She ran straight into the main hall without thinking, and saw that there was no guard on the front doors. They probably didn’t think that anyone would try to walk out the front doors of the Castle, under the eyes of anyone coming or going from the throne room.
Of course, there was also the enormous bar, carved from a two-hundred-year-old oak, that had been lowered into its brackets to keep the doors securely closed.
But Celie knew the Castle better than anyone.
As she passed the bust of King Glower the First, she slapped the back of His Majesty’s head with one hand. The bust and the pedestal it stood on rocked forward and then stopped in midfall, revealing a mechanism beneath the edge of the pedestal. The mechanism triggered machinery in the floor that raised the bar across the doors.
Tucking the crown under one arm, Celie hit the right-side door with her shoulder, and it swung open on well-greased hinges, hardly checking her flight as she raced out into the sunlight of the courtyard. There were more Vhervhish soldiers there, and the portcullis was down, the drawbridge up.
If she could make it to the stables, she could take one of the tunnels under the moat … or the barracks. She’d gotten so many maids and laundresses out safely, she couldn’t believe that she would have any difficulty getting away.
“Seize her!” the Emissary screamed, and the men in the courtyard all drew their weapons.
All at once there were too many armed men between her and the stables, which were next to the barracks. She changed direction and ran for the nearest stairs. They only led to the guard tower, and the walkway along the top of the wall, but it would buy her time. She could hear Khelsh’s labored breathing behind her, and knew that the stairs would slow him down.
She took them two at a time, thanking her good fortune that her gown had narrow skirts and was a good inch too short. She tucked the crown into the front of her sash and hiked her skirts up high all the same. When she reached the top of the stairs, a guard was peering out of the nearest tower, so she whipped around and ran along the top of the wall in the direction of the Balcony.
The Balcony was really the flat roof of the Sergeant’s Tower, which protruded over the moat, and was large enough that she would be able to move around a bit. When she reached it, she flung herself against one of the tall stone crenellations to catch her breath. Khelsh was coming, but none of the soldiers were near enough to cause a problem yet.
Then she heard a roar of voices, several of them calling her name, coming from outside the Castle. She looked down at the army camped on the other side of the moat. She was directly across from the largest tent, the one bearing the flag of Sleyne. There was a knot of people standing in front of the tent, staring up at her with white faces. She recognized the wet black gown and long, dripping hair of her sister.
She decided that the crown took precedence. “Lilah!” She pulled it out of her sash. “I’ve got the crown!”
“Celie!”
Celie froze.
“Daddy?” She leaned farther over the stones to see her parents standing there, hands pressed to their mouths in fear. “Mummy!”
“Celie, jump!”
That came from Pogue Parry, standing beside a tall figure who could only be her brother Bran, all grown up and wearing blue wizard’s robes. Pogue waved his arms to get her attention.
“Jump into the moat! It’s deepest right there!” He pointed just past the balcony.
Celie had no time to decide whether or not she should jump, because Khelsh and the Emissary had reached the balcony.
“Give us the crown, girl,” the Emissary said. “Give it to us now.”
“No!” Celie held it out over the moat. “I’ll drop it if you come any closer! But it doesn’t matter anyway: you’re surrounded by three armies!”
The Emissary opened his mouth to retort, but Khelsh lunged for her. Celie flung the crown as far and as hard as she could. His huge body knocked the breath out of her and sent her crashing against the wall as he tried to snatch the crown from the air. As Celie slid to the ground, she heard a distant splash as the crown hit the water.
“No!” Khelsh pounded his fists on the stones.
“Ha,” Celie said. Then she tried to crawl away from him.
He didn’t seem to notice, but the Emissary did. “I don’t think so,” the traitorous Councilor said. He reached down and grabbed Celie’s arm, pulling her to her feet. “You’ve caused far too many problems with your little secret doors and your childish pranks. For once you’re going to do something useful.”
He dragged her over to the edge of the balcony and wrapped one arm around her, pinning her arms to her sides. He lifted her up so that she was standing on the parapet, and there was a roar from the army below.
Khelsh was no fool: he caught on to his coconspirator’s plan at once.
“Leave now, or princess dies,” he shouted.
“No!” Celie struggled against the Emissary, but the sight of the moat so far below was making her queasy. “He won’t do it!” she shouted.
“Oh, I will,” the Emissary said quietly. “Just try me.”
“Surrender!” Khelsh spat over the side into the moat. “I kill your Castle, I kill the princess. Surrender to me. I am king!”
“The Castle isn’t dead!” Celie could just touch the fingers of her right hand to the top of the nearest crenellation. She gripped it now as best she could with her fingertips. The stone was so cold. “You’re still alive,” she whispered to the Castle. “I know it.”
There … what was that? Was that warmth beneath her hand? Was it just because she was touching the stone, or was the Castle trying to wake up?
She drew a deep breath. “Long live King Glower the Seventy-ninth! Long live Castle Glower!” she shouted as loudly as she could, then she snapped her head back and felt the Emissary’s nose crunch from the blow.
“Aaargh!” The Emissary dropped her to clutch at his face, nose streaming blood, and Celie landed hard on her knees on the edge of the wall.
She put her hands out to each side to steady herself. Again she thought she felt a tremor pass through the stone, but it might have just been from the way she was shaking. Then she jumped backward onto safer footing and ran, but Khelsh was ready for her. He caught her just as she reached the side of the Balcony that overlooked the courtyard. He spun her around, and it was then that she saw the knife in his other hand. Celie brought her knee straight up, as hard as she could.
“That’s for me, and Lilah, and Ro—” But her triumphant shout ended in a shriek as the prince, despite being doubled over in pain, lashed out with the knife.
They both looked in surprise at the blood that was spreading across her sleeve.
Clutching the wound, Celie spun around and ran down the walkway. The Vhervhish guards were no longer milling about uncertainly: one had come up to block the staircase. There were two more in the tower beyond.
Celie was trapped. She rested her wounded arm on the parapet, and felt the stone grow warm beneath her hand. Her heart gave a little flutter.
“A good fight,” Khelsh conceded, though his voice still sounded strained. He did manage to come toward her without limping. “But now is over. No more silliness.” With the knife, he beckoned for her to come toward him.
Celie didn’t think she could run anymore. Or hide. She had nowhere else to go, and she didn’t want to be the reason why her family lost the Castle. Her legs were shaking, and a single drop of blood fell onto the gray stones of the Castle.
She turned and stepped into the nearest crenellation. She swayed a little, and put out both hands to brace herself. Across the moat she saw her family, and her friends. Lulath was there, and Pogue. She even saw Cook, armed with a large cleaver.
“Jump!” Bran waved his arms to get her attention. “Jump into the moat!”
Celie nodded, not sure if he could tell. Her throat was so dry, she didn’t think she could shout anymore. She didn’t have the strength to jump, either. Inside her bodice, Rufus was making he
r uncomfortably hot and sweaty. She pulled him out and tucked him under her arm.
“Oh! Your doll, baby?” Khelsh made horrible fake baby crying noises, coming forward a few more paces.
Celie turned away from him, getting ready to jump, and Rufus fell to the ground. She bent down to pick him up, but before she could, the stones under her feet rippled, and Rufus changed.
A lion, a winged lion—a griffin, like the one on the flag—stood between her and Khelsh now. Khelsh dropped his knife in terror. Celie stepped backward toward the courtyard stairs as the griffin lunged at Khelsh. She stepped back farther, and suddenly there was nothing beneath her feet. One of Khelsh’s guards snatched at her, snagging the skirt of her gown, but he was too late.
Princess Celie plummeted to the courtyard below.
Chapter
25
I knew the Castle loved you best,” Rolf said gently into Celie’s ear.
His breath blew hair into her ear, and it tickled. She tried to brush him away, but someone was holding her arms down. She tried to open her eyes and look, but there was a cool, wet cloth over her eyes. She could hear a great many voices, and the clatter of men walking in armor, and other footsteps in heavy boots.
“Just rest, my darling,” said her mother.
“We’ll need you to stand back, Your Majesty,” Pogue said politely.
“Are you sure you’ve got her?” Her mother’s voice was anxious.
“She weighs about as much as a newborn foal,” Pogue said.
“As light as the plume of a cap,” said Prince Lulath, and then Celie felt herself rising into the air.
Pogue and Lulath carried her from the brightness into a dim coolness that was just as loud with footsteps and voices. A great feeling of warmth and love enveloped Celie, and she knew that they were in the main hall.
And the Castle had come back to life.
“I missed you,” she murmured.
“That’s why I came back,” Pogue said in a teasing voice.
“Are you flirting with another of my sisters?” Rolf sounded aggrieved. “Is no woman safe from you?”
“Boys, stop that,” the queen said indulgently. “Ah! There’s her room, just there.”
“I’m surprised the Castle didn’t put it right in the main hall,” Pogue remarked as they turned into a room whose familiar smells greeted Celie like an old friend. “Have you got her, Bran?”
Strong arms lifted her from the litter and placed her on her own bed.
“What happened?” Celie finally had the strength to ask as she snuggled down into the pillows. Her right arm twinged, and strong hands gently took hold of it again.
“Here, put it on this.” Bran nested her arm in a pillow.
“The Castle caught you,” Rolf said, and the edge of the bed sank down as he sat on it. “No one has ever seen anything like it. The stones seemed to go soft under you, and you were lying there like an empress in a bed of silk when we reached you.”
“What about Khelsh?” Celie struggled to sit up, knocking the compress aside with her good hand, but Bran pushed her back down. She smiled up at her brother. His face was thinner than when last she’d seen him, and he had a freshly healed scar above his left eyebrow.
“Khelsh,” Rolf began, but their mother hissed at him.
“Carried off by that griffin, wherever it came from,” Pogue said. When the queen gave him a look, he shrugged. “She would find out eventually, Your Majesty,” he said. “It snatched him up, and then it just … disappeared.”
“Oh,” was all Celie could think to say. So Khelsh was dead, or as good as. She looked up at her mother and Bran again. “Where have you been?” Tears trickled out of her eyes.
The queen sat on the other side of the bed and put her arms around Celie. “I’m so sorry, my darling. Your father and Bran were badly hurt, and I didn’t know whom we could trust. Bran managed to use magic to protect us during the ambush, and we made our way to a little shepherd’s cottage. That good man and his wife hid us until your father had recovered. Pogue found us just as we had decided to risk coming home. There were assassins still looking for us; we were attacked again on our way here, but fortunately Sergeant Avery’s men were able to dispatch them.”
“The worst part has been convincing Father not to declare war on Vhervhine,” Bran said with a crooked smile. “We ran into King Kharth and his men, and Father was certain that the story of Khelsh being exiled was all a ruse. It took days of talk for us all to get to trusting one another.”
“Khelsh would have much loved big war between Sleyne and Vhervhine,” Lulath said, shaking his head. “And Grath, too. It has been no harvest festival, this week.”
“I don’t know about a party,” King Glower said, coming into the room. “But what about a celebratory feast?”
“Daddy!” Celie held out her arms to him, and he limped to her bed and embraced her.
“My Celia-delia,” he said fondly. “Thank you for protecting the Castle, and your brother and sister, for me.”
“Excuse me?” Rolf looked affronted. “I think I did a rather good job at being a king!”
“And I’m not sure if what Celie did was brave or foolish,” said Lilah, who had followed their father into the room. “Jumping off the battlements! Calling up a griffin from who-knows-where!” But she couldn’t keep the smile off her face.
“You are very bravest of the girls,” Lulath said.
“No, I’m tired,” Celie said.
Everyone laughed, and Celie blushed, feeling childish, but she couldn’t find the strength to do much else. The queen herded everyone out, after they had all stooped to kiss Celie’s cheek, including Lulath, and to her further embarrassment, Pogue. Last of all her parents kissed her, and then left her to sleep.
But Celie wasn’t alone.
“I really have missed you,” she murmured sleepily to the Castle.
The curtains over her windows closed, and Castle Glower painted the ceiling of her room dark like the night sky, twinkling with thousands of gemlike stars.
Acknowledgments
From that sudden lightning flash of “Hey, magic castle!” that strikes late at night to seeing your book on a bookstore or library shelf, a lot of people have to pitch in. My family and friends are always there to cheer me on, and I love them so much for that (and so much more). We are also very lucky to live on the same block as two of the world’s best babysitters. Thank you, Miranda and Ethan, for playing Indiana Jones and Slidebaby for endless hours while I wrote. And while the children were thus engaged, I was at my local library, which is happily full of very nice chairs, very nice books, and even nicer librarians!
Thanks are also due to my dear patient agent and friend, Amy Jameson, who doesn’t cry with frustration (even though I’m convinced she secretly wants to) when I call her up to tell her about a brand-new book … even though I haven’t finished the book I’m supposed to be working on.
And thanks, so many thanks, go to Melanie Cecka, who said a resounding “Yes!” to me after so many editors had said “No!” This book is lovingly dedicated to her, for that “Yes!” and for knowing that I had a book like this in me.
Also by Jessica Day George
Dragon Slippers
Dragon Flight
Dragon Spear
Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow
Princess of the Midnight Ball
Princess of Glass
Copyright © 2011 by Jessica Day George
All rights reserved. You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages
First published in the United States of America in October 2011 by Bloomsbury Books for Young Readers
Electronic edition published in October 2011
www.bloomsburykids.com
For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to Permissions, Bloomsbury BFYR, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10010
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
George, Jessica Day.
Tuesdays at the castle / by Jessica Day George.—1st U.S. ed.
p. cm.
Summary: Eleven-year-old Princess Celie lives with her parents, the king and queen, and her brothers and sister at Castle Glower, which adds rooms or stairways or secret passageways most every Tuesday, and when the king and queen are ambushed while travelling, it is up to Celie—the castle’s favorite—with her secret knowledge of its never-ending twists and turns, to protect their home and save their kingdom.
ISBN 978-1-59990-731-4 (ebook)
[1. Fairy tales. 2. Castles—Fiction. 3. Princesses—Fiction. 4. Kings, queens, rulers, etc.—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ8.G3295Tu2011 [Fic]—dc23 2011016739
Tuesdays at the Castle Page 16
