If it was code for anything, it was code for, “I find you repulsive.”
McManlyman knew he shouldn’t be so surprised. He had known from their first conversation that she was a goody-goody doctor with a bit too strict an observance of the Hippocratic Oath. And then only a few days after she had unwillingly joined his pirate crew as a doctor, McManlyman had also learned, through reading between the lines in their conversations, that Jane was also one of those revolutionaries he’d been hearing about more and more in recent years. As things deteriorated in Fritillary, more and more citizens were apparently thinking about shaking up the status quo. They wanted big changes. Some wanted war, some wanted peaceful resistance, but all wanted the monarchy to fall. Jane was one of the peaceful types.
McManlyman sighed and stood, then moseyed over to his door and threw it open to drink in the sight of the dark clouds and the steely, rolling sea, which suited his mood to a T. It thoroughly depressed him to find that he was in love with someone with such intense moral convictions, since he himself really was the thieving, mercenary meanie she accused him of being and he really didn’t want to change; intense moral convictions were exhausting and rarely made people wealthy. But on the other hand, one thing he really did want was to have his reckless, bloodthirsty, bruised, and battered heart mended by the love of a good woman. That’d be pretty awesome, the love of a good woman.
He studied the steely, gray waves a few moments more, then hollered, “Biggby!” at his first mate who was scampering industriously about the deck, making sure the pirates were all doing their jobs.
Biggby halted and looked up at him.
McManlyman gestured him over and then stalked back to his desk, leaving the door to his quarters open.
Biggby strode in a few seconds later, shut the door behind him, stood before McManlyman’s desk, and asked, “Yes, Captain?”
“Have a seat, man,” McManlyman gestured at a spindly, wooden chair beside the first mate.
Biggby sat down, hesitantly, with a glance over his shoulder. “There’s a lot of stuff that needs doing on deck, Captain.”
“It can wait,” McManlyman said with a wave of his hand. “I have a problem that needs working through. A problem of the heart.”
Biggby’s eyes widened. He’d figured the Captain had been off his game because of that lady doctor, but he had never expected the Captain to actually come out and admit it.
Then Captain Maximus McManlyman asked, “What do you think is the best way that we pirates could aid the revolutionaries in Fritillary?”
Warren had a splitting headache. It hurt so much that all he wanted to do was be unconscious again. But his consciousness was having none of that, so Warren gave in to his body’s desire to wake up. Grudgingly, he attempted to open his eyes. His surroundings were blurry and bright, he was warm, and he was lying on something soft and comfortable.
And that didn’t seem right…he had been somewhere else…what had been going on? His thoughts were jumbled from the abuse his cranium had sustained, so it took him a few moments, but then it all came rushing back. He sat bolt upright and yelled frantically, “Corrine!”
The quick movement, the yell, and the acute stress were too much for him in his fragile state. He passed out again. But only for a few seconds—just enough time for Julianna to hear, come running, and be at his side once he woke up again.
She had been in her library with her parents having an epic argument. She was very glad to hear his yell, because it gave her a legitimate excuse to take a break from all the yelling with her parents. She pleaded with them not to follow, because the last thing a concussed patient needed was to be surrounded by loud arguing. They had readily agreed, because her absence would give them time to strategize and strive to present a united front once she returned.
Julianna ran into her bedroom, and stood at the foot of her bed, looking apprehensively at Warren. “You awake?” she whispered.
He moaned and opened his eyes a bit. “Blarggg.”
Julianna waited expectantly a few moments more but got no further response.
She was tiptoeing out again to find Delia and tell her to get the doctor, but then Warren said, “Corrine?”
She went back to the foot of the bed. “No, it’s Julianna.”
“Where’s Corrine?” His words were slightly jumbled, and his eyes were shut tight against the light.
She hesitated, “Maybe we could talk about that a little later?”
He may have been pretty out of it, but he was at least aware enough to know that a response like that could not mean anything good. If Corrine was okay, Julianna would have said, “Hold tight while I get her!” or something to that effect. “Where is she?” he repeated through teeth gritted in pain and stress.
“I’d rather not—”
“Where is she?!” he yelled, then took a few calming breaths, because that yell had been super painful. He needed to remain calm if he wanted to remain conscious.
“Here’s the thing…” Julianna stalled, “Hey wait, are you hungry? Thirsty? You look thirsty. Let me just go and…”
He gave a pathetic sort of moaning growl but said nothing.
She sighed. Of course he was not going to be sidetracked until he knew where Corrine was. “Okay. Farland sort of, um, kind of…took her.”
“What? No.” Thankfully for his head, the truth was so dreadful that part of him didn’t want to believe it. So the shock of it didn’t hit him all at once.
“Yes,” she answered. “And let me add before we go any further with this conversation that Farland sent us a message saying that she is alive. Said he’d be in touch about ransom.”
He just blinked and stared at the ceiling, processing the horrible information and trying not to pass out.
“We sent some soldiers to his apartment, of course, to check things out. But no one was there,” Julianna said.
“The raven blood,” Warren muttered, “Where’s my vial of raven blood? It might have some information for me.”
“Your clothes are being washed right now. I can have someone check the pockets.”
“What am I wearing now?” he asked.
“Something from the hospital ward, I’d guess. You’re under some blankets right now, so I can’t see,” she answered. “I’ll have Delia go see about your raven blood. Unless the vial was in your sister’s bag? Because I picked that up.”
“No, the vial was in my pocket.”
“I’ll have someone go check on it then. Try to get some rest.” She rushed out of the room and bumped right into her parents, who had been standing just outside the door, snooping. “Hey!” Julianna exclaimed. “What are you doing? Were you eavesdropping?”
“Who is this Corrine?” asked Lillian suspiciously. While Warren had been unconscious, Julianna had told her parents what Farland had said about Warren being a counter-curse for the spell. Lillian was consequently very annoyed to hear that the boy who might free her daughter from her curse was talking agitatedly about another woman.
“She’s his sister, mom,” Julianna sighed, still mad at her mom about the fight. The whole reason for their fight had been that her parents had told her about the particulars of the counter-curse. Julianna had become enraged that they had never told her before that there was hope of her curse being lifted.
Julianna was also infuriated that, almost as soon as Lillian had heard the news, she had sent for the Royal Wedding Planner. Her parents had explained all the criteria of the counter-curse, and Julianna understood that Warren was an exact match, but she thought sending for the Royal Wedding Planner was a bit premature. Because she had no feelings for Warren. At least, no romantic feelings. And she was pretty sure that it wasn’t just because her crush on Mortimer Perkins, the dreamy miner and union organizer, was clouding her vision. Also, she was fairly certain that Warren was not harboring any romantic feelings toward her, either. H
eck, 24 hours earlier, they hadn’t even known each other.
Lillian’s ecstatic chatter about planning a quick little sickbed ceremony that could be carried out as soon as Warren was lucid enough to say “I do” was causing Julianna no end of stress.
Julianna wanted some time to think about things. And, of course, some time to talk to Warren about it. But Lillian wanted to get them married, and pronto, because she was convinced that it was the marriage ceremony itself that would break the spell. Julianna thought it was insane that Lillian had started to plan a wedding ceremony for them while the groom-to-be was still suffering a concussion and had no idea what was going on, but Lillian just steamrolled on. There was no use trying to win an argument with a queen.
“You’re sure this Corrine is his sister?” Lillian asked with a frown.
“Why on earth would they lie about that?” Julianna swept past her parents. She found Delia and sent her on a mission to find the vial of raven blood. It was a mark of how good she was at following orders that Delia didn’t question the request.
Then Julianna turned to face her parents again, addressing her dad since, through the whole fight, he had remained pretty quiet, only speaking up when Lillian directly addressed him and asked him to agree with her. “Dad, this is crazy. We need some time. You can’t make me marry him.”
Conroy sighed and looked at his wife nervously. “My love, what’s the rush?”
Lillian stared at him in disbelief. “What’s the rush? What do you mean? Your daughter’s curse is going to be lifted!”
“We don’t know that for sure, dear. I don’t recall the particular words Farland used when he was telling me about the curse all those years ago, but I believe I remember him saying that, in addition to all the other criteria the boy must meet, the two must love each other.” He took a deep breath and braced himself, “Marriage doesn’t necessarily equal love, my love.” He took advantage of Lillian’s stunned silence and added, “How about this: let’s just put it off until after Conroy Jr.’s hunting party. All the lords and ladies from out-of-town will have packed for hunting, anyway, not a wedding. We need to give them time to prepare for a royal wedding—get the right clothes, the right presents. Things like that.”
Julianna stared at her father. He was actually defending her against his wife and showing some capacity for logic25.
Lillian relented. “Well I suppose we could put it off for a bit. It would be nice if the wedding wasn’t happening at the same time as the hunt…That way the kids’ special days won’t overshadow each other...”
Julianna gritted her teeth. Special day? Bah! But she remained silent. At least it looked as though she wasn’t going to be forced immediately into a rushed wedding to a semi-conscious Warren.
“That’s the spirit, darling,” Conroy said. “We don’t want to rush things. A royal wedding should be fancy!”
“Yes, a royal wedding should be fancy!” Lillian agreed. “Yes. We’ll just use this extra time to pull together the fanciest darned wedding this city has ever seen!”
Julianna collapsed onto a couch and put her head in her hands. Her ghost friends settled beside her, murmuring reassuring things to her, but she barely heard, so preoccupied was she with the thought that her life was over.
“And what do you propose I do with her?” Mirabella asked Farland irately, looking at Corrine with icy annoyance. “I have things to do. I can’t babysit this girl.”
Corrine was lying awkwardly on the floor of Mirabella’s cave in the Forest of Looming Death. She was still paralyzed from Farland’s spell and, when they’d materialized in the cave, Farland had not thought to make her comfortable.
“I’m really sorry, Mirabella,” Farland said. “I don’t know where else to bring her. My place isn’t an option, I don’t trust my city friends, and I can’t just leave her somewhere in the Forest, because the wild animals might get her. I need her alive.”
Mirabella gave a martyred sigh and muttered, “All right. Tie her up and put her out of the way somewhere. It’s good you’ve come, because there are some things we need to discuss.”
Farland dragged Corrine back to the cave and tied her up, which was a relief to Corrine because, if he was tying her up, it meant that this paralysis thing was only temporary.
Corrine watched as Farland walked to the front of the cave and joined Mirabella. “So? Is there trouble with the plan?”
“The only thing that isn’t in place is the bait. I can’t figure out how to draw him into the trap.”
“Are you talking about my brother?” Corrine yelled from across the cave.
Farland looked back at her with eyes narrowed. “No, this is something else. Mind your own business.”
“What other evil stuff are you in the middle of?” Corrine asked incredulously. “You really have something else on the backburner in addition to trying to kill my little brother?”
Farland gave a derisive laugh. “You think your brother is on the front burner on the stovetop of my evil kitchen? Ha! The plan with your brother is a mere side dish that has been left to warm in the oven, while the burners are occupied with more important matters. Main course matters.” At this point, he ditched the stove metaphor since it was falling apart, “There are plans set in place for this kingdom that your puny mind cannot comprehend.”
* * *
25His motives for postponing the wedding were actually not at all to do with the question of love, or of the risk of inconveniencing party guests. His motives were altogether different, but he couldn’t tell them about it. Suffice to say that Conroy did not want this wedding to proceed. Not at all.
Chapter Twenty-five
The magical vial of raven blood was on the floor of the castle laundry room, feeling absolutely rotten. Alone, confused, and worried about Warren.
A few hours earlier, the magical vial of raven blood had thought everything had been going swimmingly. Warren, Corrine, and the Princess had been on their way to the castle, where they would be safe from the threat posed by Farland. They’d been almost to the castle gates. Then, the world had been turned upside down as a flurry of shouts and screams filled the night. Warren had suddenly fallen like a rock and squelched into the filth of the city street, landing on top of the vial and thus muffling all sound to the point where the magical vial of raven blood could barely hear a thing.
All it knew for sure was that it had heard the Princess yell, “The wizard! Shoot the wizard!” And, of course, that had to mean Farland, because what other wizard would she be shouting about?
For a few more moments, it had been just more muffled voices as a worryingly-still Warren laid on top of the vial. Then, Warren’s body had been jerked suddenly upward, and the magical vial of raven blood had been able to hear clearly again. The Princess hollered, “Get him to the doctor! As fast as possible! Go!”
Bro? the magical vial of raven blood had asked worriedly. Hey, bro?
No answer.
The jostling of Warren’s body as the soldiers ran him up to the castle had been near enough to shake the vial out of Warren’s pocket, but to the vial’s relief, it made it all the way to the presumable hospital wing without falling out. The vial was just doing a glass container of blood’s equivalent of a sigh of relief, when it heard a voice say, “Get those putrid garments off him and get him into a hospital gown. Stat!” Stat. Must be a doctor.
There had been some more jostling about, and the magical vial of raven blood had found itself in a laundry basket in the folds of Warren’s filth-caked clothing.
“Get that to the laundry room!” barked the doctor.
Dude! Warren! the magical vial of raven blood had squawked anxiously as the basket had been picked up. Dude! Wake up! Wake up and get me out of here!
But it had been no use. The magical vial of raven blood had been whisked away from its unconscious friend and out of the hospital wing. Then down into the l
abyrinth of hallways that snaked through the servants’ wing.
To the laundry room.
The magical vial of raven blood had done a glass container of blood’s equivalent of quaking in fear as it had imagined what would likely be its fate: Warren’s pants would be shaken about, and the vial would fly from the pocket and be dashed to bloody pieces on the floor. It would seep into the grout or dirt or whatever and be stuck listening to the prattle of washerwomen for the rest of its days.
But luck, it turned out, had been on the magical vial of raven blood’s side. The pants had indeed been removed from the laundry basket and shaken about, but when the vial had flown from the pocket it had, mercifully, fallen not onto the brick floor, but instead onto a pile of blankets. Next, the momentum had sent it rolling off the blankets and into a dark corner.
Which was where the magical vial of raven blood was now, fretting about Warren and feeling utterly helpless and desolate.
She knew it was cowardly of her, but Julianna did not at first tell Warren about their impending nuptials. She did, however, inform him that the vial of raven blood had gone missing.
“It probably fell out of your pocket in the street after the guard smacked you on the head,” she commented. With every word, she felt guilty, knowing that she should be telling him instead that he was about to become a prince.
He cursed and then said, “Hey, could you get someone to get more at Farland’s apartment?”
“Good idea,” she said and set off to make it happen.
She then avoided him as long as possible.
First, she pretended to read, then she picked at some food, then she did some embroidery and a few scales on her clarinet. But after a while she sighed, owned up to the fact that her guilt was going nowhere, set aside the clarinet, and steeled herself for an unpleasant conversation.
Julianna walked into her room to see Warren propped up against a pile of fluffy pillows with a tray of food on his lap. “Ah, I see you’re up,” she said. She’d been hoping he would be sleeping so she could put off all talk of marriage and of his missing sister until later. She was emotionally exhausted and not in the mood for such weighty topics. But ignoring the conversation was exhausting too, so she figured if she was going to be stressed either way she’d might as well just get on with it.
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