Two of Avery’s ladies-in-waiting arrived about half an hour before dinner. One tidied her hair while the other fixed her dress just so and helped her slip into her shoes. Both helped her choose accessories from the cache of jewelry, but her main piece remained the ruby flower necklace, which she could finally proudly display outside her collar.
Avery couldn’t help but think how easily she could get used to such pampering and how all this folderol would have made her giggle—were she not in such dread fear over Henry.
One girl ran to fetch a guard to escort them to the banquet room. The ladies led the way, and the guard followed about six feet behind.
“I appreciate him,” Avery whispered, “but is he really necessary? I mean, you know where we’re going, right?”
“It’s for your safety, Highness.”
That would really take some getting used to.
The ladies accompanied her to a dark-paneled dining room where the king sat at one end of a long wooden table, appearing to idly peruse some parchment documents.
Avery felt self-conscious in the doorway, the aromas of roasting meats and sweet desserts wafting to her from the kitchen. Though she hadn’t eaten a real meal in days, she fought to stay focused on her singular goal: to again plead with the king to help her find Henry.
She kept touching her clean hair and smoothing her dress, not knowing what she was to do.
“We’ll be where we can see you,” one of the ladies said, “so merely raise a finger if you need anything. Wait here till he beckons you.”
“And I’ll be right ’ere, Your Grace,” the guard said, backing against the wall, his scabbard clinking.
The king looked up and quickly stood.
“Come in!” he called, smiling. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”
Avery felt a blush creep into her cheeks. She curtsied and hurried to the end of the table opposite from him. A waiter pulled out her chair for her.
As soon as she sat, kitchen staff began filing in, loading the table with more food than she had ever seen. Avery counted fourteen heaping platters holding meats swimming in thick sauces, various puddings, loaves of crusty bread, and a selection of fruitcakes. A whole pig was roasting in the fireplace, and a baked peacock dressed in iridescent blue feathers stood sentinel in the center of the table.
“Your Highness,” Avery said, “who is joining us?”
“Why, no one, my dear. It would have been rude of me not to tell you if others were coming.”
“I beg your pardon,” she said, “but all this for just the two of us?”
The king slapped the table and burst into laughter. “You have much to learn! You’re not obligated to eat all of it or even half of it! But you may feel free to try a bit of it all and choose what you will feast on. Now let’s eat!”
Avery finally understood how she and all the other thirteen-year-olds had been able to eat so well in the kids’ quarters. The royal leftovers alone were plenty for them.
Avery took her cues from the king as he pointed at the various serving dishes servants presented to him, selecting which and how much they placed on his plate. He was also unapologetic about shaking his head if he didn’t care to try something. She wondered how the cooks would feel if they both ignored a dish.
Once the king’s plate was full, the servants headed toward her.
“How are your accommodations?” the king said.
“Oh, much more beautiful than I deserve.”
“Nonsense! You’re right where you belong. And are you being treated well?”
“Never better,” Avery said.
“Good,” he said. “Trust no one.”
She was tempted to try a bit of levity and ask if that included him, but she was rattled to realize she was being served by Edith, Kate’s sister. She’d seen Edith pour powder into the king’s drink long ago—before he had fallen ill.
“So I shouldn’t trust anyone?”
Edith hurried away, eyes down.
“Well, you can trust me, of course,” the king said. “We’re family.”
Avery stared at her plate. She already had a family! Queen Angelina had been his family, but that hadn’t kept her from having him poisoned.
But a subject was not to argue with her king, even if he did consider her a princess. What would he even say to a claim that his own wife tried to have him killed?
He was already on to new topics.
The king spoke of Christmases and birthdays, promising her trips and jewels and gardens. That should have been the best news in the world to a girl plucked from a poor village, but all Avery wanted was another of her mother’s stories. She hoped someone was tending her father’s garden. And she prayed Henry was safe.
The king suddenly fell silent and seemed to study her. “Are you unhappy, dear?”
“How could I be?” Avery said. “You are being most kind.”
She took an enthusiastic bite of beef so warm and salty that it lay heavily on her tongue, and she could not swallow.
“What’s troubling you? Be honest with me.”
She stopped chewing, aware that, though servants bustled in and out, the king had welcomed her to a door that might never open again. And this would likely be the closest to privacy they would ever enjoy—especially when he discovered he was wrong about her heritage.
Nearly gagging, Avery swallowed the chunk of meat, grateful it went down.
“My brother, Your Grace. His name was—is—Henry.”
The king pushed his plate forward and rested his elbows on the table. “The three-year-old you mentioned. The one my people said was not among the rebels.”
Avery nodded. “But I believe Edward had him, and I miss him with all my heart.”
The king’s jaw tightened at the mention of Edward’s name. “I’ll look into it again and see what I can do. Let’s talk about it again in the morning.”
He reached to poke at something on his plate and took another bite. “One more thing,” he said, his mouth full. “I never should have had you thrown back into the tower prison after you told me about the rebels. I didn’t know—”
I didn’t either, Avery thought, suppressing a smile. Being a princess, even temporarily, had its privileges. Living the life of a royal wasn’t so bad.
Within hours, the king had his advisors bring him the parchment bearing his will. Before an audience of ambassadors and advisors, he attested to Avery’s place in succession to the throne then signed and sealed the document.
He said not a word about Kendrick.
As her ladies-in-waiting helped ready her for bed that night, they chattered about the throngs of people hundreds deep outside the castle who hoped to catch a glimpse of the king’s new heir.
Once the ladies had helped her change into a warm cotton nightgown, one slid a footstool out from the wall, and Avery climbed into the massive bed. She lay back in the deep mattress of fluffy down feathers as her attendants left.
“We’ll lock your door, and guards will rotate, protecting the hallway all night.”
Grateful to finally be alone with her thoughts—not to mention the privilege of sleeping in the third finest bed in the kingdom—she allowed herself a surge of joy. Henry’s fate still weighed on her, but despite all her recent trials, she felt as if she might float away.
Avery reached to blow out the last remaining candle, plumped her pillows, and pulled the heavy blankets to her chin.
As she lay in the pitch-black stillness, Avery heard the unmistakable click in the lock of her door.
Chapter 20
Intruder
So much for her guards. Were they between shifts? Was it futile to cry out?
Avery froze and held her breath as the door quietly closed and someone approached her bed.
She would wait no longer. She sucked in a huge breath and planned a scream so loud it would not only bring her guard but send whoever this was right back out the door.
“Don’t!” he whispered quickly. “I’m assigned to your door till
midnight, so won’t nobody ’ear you. Put my life in danger, and I’ll end yours and not give it another thought.”
“Do I know you?” Avery asked.
“You do, mum. It was I who brought you the ink and quill so’s you could write the king. And I got ’im yer message.”
“I never got to thank you,” she said. “But why are you—?”
“You owe me more than thanks, Yer Grace. You promised a reward.”
“Of course, you’re right! But I was thrown back into my cell and thought I had failed. There was no reward for my information, and—”
“But now there is, m’lady. You’ve become someone special, ain’t ya?”
“Yes! I’m in a position to make sure you’re handsomely rewarded for helping me.” Avery’s mind raced to the boxes of jewels. “Tomorrow morning I’ll—”
“I’ve a brother locked in the dungeon, and I need you to see he’s released before it’s too late. He’s been down there a long time, an’ he’s very sick. Too young and thin to survive much longer.”
Avery shook her head. “I don’t believe I have the authority to—”
“Choose yer words careful, ’ighness, and ’member, my job is to keep you safe. You don’t help my l’il brother, I don’t help you. You got three days.”
“I don’t even know where the dungeon is.”
“You’ll find it. Just get ’im outta there ’fore he dies. Three days. And don’t tell nobody.”
Vulnerable as she felt, lying there on her back, Avery grew angry. “You’d better hope I don’t tell the king. I daresay you’d hang for threatening his heir.”
“Listen, missy, you do what I say or I’ll have him kil’t, too. And your friends. Don’t think I don’t know who they are.”
“What’s your brother’s name?” she asked, as she heard the guard step back toward the door. “I hear the dungeon is full of prisoners. How will I know which one he is?”
“You know him. You beat him in the big race.”
“Thomas?” Avery said, but another click in the lock told her the guard was gone.
After a sleepless night, Avery sat in a high-necked silver gown, nibbling grapes while her ladies braided her hair into an elaborate upsweep. Who knew looking like a queen could be so painful to the scalp?
A servant appeared, curtsied, and said, “The king has sent for you.”
The ladies finished and walked her quickly to the king’s office. He was busy with his advisors.
The room looked much different from this angle than from the grate above it. Marble columns supported an arched doorway, maps and portraits covered the walls, and airy curtains fluttered in the windows. The view was breathtaking.
How could anyone concentrate and get work done in a room like this?
The king’s desk was strewn with thick books, stacks of parchment rolls, and piles of papers. The king pulled close one of his advisors, the one who wore a scarlet robe and a tiny square hat and who Avery noticed often had his ear. They huddled.
Now that she saw him up close, Avery thought, I’ve seen him, but where?
She had spied on this room dozens of times, but with a bird’s-eye view she had never gotten a close look at faces.
Finally, one of the others noticed Avery and cleared his throat.
“Good morning, Daughter,” the king said, and the men nodded to her. “Come in! I was just inquiring about your young friend Henry.”
“My brother,” Avery said.
The king smiled. “Did you get some breakfast?”
Avery nodded. “A little. So can they help me find him?”
The king glanced at the advisors and pressed his lips together. “Avery, I need to tell you—Henry is not really your brother, unless Elizabeth bore a child I knew nothing about.”
The advisors laughed the way men do at their master’s jokes, but Avery did not. She tried to make sense of it all as the king rattled on about why it was not a good idea for him to invest his time and energy “looking for some little boy not related to either of us. I’m just gaining my strength back, and I have a castle—and a realm—to run.”
This sounded oddly similar to his reasoning with Angelina about why he should not marry her.
Blood isn’t what makes a real family. Henry is my brother.
The advisor in red bore a particularly smug expression. Avery wracked her brain. Who was he? Wispy hair, thin, slumping shoulders.
“You sent me to the tower!” she blurted. “In the chapel! You tricked me into thinking you were the king!”
The advisor flushed and laughed, looking desperately to the king. “I’ve no idea what she’s talking about, Your Grace. You know me. Would I trick someone?”
He sounded convincing—even to Avery—but she was certain.
“You wore the clothes of the king, and you told the men to make sure I was never heard from again.”
“Careful, girl,” the man in red growled, scowling.
“Out!” the king shouted. “All of you!”
The men jostled each other trying to get through the door, but when Avery followed, the king said, “Stay.”
“Your Highness,” she said, “Henry is—”
“It’s not enough to be my daughter,” he said sternly, his eyes dark and narrow. “You must act like it, too.”
Avery bowed her head, embarrassed that she had crossed the line. And no amount of proof would change the fact that the king believed the man in scarlet.
“You will not march around my castle accusing people—especially Angelina’s spiritual advisor. Am I clear?”
Avery nodded miserably. “I am sorry, Your Grace.”
The late queen’s spiritual advisor? And he had sent her to the Tower? So Angelina’s advisors had wanted her dead all along.
Angelina knew who I was.
Which means she likely knew who Kendrick was.
The advisor in scarlet still wants me dead!
The king seemed to relax, and he smiled.
“You need to begin selecting your counselors and your own ladies-in-waiting. Don’t feel obligated to Angelina’s choices. These should be people you know and trust. I will also assign a tutor to teach you the ancient languages and castle history.”
He spoke reassuringly, Avery thought, as if trying to soothe his angry child with a treat. He formally patted her on the back, and she realized he would never—could never—be a father to her.
My king and nothing more.
He returned to his desk. “Do yourself a favor and never again refer to this Henry as your brother. In fact, you would do well to forget about him.”
Chapter 21
Relics
Avery sat in her room, staring at a line from the Psalms until she had memorized it.
“What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee.”
After the intruder in the night and her sobering morning, it was just what she needed.
A servant girl appeared. “The king has sent something, Highness. May I have it brought in?”
Avery was sure she had no option.
Two men lugged in a large trunk and set it down with a thump.
When she asked what it was, they mumbled something and were gone. On the one hand, she’d always loved a mystery. But on the other, she had no interest in what the king had sent her.
He had forbidden her from calling Henry her brother, and nothing in this box could make that better.
She returned to her reading, trying to move past the memorized verse. But she was distracted. Not by the box, but by the realization that she had only three days to find and release Thomas.
She had questions for Thomas’s brother but no idea who he was or whether he’d be back on guard duty again that night.
And now the box did intrude. She closed her Bible, knowing the king would ask if she had gotten his gift. She couldn’t lie. Neither did she dare anger him by not opening it.
Lifting the gold hinge, she raised the lid and breathed in stale dust. The king had sent her a dress, but not
just any dress. She held up a tiny gown.
Baby clothes? Why?
The box was full of them, but there was also a folded sheet of parchment bearing the king’s seal. Avery tore it open.
I remember well the day you came into this world and disappeared in the care of the old woman. Though overjoyed at your return, I blame myself for many missed years. For the love you bear your king and father, I pray you never disappear again.
So these were her clothes. But why would the king blame himself? The old woman in the tower prison had said, “The advisor in the fire-red robe took me aside and told me I was to take the babies to the Salt Sea and discard them.”
So the advisor in red had wanted Avery eliminated from the line of succession to the throne long before Angelina was queen.
But why?
Avery pulled from the box more tiny clothes, hoods, and wooden toys. Why would the king have saved these? They’d clearly never been used. The old woman had whisked Kendrick and her away the day they were born.
At the bottom of the box was a large rolled canvas, which turned out to be a painting of the queen—obviously commissioned after her death. In it she radiantly sat on her bed with a baby in each arm. Her long dark hair fell perfectly on her shoulders, and her ladies-in-waiting were gathered behind her.
Avery smiled at Kate—just off the queen’s shoulder—her light hair, delicate features, and sunny smile as familiar as ever. But that couldn’t be Kate! She couldn’t have been more than a toddler then.
Avery held the painting close and studied it. The young woman she’d mistaken for Kate was actually Avery’s own mother! She had never noticed their similarity.
A light knock came on Avery’s door. “Your Grace, it’s me, Kate.”
“You may enter, if you promise not to curtsy.”
The door opened slowly. “Are you sure? Rumors are flying that you’re about to choose your own attendants, and I don’t want to spoil my chances.”
“Just get in here.”
“I heard something was delivered here,” Kate said, smiling. “What’s that you’re looking at?”
Avery rolled up the painting. “I need you to help me find Babs.”
The Paper Boat Page 5
