Don’t worry, Poppy. It will be all right.”

  Poppy gasped and promptly dropped him on his head.

  “Ow,” he said.

  “M-M-Meck?” she stammered. “You . . . spoke to me! You’ve never spoken to me before.”

  The dumovai wobbled to his feet and brushed his fur. “Sorry. I’m not Meck. My name is Colin. My current appearance is just an illusion—a spell.”

  Burndee chose that moment to slip out from behind his hiding place with a loud cough.

  Poppy let out a startled cry. “You! You were . . . watching me?”

  “I know he’s scary, but don’t be frightened,” Colin said, patting her knee. “I’m here.”

  Poppy’s head whipped back and forth between Colin and Burndee, her face twisting with a tumult of emotions. “You’re not really a ventriloquist,” she said to Burndee in a faint voice.

  Burndee huffed a breath and reluctantly admitted the truth. “I’m a fairy godfather.”

  She turned stiffly towards Colin, staring at him. “Then, what are you?”

  “I’m his . . . friend,” Colin said with a slightly satiric tone as he tossed a glance at Burndee. “I’m actually a human, but he enchanted me. You met me earlier today as a skunk.”

  Poppy instantly shrank away from Burndee, as if she were afraid he might turn her into a skunk as well.

  “We’re not going to hurt you,” said Colin. “Are we, Burndee?”

  “We’re not going to hurt you,” Burndee agreed, a little less soothingly.

  “What . . . what do you want from me?” Poppy asked, fear flashing across her face, though her posture showed exhaustion and dejection more than terror, as if she had already been through more than she could bear or comprehend.

  Burndee strove to soften his voice. “I want to help you.”

  Poppy bit her lip and tried to rally herself. “I don’t mean to be impolite, but why would you help me?” She paused, obviously confused, but quickly added, “Not that I need help.” She scrubbed hard at her eyes and tried but failed to look as if she hadn’t been crying. “And besides, Radorrians don’t have fairy godfathers. We have . . .” Her voice faltered.

  “Dumovai, I know,” Burndee said. “Like Meck.”

  Poppy turned her head away and stared at the wall.

  “Is Meck yours, Poppy?” Burndee prompted. “Are you really just a goose girl?”

  There was a long, struggling silence as their wills pushed up against each other in a silent battle.

  “I can’t tell you,” Poppy whispered.

  Burndee wrinkled his nose in annoyance.

  Colin cocked his head, “Why not?”

  “I swore an oath not to tell another living person . . . the truth.”

  Burndee could not contain his irritation. “Did you take that oath under duress?”

  “Well, yes . . .”

  Burndee threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “Well then, tell us!”

  Colin waved a claw at him. “Burndee, oaths of honor are extremely important and taken very seriously in Radorria.”

  “But this is ridiculous.” Burndee wheeled on Poppy. “How can you worry about trivialities like that when we’re trying to ferret out the truth? How simple do we have to make this?” Burndee’s voice grew to a positive roar of impatience. “Do you want your dumovai and your life back, or don’t you?” He felt slightly guilty when Poppy cringed, but, for the love of fresh-baked scones, someone needed to shock the girl into speaking.

  Colin broke off shushing and rebuking Burndee and gave a cry of inspiration. He tried to snap his claws, realized he couldn’t, and frowned briefly. “I’ve an idea, Poppy. You can tell Burndee without disgracing yourself or breaking your oath. You can tell Burndee, because he’s just a fairy godfather. He isn’t a real person!”

  “Thanks,” said Burndee.

  “And I’m not a person either,” Colin continued, ignoring him. “At least, not really—not currently.” He smiled magnanimously at Burndee. “Perhaps this”—he waved a hand over his hairy appearance—“worked out after all and was part of a bigger plan.”

  Burndee scowled, squirming under the acknowledgement that his magic, good and bad, did indeed answer and serve a higher order than his own ability and willpower—but he didn’t disagree.

  “Why do you want to know?” Poppy murmured, twisting her hands.

  “Why?” Burndee’s voice cracked annoyingly; he was trying so hard to rein in his impatience. “We want to help you—” He bit off the silly just in time.

  Poppy’s eyes filled with tears. “You don’t understand. I—people could be—hurt if I tell you. People I’m responsible for. I just don’t know who to trust anymore.”

  Burndee wondered if the dumovai disguise had really been quite so clever after all. Poppy’s taut face showed plainly that she had borne a great many tricks already and couldn’t take any more. It seemed that Burndee and Colin hadn’t realized just how dear Meck was to Poppy, and to be teased with his safety only to find out it was a ruse was more than she could forgive.

  A sudden memory of Ella burst into his mind. Hunched and alone in an attic corner. Her arms around her knees, weary, hurt, and betrayed too many times to count.

  He spoke softly. “You can trust us. We helped a girl like you once before. She’s safe now, and we want you to be safe too.”

  “It will be all right, Poppy,” said Colin. “Just let us help you.”

  “Tell us the truth,” Burndee finished.

  There was a long, tingling silence.

  Poppy slowly gathered herself and raised her head, her hands clenched at her sides. “I am Princess Penelope of Radorria.”

  Colin let out a long, low breath.

  “Of course, you are.” Burndee nodded.

  Poppy tugged at the end of her braid and studied the ground, as if, by not looking at them, she would feel better about confessing. “The Penelope you’ve met is actually my maid, Lucinda Henry. She came from Shale, our capital.” Poppy paused and looked at Burndee and Colin as if waiting for them to visualize the place.

  Burndee inwardly rolled his eyes at hearing someone call the sprawling village located on the border of the small, mountainous country a capital. That was stretching things a bit. Still, Poppy paused as if remembering
it fondly, although Burndee couldn’t believe she would have any sentimental memories of the oversized rock called Radorria. He was in danger of losing his patience if she continued telling her story so slowly. He flapped his hands impatiently for her to continue.

  Poppy cleared her throat. “She always did her duty, but I knew deep down she didn’t like me. Lucinda was always . . . resentful . . . towards nobility.”

  Burndee frowned, puzzled. “But in Radorria, there isn’t much difference between peasants and royalty.”

  “Burndee!” Colin said, scandalized.

  “No, it’s all right—he’s right,” Poppy said with a weak smile. “But a royal still has certain advantages and opportunities . . . such as marrying a powerful foreigner.”

  If Radorrians thought of Horace Windslow as a powerful opportunity, Burndee truly did pity them.

  “My father and uncle arranged the marriage between Duke Horace . . . and me.”

  “Did you want to marry him?” Colin asked sympathetically, ever one to sympathize with a royal being pressured to marry for politics.

  “Colin, shut up and stop asking questions that are hardly relevant!” Burndee exploded before twitching a barely-polite smile at Poppy. “Uh, please continue.”

  Poppy opened her mouth, but her words turned into a startled squeak as she gazed past Burndee’s shoulder.

  Burndee whirled and was confronted by a split-second glimpse of Rambling Raoul’s astounded face as he stepped into the barn. Colin drew himself into a ball and threw himself towards Raoul, ramming him in the shins. Raoul toppled forward like a felled tree, squawking as he went down. Burndee caught Raoul before he hit the ground and squashed Colin, who was scrambling wildly to get out of the way of the stampeding feet.

  “Hey! Let go!” Raoul gave a weak, flapping struggle, but Burndee easily restrained him, grabbing the troupe master by the shoulders and flinging him face-first into a horse stall.

  Fortunately for Raoul, he landed in a mound of hay, albeit with a mighty thump. He started to get up, but Burndee and Colin were on him in a twinkling, pinning him to the ground.

  It couldn’t have been easy to shout from his position, but Raoul managed a muffled protest. “Unhand me, you villains!”

  Burndee gave a growl of impatience at the interruption and this new complication. “What is this—a circus?”

  “No, it’s a repertory company,” Colin corrected him, smirking.

  Burndee gave him a dirty look. “You just never run out of jokes, do you?”

  “No, I don’t,” Colin said, adding wickedly, “It’s very convenient, never running out of something, even if I was, say, angry.”

  Burndee choked, and, for a moment, he was sure either Colin or he was going to be in peril of having to be scraped off the roof—one from an act of violence, the other from an explosion of fury. “Why weren’t you standing guard?” he snarled.

  “You didn’t ask me to!”

  “Please don’t hurt Raoul!” Poppy clutched at Burndee’s arm the way she might make a tentative grab for a hot poker.

  “Poppy, my diminutive duckling, is that you?” Raoul mumbled in bewilderment.

  “He might have been spying on us,” Burndee told Poppy, but he stood up and flopped the thrashing Raoul onto his back as if he were a fish. He planted a boot on the man’s stomach to keep him from sitting up.

  “Assassins! Poltroons!” Raoul spluttered, spitting out hay. “Allow me on my feet and face me man to man if you—”

  His voice trailed off as Colin clambered up onto Raoul’s chest and peered into his face. The prince tapped his chin with his paw. “Well, were you spying on us?”

  “Wha-wha-what are you?” Raoul gaped, recoiling.

  “I’m a dumovai,” Colin responded with a grim smile. “Well, actually I’m a human that has the enchanted form of a dumovai. Rest easy, you haven’t lost your mind.”

  Burndee folded his arms. “He’ll lose something if he doesn’t speak up.”

  Colin looked Burndee right in the eyes. His voice was firm. “Let him sit up, Burndee. Now, please.”

  Blinking, Burndee removed his boot from Raoul’s stomach.

  Colin hopped off Raoul’s chest, and the man sat up. “Much obliged to you, er, sir,” he said to Colin. His puzzled eyes snagged on the girl standing behind Burndee. “Poppy, my lovely, why ever have you been crying, sweet thing? Tsk, tsk. You can’t put on a performance with red eyes! What have these two gentlemen been doing to upset you?” Raoul surged to his feet and seemed to expand to match the growing size of his righteous anger. “Why, if they’ve been misbehaving, I’ll—”

  “Yes, yes, very noble of you.” Burndee grunted, shoving him back down into the hay. “But you can calm down; we’re trying to help her. And if we would stop getting interrupted . . .”

  Rebuked, Raoul coughed.

  “You might as well know that Poppy is actually Princess Penelope,” Colin said matter-of-factly.

  Poppy gasped and looked at him reproachfully. “You told him!”

  “We aren’t under oath,” Burndee retorted.

  “A-a-a princess?” Raoul stammered, his eyes growing to the size of birds’ eggs. “Your Highness!” He veered immediately into boot-licking melodrama as he dropped to one knee with a loud thump. “Ow. I had no idea you were royalty, believe me. How honored I am that you have joined our troupe . . .” His voice faded away as he grew more and more bewildered, and he looked around at all three of them. “I say . . . what is happening here?”

  Colin gestured towards the corner with a courtly flick of his paw. “Pull up some hay and listen.”

  “Wait a minute,” Burndee interrupted. “How do we know you weren’t involved with Poppy’s kidnapping?”

  “K-kidnapping?” Raoul stammered. “Me?”

  Colin waved a dismissive claw. “Oh, Burndee, you can tell the man’s innocent.”

  “Please hearken to the—the . . . furry beast, milord. I’m innocent!”

  Poppy rushed to Raoul’s defense. “Raoul and his troupe have never done anything to hurt me. They’ve been very kind to me.”

  “It could be a trick,” Burndee cautioned her, feeling just a trifle guilty for causing her to doubt her new friends, but also determined to investigate every suspicious possibility. The poor girl had endured enough without being fooled again by a dandified magician and his pack of peculiars.

  “Thank you, my dear,” Raoul said with a gallant bow. “I mean, princess. I swear to you, sirs, that I knew nothing of this young maiden’s true identity. When a dwarf and his ward showed up asking for work, I merely gave them a trial period in my troupe—I had no idea Poppy—Penelope—she—Her Highness . . . was royal!”

  “Well, Burndee?” Colin asked raising an eyebrow. “Poppy’s told us the truth so far.”

  “He could be involved in some way that Poppy doesn’t know about,” Burndee argued.

  “Involved?” Raoul squalled. “I’ve never been so—”

  “Do you want to go back in the horse stall again?” Burndee threatened.

  Raoul appeared to shrink deeper into his doublet.

  “Go on with your story, Poppy,” Colin ordered. “I believe that Raoul is telling the truth. If not, it doesn’t make much difference now that we have him in our power. We can deal with him later, if necessary.”

  Raoul turned pale.

  Burndee glowered his suspicion, but acquiesced as he turned his attention back to Poppy. “How on earth did you end up conducting singing geese for this third-rate circus?”

  “Now hold on—” Raoul began, but Burndee cut him off with a look.

  “But the oath,” Poppy began, distressed. “He’s human.”

  “Forget about the blasted oath!” Burndee shouted. “Just think of him as a bug and finish!”

  Raoul settled for an offended look but didn’t dare open his mouth.

  Poppy, however, couldn’t spill the words out fast enough as she cringed away from Burndee. “Bandits. We were set upon by bandits. We were pa
ssing through the Mistmere Forest when they came at us out of the trees. Most of my father’s guards”—she paused for a moment, and swallowed—“joined in the attack. Lucinda must have bribed them to betray me. My chief guard ordered me to run, and I did, but Lucinda lured me into a trap, and I was captured . . . after all my guards did to try to save me.” Her voice shook. “Using me as a hostage, Lucinda forced my guards to surrender. The bandits took them into the forest and left me with Lucinda and Conrad and the guards that had turned against me. It was then that Lucinda told me that she had met Conrad a month ago and promised him wealth and position if he would hire bandits to organize an attack on my entourage.

  “Lucinda forced me to change clothes with her and made me swear an oath to never tell another person what had happened. To make sure I didn’t break my oath she took Meck away from me and said . . . she’d kill him—torture him first—if I caused any trouble.”

  Colin slipped a paw quietly into Poppy’s hand.

  Silent tears slipped down her cheeks and crawled into her tousled braid. She didn’t bother to wipe them away. “And don’t say he’s just an animal,” she said with sudden fierceness. “He’s not; he understands just like you do, and h-he’s the only friend I’ve ever had. The only one that ever really cared about me.” She gulped. “But . . . I might have been able to sacrifice Meck if he were the only one in danger. He wouldn’t want me to lose my throne. But my guards . . . They’re still being held captive. Lucinda will send an order to have them killed if I don’t cooperate.” Poppy wiped her eyes. “I’ve never been responsible for any of my subjects before now. I can’t betray them. No matter what you tell me to do, I won’t let them be killed for my sake!”

  Burndee turned away to try to get some distance between the tears and himself, scuffing at the floor with his boot as he cleared his throat.

  “My poor lady, how cruelly you’ve suffered!” Raoul cried in sympathy.

  “But how did you fall in with the troupe?” Colin asked kindly but inexorably. “Why didn’t Lucinda keep you where she could keep an eye on you?”

 

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