Tuesdays at the Castle

by Jessica Day George

  “Sometimes. Not lately,” she said.

  He wrinkled his brow and nodded. “Yes, the parents. I am very much of sad for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I stay, because maybe you and the brother and the sister will need help,” he said eagerly. “I have many years my father helped, with the Grath ruling.”

  “That is very nice, and I’m sure you’re very good … at that,” Celie said.

  “I am not so good as you, at the talking with the Castle,” he said.

  Celie straightened, thrusting out her chin. Was he in league with Prince Khelsh? “No, of course not,” she said with as much confidence as she could muster. “The Castle does favor me.” She stroked a hand on the stone wall of the corridor. “Me and Lilah and Rolf. The Castle picked Rolf, you know, to be the next king. It will be very angry if he isn’t.”

  “I understand,” Prince Lulath said. He shifted his dogs around so that he had a hand free, and touched the wall, too. “The Castle, if it likes you, must be the very great thing.”

  “Yes, and very powerful,” Celie said pointedly.

  “That is the true,” Prince Lulath said. “I have already the thanks given, that the rooms we stay in have been nice and more nice.”

  “Nice and more nice?” Celie stopped in the process of sidling away, hooked by what he said.

  “Yes,” Prince Lulath said. “They were nice when we come up here last week,” he added hastily. “But now that they are bigger and … softer … they are the more nice. And here is the thanks to you, if it was you who make it to be so.” He gave her a bow.

  “You … you’re welcome,” Celie said. She bobbed her head. “I really must go. I have to help Lilah.”

  “You will thank her, also?”

  Prince Lulath’s head bobbed up and down, and he smiled in a way that was … anxious, she realized. He certainly didn’t look like an assassin, standing there in his yellow tunic holding those ridiculously small dogs.

  “Yes,” Celie said. “Good-bye!” And she clattered down the winding stairs to the storage rooms.

  By the time she found Lilah and the housekeeper, her head was so awhirl that she didn’t know what to say. They looked at her quizzically as she stood in the doorway, panting (there were a lot of stairs down, and a very long corridor, before one reached the storerooms, which were probably dungeons in other castles).

  “Well, what is it, Celie?” Lilah rubbed a smudge of dust off her hand.

  “Have you seen Prince Lulath’s rooms?” was the first thing out of her mouth, and she silently cursed herself. Rolf! She wanted to warn Lilah about Rolf being in danger!

  “Of course not!” Lilah blushed, and gave Ma’am Housekeeper an embarrassed look.

  “He said his rooms are nicer now than when he first came,” Celie said. It occurred to her that she probably shouldn’t blurt out the Vhervhish plot in front of the servants.

  “Are they?” Lilah was looking over some casks of pickles. “And you came all the way down to tell me that? He has dozens of servants, Celie, they probably brought their own furnishings.”

  “Yes, but that wasn’t the only reason why I came.” She darted her eyes to Ma’am Housekeeper and then made a face at Lilah.

  Celie trusted the brusque and efficient woman, and knew that she would never intentionally harm Rolf or any of their family. But there was always gossip, which spread like hot honey among the housekeeping staff. And if Prince Khelsh found out that they suspected him, would it chase him away, or would it make him act more quickly?

  “Well, what is it?” Lilah rubbed at another smudge.

  “I—I need to talk to you. Um, alone.” She gave Ma’am Housekeeper an apologetic look.

  “It’s all right, Princess Delilah,” the older woman said pleasantly. “We’re nearly done, and there’s no need for you to stay down here in the dark all day. I’ll take care of the things we’ve talked about.”

  “All right,” Lilah said, but she was still frowning.

  “I’m sorry you’re always so busy,” Celie said as she and Lilah walked out of the storeroom together.

  “Someone has to be,” Lilah said with a little sigh. She summoned a smile for Celie. “Now, what is this all about? Why are you carrying all those books and things?”

  “Oh. Lilah!” Celie stopped in the middle of the long corridor. “Lilah, it’s awful! I was in the throne room, and Prince Khelsh came in with his ambassador, and they were yelling, and so I hid and wrote down what they said and I’m pretty sure they’re going to kill Rolf!” She ended in a sob.

  “What? Oh, Celie! That’s impossible! How did you even know what they were saying? Prince Khelsh barely speaks Sleynth.”

  Celie held out the Vhervhish phrase book. “This was in the Spyglass Tower,” she reminded her sister. “I wrote down the words they kept repeating, so that I could look them up. But they said ‘heir,’ like heir to the throne, and they said a word that means assassinate.” She hiccupped.

  Gravely, Lilah looked at the words Celie had scribbled on her spare paper, and then she looked in the book herself. In the guttering torchlight, her face went very pale.

  “We’d better go find Rolf,” she said. “And Sergeant Avery.”

  Chapter

  9

  But when they did find Rolf, he didn’t think there was anything to worry about.

  “The Vhervhish are always plotting to assassinate someone,” he said airily. “Me today, Lulath tomorrow, I’m sure.”

  “And Lulath is another problem,” Lilah said. “He said to Celie that his rooms are nicer than when he first came.”

  Celie gaped at Lilah. Only a few minutes before, her older sister had brushed aside Celie’s concerns about Lulath like they didn’t even matter.

  But before Celie could raise a fuss, Lilah gave her an apologetic look. “Now that I’ve had a minute to think about it, it does sound strange that Lulath’s rooms would be nicer. We should look into it. But we can’t very well barge into his rooms and demand to look around!” She turned to Rolf. “And how do we get Khelsh and all his men out of the Castle?”

  “That should certainly be our first task,” Rolf said.

  “Even if you’re not afraid of them trying to kill you?” Lilah’s face was flushed.

  Celie wasn’t sure if her sister was joking or not. She very much wanted Rolf to not be afraid, to assure her that everything was all right, and that none of them needed to be afraid of anything. But on the other hand, if Rolf wasn’t afraid, it might be very foolish of him. The Vhervhish were dangerous, especially Prince Khelsh, and Celie was absolutely certain that they would try to hurt Rolf before the week was out.

  “Girls,” Rolf said, putting an arm around each of them and steering them across the courtyard. “I promise to tell Sergeant Avery about all of this. If one of you isn’t with me, then a guard will be.”

  “No,” Lilah said, shaking off his arm and turning to go back to the guard room. “A guard should be with you all the time, even if Celie and I are there.”

  “Oh, all right,” Rolf agreed.

  Celie had been on the verge of asking him if he was afraid, since he hadn’t answered the question before. But she shut her mouth now. Rolf was afraid, she realized with a sinking heart. Otherwise he wouldn’t have turned around and followed Lilah back to the guard room.

  They found Sergeant Avery and arranged for a pair of men to shadow Rolf. He also offered to have his men guard Celie and Lilah, which Rolf immediately agreed to. But Celie and Lilah exchanged looks, neither of them wanting a guard at their heels. How was Celie to slip around the Castle as she always did, with some big man following her around? And Lilah, she knew, was fond of occasionally meeting with Pogue in private.

  Of course, Pogue was gone now. He had left the morning after the memorial ceremony, as promised. First he was going to question the shepherds who lived around the pass and find out if they had seen or heard anything. Then he was going on to the College of Wizardry, to find out if they had a wa
y to track Bran. Celie was sure that he would return with important news. They just didn’t know when that would be.

  “I wish Pogue were here,” Lilah said as they left the barracks.

  “I was just thinking that!” Celie took Lilah’s hand.

  Rolf threw up his hands. “What is it with him? I mean, he’s very good-looking, but really, both of you? And every girl in the village besides?”

  “Every girl in the village besides what?” Celie said.

  Lilah blushed. “Rolf! Pogue is trying to find out what happened to our brother and our parents,” she reminded him. “That is all that I meant, and Celie, too, I’m sure.”

  “What else would I mean?” Celie gave her brother a baffled look.

  “Oh, of course,” Rolf said, snickering. He tugged Celie’s hair. “One day, Cel, you’ll look at Pogue and think, ‘Never have I seen a finer specimen of young manhood!’ As every other girl who has ever seen him already thinks.”

  “Rolf,” Celie said, blushing herself as she realized what he was saying. “Are you talking about … kissing?”

  “Yes, dear, he is,” said Lilah. “But only because he thinks he’s being funny. And really: he isn’t.” She raised her eyebrows at Rolf.

  “If my jokes do not amuse you, ladies, then let me apologize,” Rolf said with a show of gallantry. He bowed effusively at them, walking backward.

  Celie saw Rolf’s eyes flick over their shoulders, and knew that their bodyguards were following them. Immediately, her back began to itch right between her shoulder blades, and she wanted to turn around. But she shouldn’t, she just knew. They were mounting the steps to the Castle’s main doors now, and she could see faces peering out of the windows at them. If any of those faces were Vhervhish, she didn’t want them to think that having a bodyguard was anything new and strange. Let them wonder how long the men had been shadowing the royal family. Let them see that trained fighters were always watching, waiting to leap into action to protect the Glower children.

  “We should go and have a few words with Prince Lulath,” said Rolf, leading them up the stairs. “Just a friendly chat. I mean, if his rooms are really that fine, it would be only polite to pop in, say hello, maybe have a little look around.” He looked at Celie and Lilah to see if they agreed.

  “Mother would want us to be hospitable,” Lilah replied, one corner of her mouth turning up.

  But they were just inside the main entrance hall when they were accosted by several of their father’s Councilors. Standing silently against the pale stones of the main hall in their long black robes, they looked like a copse of trees on a moonlit night. Celie had to repress a little scream when the foremost of them moved forward suddenly and began to speak.

  It was only Lord Feen, she reminded herself sternly. He had been the Speaker for the Council since before she was born … in fact, he had probably been the Speaker since before her father was born. His creased face was grim, but then again, it was always grim, so there was no need to assume that his news was dire.

  “We have something to discuss,” Lord Feen said in his quavering voice.

  “Ah, Lord Feen!” Rolf made as if to slap the old man on the back, then checked himself at the last moment and merely patted him gently on the shoulder. “My sisters and I were about to pay a visit to one of our foreign guests, and then I shall be at your disposal.”

  “You will be at our disposal now,” said the Emissary. “This is too urgent to wait upon a whim.” He looked at Celie and Lilah. “The princesses are not needed,” he sniffed.

  “I’m staying,” Celie and Lilah said together.

  “My sisters are needed for whatever I am needed for,” Rolf said. His voice was soft, but there was a hard edge in it that made the Emissary’s eyes flash with irritation. “Shall we then, my lords?” Rolf turned and walked through the carved doors that led to the throne room.

  There were three chairs in front of the dais where the throne sat. Rolf took the one in the middle, and Celie and Lilah sat on either side of him. The Councilors had to stand, but it wasn’t an insult: they always did. It made them feel tall, Rolf would joke.

  It made them feel more powerful, was Celie’s thought.

  The Council loomed above them now, and Celie wished that the Castle had provided taller chairs. She straightened her spine, and made sure to look Lord Feen directly in the eyes whenever he happened to glance her way. Which wasn’t often, because he really only wanted to speak to Rolf. Her brother was lounging in his own chair as though bored, though Celie could see the tension in his jaw and shoulders, and knew that it was all an act to make him appear older. And braver.

  It seemed to be working, Celie thought with admiration. Because Rolf didn’t turn pale or flinch at what the Council had to say. He listened to them, and nodded sagely, and made thoughtful noises without really saying anything in reply, just like their father did when he was listening to something he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear.

  Celie and Lilah, on the other hand, both flinched and turned pale, and Celie had to bite her lips to keep from shouting at Lord Feen. Lilah, with her hands clenched on the arms of her chair, looked like she was trying hard not to shout as well.

  Or cry.

  What the Council had to say was that they felt the evidence Sergeant Avery had brought was quite clear: King Glower the Seventy-ninth was dead, and so was his queen and his oldest son. There had been a service dedicated to their memory. Now it was time for King Glower the Eightieth to take the throne.

  Rolf. They wanted to crown Rolf as soon as possible.

  This had made Celie and Lilah both flinch. Celie wanted to shout at them that her parents weren’t dead: the Castle would have given them a sign if they were. But she had been trained not to interrupt during matters of state, or to contradict her elders, so she held her tongue. Then the rest of Lord Feen’s words came clattering out, making her go paler and paler, and wanting to shout less and less, and cry more and more.

  Because Lord Feen and the rest of the Council thought that the real reason Rolf was refusing the throne was because he felt incapable of ruling. The Council understood, Lord Feen kept saying, in a strange gentle voice that he probably also used with wary dogs and skittish horses. The Council would never leave Rolf to rule alone.

  “Meaning what, exactly?” Rolf narrowed his eyes at Lord Feen.

  “Meaning that we, your regents, will be there to guide you in every step you take, until you reach such an age that you can rule alone,” Lord Feen said.

  “A regency?” Lilah gasped. “But Father never would have—”

  “What father, what king, ever imagines he will leave his heir alone this young?” The Emissary stepped forward. “Naturally your father didn’t leave provision for a regency, because he never imagined that we would need one. But it’s clear that Prince Rolf’s tender age cannot support the burden of the crown.”

  “I see,” Rolf said. He stood up. “I thank you for your concern. The kingdom needs a strong ruler, it’s true, and my parents’… mishap … has been sudden and shocking. I am prepared to take the throne, and rule as King Glower the Eightieth. I have been prepared for this since I was five years old, and Castle Glower itself declared me my father’s true heir. If it is indeed the will of the Council that a king ascend the throne now, before we have discovered my parents’ final fate, then so be it. But no King Glower has ruled with a regency, and I do not intend to be the first!” Rolf pinned each of the Councilors with a hard look.

  Celie wanted to applaud. This was why Rolf had been chosen by the Castle. He was always ready with a laugh or a joke, always willing to have fun, but when matters were serious, Rolf knew the right thing to say, and how best to say it. Lilah’s cheeks were flushed, and she was looking at Rolf with admiration, too.

  The Council, however, was not.

  They were frowning, shaking their heads. A few of them were smiling, but in a way that said they thought Rolf was amusing. Like a much younger child. Or a dog that could do tricks.


  “That is all very well,” Lord Feen said. “But you are outvoted.”

  “Outvoted?” Rolf frowned at Lord Feen. “What on earth do you mean?”

  “The Council has put it to a vote, and agreed unanimously that a regency is required.”

  “But I am also a member of the Council,” Rolf said. “And I do not vote for a regency.”

  “Your disagreement on this matter is noted,” Lord Feen said. “However, the majority is still in favor of a regency.”

  “But if I am king—” Rolf began.

  “But you are not,” the Emissary said. “Not yet. And until that time, as the crown prince, you are subject to the Council, which has decided that we shall guide your reign until you reach a more mature age.”

  Rolf was silent for a long time. His face was very red, and then very pale. Celie could feel her own blood rushing through her body in a strange, irregular way, and knew that her cheeks mirrored Rolf’s: first red, then white, then red again.

  “Very well,” Rolf murmured. “If I may ask: When will I reach a more ‘mature age,’ as you put it?”

  “The Council has decided that ten years of ruling with our wise guidance should fit you for sole rulership,” the Emissary said with an oily smile. “Under our tutelage it is quite possible that you may become the greatest King Glower ever known!”

  “Ten years?” Celie’s throat was so dry that she could hardly whisper, and didn’t think anyone heard her. “Rolf won’t really be king until he’s …”

  “Twenty-four,” her brother finished. “You want me to rule with a regency until I’m twenty-four.” He plopped into his chair, holding out a hand to each of his sisters.

  Celie took the hand offered her, reaching across the space between their chairs. Something seemed different, and that was when she noticed that the stones beneath her chair were higher, making her just a little bit taller.

  Chapter

  10

  The coronation was to take place almost immediately. In fact, the Council had already planned the entire event, and had invited the guests from Grath and Vhervhine to stay until after it took place, which was why those princes and all their guards and servants had stayed on following the memorial. The Council had also sent invitations to other nations and to every noble in Sleyne as well.