Kendrick would understand why she was breaking his confidence, wouldn’t he? But if she told Tuck what she knew, would that put Tuck in danger?
“What, Avery? I’ve got to go…”
“Um, I wanted to ask how you knew I was in here?”
Tuck smiled sadly. “Someday you’ll accept that you’re never more than ten feet from a scout.”
“Still?”
“I’ve missed you,” he said.
“I’ve missed you, too,” she said as he left.
All Avery could think was that, now that no one was coming back from the Forbidden City “to make everything right,” her sentence at the castle should be over. With the heir out of the way, the kids should be free to leave.
But like a game of chess, each move by both sides became more complicated. Soon enough, someone would be checkmated. Avery ripped a blanket into strips, tightly wrapped her ankle, and settled in to wait for Babs.
Chapter 10
The King’s Wishes
Avery’s restless sleep ended the next morning because of bells clanging in the distance—hundreds of them, as if every chapel in the realm were sending the same signal.
She bolted up as the storage room door flew open and a line of surly men marched in, setting trunks and boxes and crates wherever they could find a spot.
Avery flattened herself on her fabric pallet, peeking through a crack in the book wall as the men filed in and out, in and out. What if they ran out of space? They stacked stuff higher and higher as her mind raced.
There was no way she could run without being seen, and she wasn’t sure her ankle could take it anyway.
One man came so close, Avery could have touched his boot. She was about to bolt when everything stilled and the door slammed.
She rolled onto her back and tried to steady her breathing.
And then came a knock. Avery peeked through her book wall and over the top of a stack of boxes and saw the door open.
“You in here?” Babs called. “I need to talk to you!”
She crawled out and stood between the towering stacks. “What is all this?”
“The queen is dead!” Babs said, eyes wide.
The queen? So what she’d heard through the grate was not about the king! “How?”
“Poisoned. And whoever did it was so skillful, no one noticed the symptoms until she was gone!”
So all this stuff was hers.
“She was carrying the king’s heir,” Avery said.
Babs shook his head. “The physicians say now that she was only ill. There never was any heir.”
Yes, there was, Avery wanted to tell him, but now Kendrick was gone, too.
“What happens now?” she asked.
“A service and burial, in accordance with the king’s wishes.”
Avery nodded. “What does this mean for us thirteen-year-olds? Aren’t we free to leave?”
“Don’t get any ideas. I wouldn’t leave this room. The castle is already crawling with dignitaries and spies in a frenzy. The guards are on high alert.” Babs turned to go then looked around the room. “Do women usually own this much?”
She shrugged. “Not where I come from.”
Avery waited until evening before venturing out. With so many important people in and out of the castle to pay their respects, it seemed a waste to stay in hiding. If the king followed protocol, the funeral and burial would happen in a matter of hours.
Avery limped upstairs to where she and Kate had watched the royal wedding. Now the slats overlooked where Angelina’s body lay in state.
Aside from black tapestries, the room looked similar to the day she had wed. The walnut floors were buffed to a shine. Enormous flower arrangements in elaborate pots stood sentinel throughout a sea of candles. The fragrance of sweet vanilla wafted up through the vents. The thirteen chandeliers cast a beautiful glow over the makeshift platform, and a ruby-red carpet cut a path for mourners.
Throngs of commoners in mourning colors filed by—some weeping loudly and others not uttering a sound. Some had gone to the trouble of blackening the soles of their shoes to demonstrate their utter grief.
Even lying in death, Angelina looked beautiful, her flame-red hair perfectly coiled, her gold and jeweled gown as magnificent as ever.
Avery heard a clatter and turned to see Tuck.
She smiled. He did not.
“Come with me,” he whispered.
Chapter 11
Elizabeth’s Song
Up the stairs they went—how many flights, Avery lost count—until Tuck stopped at a landing. “Know what’s on the other side of this door?”
She shook her head.
He pushed it open and motioned for her to walk through.
Avery stepped over the threshold into blinding light and a wind that rose to slap her in the face. After days in the dark, she squinted and felt a sway beneath her. Hundreds of feet off the ground, she marveled at a view she had never seen.
“The sky bridge!” she said. “Beautiful!”
Holding the ropes on either side, she walked to the middle.
“What do you see?”
Avery took in the emerald landscape, the Salt Sea, and the magnificent sky—then finally, suddenly, what Tuck pointed at.
Row upon row of tiny boats inched toward the castle—dozens of them.
“Who are they?” she asked.
“Scouts believe Ilsa’s brother is bringing his rebels to the castle to exploit the king’s weakness and overthrow him.”
The old woman had predicted an army would rise up and take the throne.
Edward’s rebels?
“Can Edward do it?”
Tuck shrugged. “Not easily. But if it’s true, many of our friends are in those boats—and in more danger than they realize. Edward won’t be the first to fall.”
Avery didn’t want to see Edward or any of the other thirteen-year-olds lose their lives over a throne that would never belong to them.
“Tuck,” she said, “if the castle comes under siege, you and I will also need to fight to survive. We need to escape.”
Tuck shook his head and looked away.
“What aren’t you telling me?” Avery pressed.
Finally Tuck sighed. “We can’t know for sure yet, but one scout believes he saw a little boy with Edward.”
Henry! Could her brother really be so close? “Edward always claimed to know where Henry was. What if he’s been with Edward all along? What could he want with a boy not even four years old yet?”
“To be clear,” Tuck said, “we aren’t sure there was a little boy at all, let alone that it was Henry. It’s possible he has nothing to do with this.”
“But it’s possible he does,” Avery pushed. “And what if Edward brings Henry as a bargaining chip?”
“In exchange for what?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Let’s just get back to the tunnels and escape through the chapel door on the other side of the sea,” Tuck said.
“No.” Avery turned back toward the castle, her hair whipping her face.
“Where are you going?”
“With Angelina out of the way,” she said over her shoulder, “maybe the king will grant me an audience. If I tell him what’s happening, he can stop it before it begins.”
“You can’t just go talk to him. What are you planning? Tell me.”
Once inside, Avery faced Tuck. “Where is the king?”
“In the Great Hall, but this is not going to end well. I shouldn’t have told you about Henry.”
“Of course you should have! He’s my brother. Now go. I won’t put both of us in jeopardy.” She began her slow, painful trek down the stairs.
“Avery, don’t do this!” Tuck called after her.
She heard the anguish in his voice, but she kept winding her way down the stairwell, wishing her ankle allowed more speed.
Tuck called her name, but he didn’t follow.
Avery finally reached the door that led onto
a balcony overlooking the Great Hall. She peeked over the ledge, and sure enough, there the king sat on a velvet chair, accepting condolences from a line of mourners that snaked past Angelina’s body and all the way outside.
It’s now or never.
Avery sat at the organ and poised her fingers above the keys. With her heart hammering, she played Queen Elizabeth’s song as flawlessly as it had ever been played.
She would draw the king out and demand an audience.
She would tell him about Edward’s army.
And when that act of loyalty earned his respect, she would ask for his help.
Chapter 12
The Paper Boat
As Avery played with all the passion she could muster, women shrieked. Conversation buzzed. Shouts echoed.
And she played on.
Her fingers trembled and her stomach twisted, but she played until the door to the balcony finally burst open.
Two men rushed to her, lifted her from her seat, and carried her back into the stairwell. But instead of going down to the Great Hall where the king sat, they bore her up the stairs.
“Hurry!” one shouted. “The king will demand to know where she went.”
“I need to see the king!” Avery shouted over the din of their footsteps on the stairs. “It’s urgent I speak to His Majesty right away!”
They looked over their shoulders every few seconds until they arrived at a door she instantly recognized. “Wait!” she shouted. “I played that song because I must speak to the king! An uprising is coming, and the entire castle is in danger! He needs to know! Please, you’ll see I’m telling the truth!”
“Open up now!” one of the guards shouted to a man on a stool beside the tower prison door.
“By whose authority?”
“On order of the king.”
“No!” Avery said, trying to wrench free. “You said the king would demand to know where I was! Why would he if he sent me here?”
The other guard pointed his sword at Avery’s nose. “Keep your mouth shut. Nobody asked you anything.”
The door finally opened, and the guards shoved her onto the cold stone floor. “We should just kill her and get it over with before she gets us killed.”
“But what if it got back to the king?”
Avery jumped to her feet and lunged at the door. “Let me out! An army is headed here to overthrow the king! Tell him! I’ll make sure you’re rewarded!”
She pounded until her fists could take no more.
Footsteps moved away from her cell, and Avery knew that once again, Tuck had been right.
She slumped to the floor in a heap, alone again in miserable, terrifying silence. All she could think about was Henry, how close he might be, and what danger he might be in.
And there was nothing she could do about it.
This time there was no food. No visitors. No guards gossiping in the hall. Occasionally, she heard one clank by on his rounds, the only lonely sound.
Avery feared she would die of starvation or thirst. Maybe that was the plan of the bumbling guard who had left the cell door unlocked.
She massaged her ankle and wondered whether it might have been better if the guards had just killed her and got it over with.
Why were they worried that this would get back to the king? Why would he care about one thirteen-year-old girl? It made no sense, yet if he did, she had to find out.
I could write to him.
Avery searched the cell for anything on which she might be able to scratch a message, having no idea how she would get it to the king. She’d figure that out later.
Finally she reached into her pocket and pulled out Henry’s paper boat. She clasped it to her heart, fighting back tears, and then carefully unfolded it. It was an old news bulletin—one of Henry’s favorite materials for making boats.
The headline read, 13-Year-Olds Disappearing Like Smoke.
She moved to the sliver of light from the high window, and suddenly it hit her. This couldn’t have been Henry’s boat! The bulletin would have been printed after she had been brought to the castle.
Unless Henry had made it while in Edward’s captivity.
Chapter 13
Slim Chance
Avery was out of options.
She stood by the cell door, waiting for the clank of the guard on his rounds. How long she waited she had no idea, but when eventually he approached, she called out, “Excuse me! I have a request that could make you rich!”
The clanking stopped.
“I need to get word to the king that could save his life and yours as well! If you can get a message to him and he grants me an audience, I promise to tell him you deserve a reward.”
Silence.
“Are you willing?” she asked, voice quavering. “All I need is something to write with. Even if I fail, what’s the risk to you?”
When the clanking resumed and the footsteps receded, Avery returned to the corner of the cell, desperate to sleep away her fears.
Avery dreamed of home, curled beside her mother on the beautiful bed her father had carved, rain pelting the windows. Her mother told her story after story—including one about a woman with a fish tattoo. She dreamed of life in the tunnels: the continuous dripping and the dampness on her skin. And she dreamed of clanging and rattling, her cell door creaking open, and heavy footsteps approaching and receding. As she dreamed of the heavy door shutting, its slam made her jump.
Face pressed against the cold floor, Avery’s eyes flew open.
Thunder roared outside.
And within inches of her nose sat a jar of ink and a feather pen.
Warmed by her memories of home and relieved this delivery had not just been part of her dream, Avery pushed herself up and quickly smoothed out the news bulletin that had been folded into a boat. She flattened it on the floor.
With the storm darkening the sky, she had barely enough light to see the page. Avery could only hope her handwriting was legible.
Rebels are on their way to the castle. I know who they are and can help. Please find me in the tower prison. Respectfully yours.
Avery signed it, folded it, and slid it under the door, leaving a corner in sight so she’d know when and if it was taken.
“Thank you, sir!” she called out. “I won’t forget your kindness.”
Minutes felt like hours, and she couldn’t take her eyes off the corner of the message.
Finally footsteps. And—with a flourish—the letter disappeared.
Sometime before dawn, Avery sat up to the rumble of footsteps in the stairwell. Guards burst in.
One lifted her with a massive hand and planted her on her feet.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
With a guard on either side and several more behind, Avery was ushered down several flights of stairs and into a private chamber filled with more candles than she had ever seen in one place. The guards stood her before a thick wooden table, where men hunched over a map covered with tiny wooden soldiers and boats. These they maneuvered about, tracing lines with their fingers and whispering urgently.
This is the king’s war council. He has to be here!
And he was—at the head of the table, looking fragile and sad, leaning heavily on a cane.
Razor-sharp panic flooded Avery. Was she ready for this?
Chapter 14
Revenge
“Silence,” the king said.
But his advisors continued to argue.
“Silence!” he yelled, and they hushed. The men turned and seemed to size up Avery as if she were the enemy.
Wishing she had rehearsed what she was going to say, Avery curtsied. “Thank you for your time, Your Grace.”
He hobbled to within a few feet of her. An advisor rushed him a chair, but he ignored it. “You know something about an army advancing upon the castle?”
“I do.”
“Tell me.”
Avery swallowed hard. “I believe a band of rebels has formed.”
An ad
visor snickered, but the king held up a hand. “We know that,” he said. “We need to know why.“
“They plan to overthrow your throne.”
“Who are they?”
“Many once served as staff here.”
The king cocked his head and pressed his lips together. “Disgruntled workers? They’ll survive five minutes against my army.”
“If you give them four minutes to run,” one of his men said, and the others laughed.
“Most are thirteen years old,” Avery said.
“Children? What do they hope to gain?”
“Revenge.” Avery searched the king’s smirking face. He knows nothing of our being held here. “They want to act before you have an heir.”
The king’s smile vanished. He turned and swept the table clean of the little soldiers and ships, the pieces scattering around the room. “I’ll ride out to them myself!” he shouted. “Children siding against their king!”
Avery wished she hadn’t mentioned the heir.
“How sure are you?” an advisor asked.
“Certain.”
The king narrowed his eyes at her but hesitated, looking uncertain. “Why tell me this? What do you want? Everyone wants something.”
Avery wished she could deny it. He made her sound greedy, but she did want something—in fact, several things. Freedom. Breakfast. The war room smelled of roasted meat.
But she would not sell Henry for a bowl of stew.
“The rebels are holding my little brother, and I want him delivered to me.”
The king smiled, and Avery finally relaxed. He made his way back to the head of the table, cane thumping.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “now is the time to strike! I will take the strongest of the fifty thousand men at my command and meet these thirteen-year-olds tonight. Every one of them will be tried as a traitor.”
Avery reeled. The sentence for treason was death.
“But my brother!”
An advisor in a scarlet robe said, “Found among rebels, he’ll be considered a traitor.”
The Paper Boat Page 3
