The others agreed and quickly went about finishing the last of their packing before heading from the cave. Alta began tethering Thunderstar, but Jess went straight for a low pouch hanging between Lady’s hind legs. She reached inside and pulled out a warm, purring bundle.
Tippy perked up immediately. “Fleeter! Ah, my own Fleeter is back, too! May I hold your little spy cat, Jess? I’ve missed him so.”
Jess rolled her eyes, but still seemed to appreciate Tippy’s enthusiasm. Certainly they were the only two who saw any appeal in the mangy creature (which legitimately looked part moth-eaten sweater and part undead corpse). Oblivious to Juniper’s faint shudder, Tippy and Fleeter got busy nuzzling, so she left well enough alone and headed down into the Basin.
• • •
Within a few minutes, all the Queen’s Basin crew had trundled down the winding cliffside path and settled themselves on the worn sitting stones. The torches had been brought from the cave and set up around their dining area, where the flames scratched long shadows on the ring of anxious faces. Leena passed around a basket of day-old biscuits along with Root’s latest efforts at dried meat—quail and summer hare—which was extraordinarily tough, but filling. The effort of chewing also offered some distraction from the worries at hand.
“The meat needs more salt, I think,” tried Root. He was looking around as though trying to gauge the success of his curing skills.
“Fleeter loves it,” Tippy declared.
“Makes us work for every bite, is all,” said Roddy, and a few others murmured agreement.
“I think it’s quite perfect just as it is,” said Oona. Her hand lifted as though she was going to put it on Root’s knee (she was sitting so close to him that she barely had to move to do so), but at the last minute, she seemed to think better of it. She blushed and lowered her eyes.
“So,” Juniper said, turning to Alta, “what news do you have to share of your scouting mission?”
“The journey went—” Alta began.
“Quite as well as expected,” Jess cut in. Alta scowled at the interruption, but Jess barreled on. “We visited Sari first, as it’s the nearest town to us and on our way. We passed quickly through, for as usual they have no concerns but for their own industry and care not a fig for the goings-on of the greater country.”
Being the daughter of a renowned spy-for-hire seemed to have given Jess the right flair for this scouting mission, Juniper thought. “So you didn’t stay over there?” she asked.
“Only an afternoon,” Alta confirmed. “Then we made our way to Longton, arriving by nightfall.”
Jess nodded. “Longton was its usual hotbed of useful information.”
“How did you go about collecting it?” Leena asked.
“In my experience, the best information is gathered by spending time in public places—parks and festivals, marketplaces, alehouses.”
“Surely not an alehouse!” exclaimed Sussi.
“Well, they didn’t allow us in, being young and unaccompanied and all,” Jess conceded. “But then we found a spot even better: an open-air theater putting on a play of Belle and the Moon.”
“Belle and the Moon?” Juniper whispered. The others didn’t know it, but this play—and its title song—had a very special meaning to her. It was not only her favorite musical performance, but also the last song she had danced to with her father, on that night that seemed so long ago, her thirteenth Nameday celebration back at the palace. Before any of this had happened—before Queen’s Basin, before their departure.
Before the Monsians had invaded and taken her father captive.
It was all too easy to get caught up in the day-to-day stress and drama and tasks that needed doing, and to forget the harsh reality that was hanging over them. They were no longer out here to play and have a good time in their carefree summer kingdom. They truly had to be—or had to become at least—a compact fighting force, a miniature all-kids army that the enemy would not see coming.
Somehow, some way, they had to save the day.
Oblivious to Juniper’s inner turmoil, Jess was still recounting the news they had gathered on their scouting expedition. “Word from across Torr is slim and grim. The Monsians did march down the White Highway some weeks back, but they made no stops other than to set some fields ablaze. And that seemed more to make a point than anything.”
“Them’s the fires we saw from here! Clouds of fearsome smoke everywhere!” Tippy shuddered and clutched Fleeter more tightly.
Jess nodded. “The Monsians brought their might against the palace, and were through the walls in a matter of days. It was an inside job, folks say, that’s how they got in so quick. Betrayed from within.”
None of this was news, of course. The betrayal of Rupert Lefarge, the king’s chief adviser and Cyril’s father, was the reason Torr Castle had fallen. But, oh, that did not make it any easier to hear. Those walls had stood for centuries! Down through countless generations of Torrence rulers, not once had the defenses been breached. Juniper clenched her hands into fists.
“Several armed battalions remain at the castle,” said Alta, “perhaps one or two hundred soldiers.”
Erick frowned, and Juniper could guess why. His father had been captain of the guard at the palace. If the Monsian soldiers were loose in the castle, what must be the state of the Torrean guards?
Alta went on, “Now, here’s a curious thing. Apparently the palace is not being ruled by the Monsians, but by Rupert Lefarge and his wife, Malvinia. They’ve been putting out the word that everything across the country should carry on as normal. Including, and especially, Summerfest.”
Jess nodded. “They’ve been sending out a great tide of pamphlets and proclamations, urging townsfolk and villagers to attend. Talking it up as an extraordinary spectacle like nothing that’s come before it. And there is to be a particular announcement on the final day that no one will want to miss.”
“It’s good they’re not changing the Summerfest plans,” said Juniper. Their own palace entry relied on that festival, after all. But she didn’t like the sound of the rest of it. Not one single bit.
“And no one suspected your origins as you gathered your intelligence?” Leena asked.
Jess raised both eyebrows, as if the question was beneath her. She walked over to Tippy and picked up the sleeping Fleeter, settling the cat in the folds of her skirt. Then she pulled a small jar from her pocket and began dabbing her face with cream.
Alta said, “We stayed the night in Longton—this antiquated costume shop owner we sat next to at the show was selling off his stock and taking in boarders, saving up to pursue his lifelong dream of becoming a squid trawler.” Juniper blinked at this information, and Alta shrugged. “It gave us a base for launching our investigations, with no one the wiser.”
“So there’s the news,” said Juniper. The meal had wound down, and Root was passing around a bowlful of hazelnuts. Doggone things—where did he keep getting them? Now with bellies satisfied and this new information heavy on their minds, the settlers were getting restless.
“We had ourselves a sound plan,” Leena said, her voice sharp, “before Cyril ran amok on us. What do we do now?”
“Yes,” said Oona. “How does all this change things for us?”
Jess screwed the lid back on her jar and waited with the rest.
Juniper climbed to her feet. The truth was, she had no idea. But what she did know was their starting point. And as any good list maker knows, once you scratch that #1 on the page, you’re as good as halfway to your goal. “All right. Listen up, Queen’s Basin,” she said. “Let’s recap what we know. Starting with Summerfest.”
“Summerfest!” trumpeted Tippy, popping up to bob around Juniper like a gourd-doll set to rocking. “Only the most glorious time of the year! Seven days of food and frolic in the summer sun.”
“Kicks off in just over a week,” said
Leena. “Back in my palace days, we were sweating in the kitchen for ages leading up to it, getting everything ready for the crowds.”
Juniper nodded. “It has always been my father’s favorite festival,” she said quietly. “It’s a tradition that goes back to his father’s father, who wanted a time when the citizens of Torr—so many as cared to join in—could mingle and refresh themselves all together in one place.” Juniper had so many memories of Summerfest in years past: watching the slippery butterfight wrestlers duke it out for the crowds, the taste of sticky spun-sugar confections on her tongue, the tangled riot of noise and crowds that gave off a gauzy freedom she felt at no other time. Summerfest had always been one of the highlights of her year. But this year, things could not have been more different.
Thousands of townspeople and villagers from all across Torr traveled every summer to the castle for the chance to attend—or even to be on the outskirts, for not all of the gathered thousands could make it into the castle proper. In the weeks building up to the end of summer, tent cities were erected in the fields outside the castle grounds. Closer to the gates, the shopkeepers, tradesmen, and performers set up their stalls. These next few weeks would be packed with people and buzzing with activity. And this year, it looked like there might be even more attending than usual.
In short? There was no better place for a small rebel group to hide in plain sight.
“So the grand palace opening on Summerfest Eve has been the linchpin of our plan thus far,” said Juniper. The Queen’s Basin group had planned to lurk among the festivalgoers during the week leading up to the festival, using the cover of the crowd to gain information on the Monsian presence in the palace: enemy plans, placement, fortifications. They would then make their move during the grand feast that was traditionally held the evening before Summerfest. In all the hullabaloo of partying crowds, no one would notice a stealthy stream of kids joining the greater throngs to gain access to the palace. Once inside, the kids would go right to work freeing the king and reclaiming the castle.
The details of said rescue, admittedly, had yet to be worked out. That first step was solid, though.
Or at least, it had been.
Juniper sighed. “But now we need to rethink everything. Cyril knows our plan. He’ll be expecting us. So let’s think about it: What will his first step be upon leaving here?”
“Make a beeline back to the palace,” said Erick. “Spill our info. Then have all the guards lined up and ready. On Summerfest Eve, they’re alert and on the lookout. They spot us; they pounce.”
“Even more than that,” said Alta, “I bet he’ll send guards into the festival grounds well before the fest begins. He’ll be looking for you and us all so he can foil our plans before they start.”
“He won’t even let us set foot in the castle,” said Sussi, her voice quivering.
“We should count on more security around King Regis, too,” said Jess, “now they know someone’s set to try a rescue. And we should probably prepare for the worst: The king wasn’t to be moved until after the festival? If I were the bad guys, I would try to get him out sooner. Pack him right off on his way before it even starts. Stop any chance of subterfuge cold.”
Juniper felt the familiar tightening inside her chest. Don’t lose focus, she told herself. But how on earth could they best an occupying army? They were just thirteen kids, after all. Zetta of the Anju had promised help if it came down to a fight, but she wouldn’t march her people in blindly without knowing what was going on. No, their only weapons had been secrecy and the element of surprise.
And now what were they left with?
Juniper looked around her at the ring of dispirited faces. This had been hard enough when they did have a solid plan. Now the group felt perilously close to falling apart.
Still unsure what to do, Juniper cleared her throat. The chatter died away.
“Oh, boy,” said Tippy in a dramatic whisper. “It’s time for a speech, innit?”
Juniper smiled weakly. “You know me well, Tipster!” She cleared her throat again, sharpening her focus. All right, actually she was stalling for time. Finally she said, “I’m not going to lie to you: This is a low blow we’ve been dealt. Cyril’s duplicity has us right back at the starting gate. But we’ve been well pummeled before. And have we let that stop us?” A mutter went around the circle. “We’ve faced storm and flood, we’ve built a country all our own, we’ve lived alone in the wild, and we’ve thrived. We are overcomers. We are the children of Torr! And now? Without a doubt, we are Torr’s only hope. So.” She paused. Something was niggling at her from earlier in the conversation.
And with it, the spark of an idea.
Juniper turned to Alta and Jess. “I’ve been thinking about that place you stayed in Longton,” she said.
Jess made a hawking sound in her throat. “That renegade silk-stitcher.”
Juniper beamed. “Ah, yes. About the silk. And cotton and velvet and leather and lace! That’s exactly what caught my attention. Now listen up, for I have a new plan that might help us not only outsmart Cyril but get the jump on our whole enemy besides. First, we’ll need to break into two groups.”
“Huh?” Tippy’s eyes were round as an owl’s.
“Yep,” said Juniper. “One group will head straight for the castle. And the other? Will do a little dressing up.”
Team Goshawk
Members: Juniper—Erick—Jess—Leena—Root—Oona—Tippy
Motto: Blaze the trail . . . trail the blaze.
Mission: Infiltrate, investigate, initiate.
Team Bobcat
Members: Alta—Paul—Toby—Sussi—Roddy—Filbert
Motto: The best guise is a disguise.
Mission: Hide in plain sight; be ready for anything.
3
“PSSST!” CAME A VOICE IN THE DARK.
Juniper startled awake, nearly hitting her head on the low roof of her bedchamber in the hollowed-out heart of the Great Tree’s trunk. Pulling her covers around her against the night chill, she squirmed out onto the landing. There on the tree house’s wood-plank floor stood Jess, looking perfectly put together in tight curls and crisp riding dress. The pale morning light—was it even morning yet?—filtering through the tree’s leafy canopy set Jess’s teeth glinting and her powdered cheeks shining.
“What are you doing here?” Juniper whispered, not wanting to wake Tippy, who was sleep-mumbling in the bedroom nook above Juniper’s. “It’s nowhere near time to set out yet.”
“I’ve been thinking a little more about this plan,” said Jess, “and our dastardly Cyril, and your very well-known appearance.”
“My very what—?”
“Princess Juniper,” said Jess, “from the time I was knee-high to a ferret, I’ve seen your face everywhere I looked: paintings, dioramas, performances. You’ve got the best-known mug in the Lower Continent, I reckon.”
Juniper scoffed, but Jess smirked at her. “No need to deny it. But don’t you worry a wink. I’ve got a special party trick, and I’m all ready to share.” She raised one hand to show a small corked bottle and a sharp pair of scissors.
Haircutting scissors.
• • •
A full hour later, Juniper peered sidewise at the rippling surface of the Lore River as they walked alongside it. Their looking glass had been lost in the flood, so it was hard to clearly see the changes that Jess’s scissors and dark mystery bottle had worked. Juniper jiggled her sleeve so that the bone-handled comb she kept there slid out. She ran the comb through her newly short locks.
“Do I look very different?” she asked.
Jess shrugged. “Not your face, of course. And not to anyone who knows you well. But the outer trappings are brand-new.” One side of her mouth edged up in an approving smile.
Juniper squinted again at the water’s surface. Truthfully, she felt worlds different. Jess had hacked
off her long russet curls to chin-length, and had doused what remained in a black walnut tincture that left them a rich, nutty brown. Her disguise was finished by exchanging her beloved blue traveling gown for a well-tailored pair of trousers and a thick woolen vest and surcoat. She did insist on keeping the snow-white cloak that had belonged to her mother, lately given her by Mother Odessa. Jess had grudgingly agreed; after all, Juniper had gotten the cloak after leaving the palace, so it would not be recognizable.
“Aghast!” Tippy bleated as she whirled up to them, then fell dramatically to her knees. “Why, Your Most Pitifully Shorn Majesty, what has that weevily girl done to you? To your hair and your—your—gown and—”
Alta stepped up and studied Juniper, then grinned. “I know you were sick of that fancy braided updo after Cyril’s takedown party, but I didn’t realize things were this bad.”
The others were gathering now, too, pulled in by Tippy’s loud bluster, which showed no signs of stopping.
“The locks of deepest auburn, all gone . . .” Tippy wailed.
“Hush now,” Juniper said finally. “I’m not so very different as all that!”
“I daresay you could pass all but the closest inspection,” Jess said proudly. “Cyril and the guards are bound to be scanning from a distance. They’ll have no time to study each face up close, so long as we stay out of their way.”
“Good thinking,” said Erick. “I like it.”
The others agreed, with the exception of Tippy, who stayed stubbornly bereft. But what was done was done, and even she finally conceded defeat. The group moved up to the Great Cave as the sun rose over the Basin.
It was nearly time for their adventure to begin.
At the cave’s entrance, Juniper turned for one last look at their rough little country: the stone walkways they had painstakingly wedged back into place after the flood; the dining area with its stout ring of sitting-stone boulders that had not given an inch to the waters; the warm and welcoming Great Tree, with its secret branch-stairs and the hidden chambers at its heart. These places had become so much a part of her over these past summer weeks. She couldn’t believe she was really leaving.
Princess Juniper of Torr Page 2
