“We just need to be able to get into the dungeon when it does,” said Jess, with a pointed look at Egg.
“Right,” said Juniper, not needing to look at Egg to know what her answer would be. “So let’s talk about keys. What are our options?”
Erick said, “There are only two keys to the main dungeon entrance: one around the waist of the Mantis herself, and the other in the pocket of the chief guard on duty, who unlocks for the changing of guard twice a day.”
“What about the individual cells?” Jess asked. “Are those locked separately?”
Erick nodded. “They’ve each got their own separate keys. I’m guessing there’s some big receptacle or board in the main room, so they’re all out in the open in full sight.”
Juniper nodded. “Easy for the guards to get to and for them to keep an eye on.”
“So all that’s holding us back is the key,” said Jess, again putting extra emphasis into the signing portion of her speech.
Juniper said, “She’s working as fast as she can. Now we need to do our part: get ready and also look out for other ways to get those keys. That’s all the plan we’ve got so far.”
Egg and Jess seemed locked in some private unspoken rivalry. Root and Leena looked game for anything. Tippy was close to falling asleep right there on the carpet, her legs curled close under her mud-streaked gown.
“It could work,” said Erick.
“It will work,” said Juniper. “If we move fast, we can be in and out of the dungeons while the guards are still duking it out with the crowds. And now we know my father is in there. So even if all we have time to do is get him out, that will be enough. Once we get the key and set him free, the Mantis’s reign is over.”
Jess pursed her lips. “Foolproof!” she said sarcastically. She glared at Egg.
Juniper shifted uncomfortably. She knew full well that the plan was hardly foolproof. As plans went, it wasn’t great; in fact, it was about as holey as a cheese grater. But for now, it was all they had. And one thing was sure: standing still would take them nowhere at all.
It was forward or bust.
15
THE COMING GALA HAD EVERY WORKER IN the palace humming early the next day, and the buzz only grew as the day went on. The main floor of the palace was a veritable hive of busy bees—including the Throne Room (which had been opened into its larger Grand Ballroom space), the library, and a number of smaller parlors and gathering rooms for guests who wanted to dip in and out of the evening’s more noisy entertainment. Bodies were at work everywhere: dusting, sweeping, mopping, polishing, waxing, painting, retouching. The parade was endless. The whole day wrung out of Juniper a deep nostalgia. It was so very much like any other Summerfest Eve; she kept half expecting her father to stride around a bend, inspecting the garlands or running through the guest list one last time.
But this was no regular Summerfest Eve, and her father would come nowhere near the guest list—nor anywhere ever again, if that evil Praying Mantis and her sinister stepson had their way.
“Everyone ready?” Juniper said to her skeleton crew.
They were ready—those who were still here, anyway. Team Bobcat had settled with the other performers into the exercise area behind the stables, and by all accounts, they were practicing their hearts out. Oona had permanently joined the Bobcats. Egg had barely moved from her spot all day, keeping busy on her widgets to the exclusion of all else. She clearly knew how much hung on this promised key. Tippy was at her scrubbing duties and had managed to draft Leena to help in the kitchens with her. Between them, they’d managed to smuggle Odessa’s blue stone into the royal meatloaf, which headed down to the dungeons at midday. Now it was just a matter of waiting, though Leena and Tippy were kept so busy at their work that the others scarcely saw them for the rest of the day.
This left Juniper, Erick, Root, and Jess to spy on the evening’s gala.
“The Mantis has promised her big announcement tonight,” Juniper said, “so we’ve got to be on peak alert. There’s so much we need to know: Who is she paying special attention to? Who is currying her favor? Can we overhear any mutterings of discontent or division? Basically we’re looking for anything at all to help us in the next phase of our plan.”
“Tomorrow,” said Erick, with a tiny shiver.
“Tomorrow,” Juniper confirmed. It was both right around the corner and impossibly far away. Hold on, Papa! she thought desperately, wishing that her blue stone could have had some encouraging words scratched onto its polished surface. We’re coming to save you!
• • •
The four subversives wound through the Pockets to the main floor, where they went their separate ways. The spyholes and viewing nooks were scattered all over the huge ballroom, and they had each staked out a spot to get eyes on a different section of the room. Jess would patrol the smaller adjoining chambers in case any private gatherings merited overhearing. Fleeter was deputized to guard the cushions in the Aerie, since sleeping seemed to be his main superpower.
Juniper herself squeezed into the tiny unused hat closet she had first shown Erick all those weeks ago, before their trip to Queen’s Basin. She remembered the two of them peeking out at the festivities—what a different party that one had been! Juniper’s thirteenth Nameday celebration, and all she’d had on her mind was settling Erick into his place and then breezing out in her finery, to sit near her father’s throne and enjoy the evening.
Juniper hadn’t expected this to be an easy night, but she hadn’t realized just how tough it would be. She twisted the false hook and lowered her eye to the peephole.
The ballroom was at once achingly familiar and yet wholly different. Guests milled around, sipping at their goblets and munching on delicacies. The tall balcony doors had been thrust open to let in the warm night air, and the orchestra at the far side of the room played a peppy tune.
But all Juniper’s attention was on the great golden throne—her father’s own seat—which was occupied by none other than Malvinia Lefarge. No one else was up on the dais with her: not her husband (at last report still unresponsive in his chambers), nor Cyril, nor even the elusive young Artie, who seemed to spend more time out of sight than just about anyone. No, the Mantis sat alone, like a proud lioness surveying her domain. Juniper pushed her hands hard into her sides; punching the walls right now would do nobody any good.
The would-be queen stood. She strode to the center of the dais at the front of the Throne Room. She raised both hands.
Gradually, the crowds quieted. It was time for the proclamation.
Having gained the attention of the crowd, the Mantis took a moment to bask. Her cheeks quivered in delight, and her neck was so heavy with jeweled chains, Juniper thought she might topple right over.
Maybe that was just wishful thinking.
Still, her head was bare—and how that must gall her, Juniper thought, to not yet be wearing the crown of Torr. Tonight was a crucial element of the Mantis’s plan: spinning her story that would brush the king out of her way in the people’s eyes, freeing her to become the new ruler of Torr.
But what about Rupert Lefarge? Would she wait for her husband to regain his health before the coronation?
Somehow, Juniper didn’t think so.
The Mantis opened her mouth wide. She did not devour anything, but her wordspew was bad enough. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she oiled. A liveried servant held a gleaming silver cone below her mouth. Her voice echoed around inside the bell and blasted out in all directions. “Guests from near and from far—I am so pleased to welcome you to Torr Palace, and to this celebration launching our most pivotal event of the whole year: the grand Summer Festival!”
Can’t even get the name of the festival right, Juniper fumed. And her father had never needed props to get his people to hear him!
Juniper scanned the audience. So far, all looked attentive (except one shabbily dressed grou
p, which was steadily working through the snack table). Three scribes sat below the dais, taking down every spoken word, and four runners stood stretching their arms and legs, presumably ready to dash any proclamations far and wide.
But she was losing track of her enemy’s speech.
“—this glorious day, which shall launch an era that shall be talked about for generations!” There was a pause while the guards, servants, and throngs of guests applauded politely. The Mantis’s face took on a look of ineffable sadness. “Before we go any further—and there is good news ahead, a great deal of it—I must first get the bad news out of the way. All of you have surely noticed the change in the leadership of Torr Castle. King Regis of Torrence has not been seen for weeks, and many are wondering, What has become of him? What will become of Torr?” She brought a hand to her brow. “Friends, here is the truth: Regis Torrence is a traitor and a rogue. He spent his reign stealing money from the royal treasury, living in luxury, and consorting with base elements.”
Shock froze Juniper’s mind to ice. A murmur rose from the crowd, but the Mantis silenced them with a gesture. “There is more—oh, there is much more!” She sighed deeply. “My people, I hoped to spare you the pain, for I know how you loved him. As did I, oh, so dearly!” Her voice hardened. “But there is no sugarcoating the truth. I know you have seen the desolation extending all the way up the White Highway. How many fields burned? How many have lost their livelihoods? This, my people, this is what happens when weakness and corruption hold the throne.”
Juniper felt like throwing up. How could the Mantis blame the Monsian raids on her father?
“These are desperate times, my people of Torr. And sometimes the sweetest-looking plant can hold the most foul and rotten root. It is for this reason—the deep love and loyalty I bear to Torr—for this reason I have arisen to the throne of Torr. And you, people of Torr, can now rest easy. You are safe from the machinations of this evildoer. Regis Torrence will never be allowed to rule Torr again.”
The muttering was growing louder, but Juniper couldn’t tell if the noise was anger or shock. The Mantis raised her voice still more. “At the end of this week, I—Malvinia Lefarge—shall be crowned Queen of Torr on this very dais. And you shall all be my witnesses. Until then, there is much to be done, and a ruler cannot be too vigilant. For this reason, we have made several changes from how things were run in years past.
“First: We will not be opening the gates to the public on the morrow. The opening-day gala and feast within the gardens shall proceed as planned, but for a preapproved list of high-ranking guests only—including you in this room, of course. Beyond this, a small rotation of common folk may be allowed to filter through. But only such as can be easily contained, and only for short periods.” This brought the barest muttering from the crowd; only commoners, after all, were being kept from the castle grounds.
But Juniper’s mind went into a further tailspin. Not only had they lost the element of surprise—how could they reveal the Mantis’s plans, after all, if those plans were already out in the open?—but now they had lost their crowds, too. What were they going to do? Pushing down her panic, she listened for what else the woman might dredge up.
“For my next proclamation: We shall see the arrival of some important dignitaries several days hence—representatives from the nation of Monsia. I know that as Torreans, our relationship with our sister nation has been . . . fraught at times.” Sister nation?! Juniper’s urge to punch something was now nearly overwhelming. But the speech just wouldn’t end. “However, Monsia has been a crucial supporter of your new government, and as such I am proud to declare a brand-new alliance between our two nations. In four days’ time, we shall be pleased to officially receive the first delegation from that praiseworthy nation. The Monsians shall be here as our guests, and I trust that this will be the start of a fruitful and long-lasting partnership.
“These dignitaries shall also assist with one very sensitive matter. For the crimes mentioned above, and still more that are not yet made public, Regis Torrence shall be tried and sentenced. And in the interest of fairness—for we wish to display our magnanimity and goodwill—the trial shall not take place here in Torr Castle. Nor shall I myself, as the throne’s successor, have anything to do with this judging. Instead, the prisoner shall return at the end of this week to Monsia, where the proper deliberations may unfold in an equitable fashion.”
Juniper thought her head was going to explode. How could the Mantis say all those things with a straight face? How could she use the burning of Torrean land on one hand to justify her rise to power, while at the same time presenting Monsia as a cozy new ally? It made no sense. How could everyone listen quietly and go along with it? How could they stand it?
Or maybe they just knew better than to speak out. If King Regis of Torr himself had not been safe from this ruthless impostor, who was?
“There is more good news to share, people of Torr!” Malvinia’s voice was choked and slightly breathless. “As you know, the transition of power from one ruler to another seldom runs as smoothly as it might. Our palace dungeons are now filled with those who disputed the change as it was taking place. But to those of you who have family and friends in confinement . . . take heart! For this will be my gift to you, my first edict as your new ruler: Upon the event of my coronation, upon Regis Torrence’s exit from this castle, every dissenter shall be released. Yes, I said it! Every last prisoner shall receive a full pardon. Oh, they will need to pledge loyalty to the new throne. But how will they help doing so, being thus pardoned by their rightfully crowned ruler?
“This . . . ” She cast her gaze to the ceiling. “This is the love and devotion which I bring to my heavy task as your new ruler. Thank you.” She paused again, then bared her teeth in something probably meant to be a smile. “I shall now leave you with one final gift. And reminder.”
With that, the Mantis turned and stalked down from the dais. The crowd shifted in place, each person turning to the next as though trying to figure out her final words. Then a visible wave swept through the crowd: hands grabbing arms, jaws dropping, shoulders trembling, and a body or two swooning in place.
Juniper craned to see where they were all looking, but while her spyhole gave her a fair view of the ballroom, its range was limited. Whatever had transfixed the crowds was completely out of her sight.
She had to see what was happening.
With a slam, the door to her spy closet was flung open. In the doorway stood Erick, his face chalky. “Don’t look,” he stammered.
“Don’t look at what? I can’t see from here—what are they all staring at?” Juniper kept her voice low, but felt panic rising inside her.
Erick shook his head. “Don’t worry about it for right now. Let’s just get back to the Aerie and then—”
Juniper cleared the two steps between them and grabbed her friend by the shoulders. “Erick,” she said, “I’m not some delicate blossom. This is my father’s palace, and that usurper is trying to take it over. I know how bad and horrible she is. But I will know what she is up to!”
Erick slumped. He let out a long breath. “Come on, then,” he said. “There’s a place we can see from just down the hall.” They exited the coatroom and slipped down the hallway. They needn’t have worried about being spotted: The halls were eerily bare, not a soul in sight. They ducked into an empty stateroom, and Erick grabbed for the heavy drapes. Juniper just leaped underneath and plastered herself to the plate-glass window.
“It’s—it’s the Glassroom?” said Juniper, disbelieving.
It was.
King Regis’s specially crafted glass planting chamber was being slowly hauled up its tall pillar, whose top reached the upper level of the palace. Juniper remembered that renovations had recently been made to the Glassroom.
What did they do to it?
All the way around the glass dome’s peak, a well of lamp oil was kept burning d
ay and night—for the warmth of the plants inside and so watchers near and far could see their lighted beauty. On a moonless night like tonight, the raised Glassroom was a sort of beacon in the night sky.
But what that beacon displayed now was not just lush green leaves and a colorful riot of bright blue, red, and yellow flowers. Suddenly, Juniper knew what the construction had been about. As the glass bubble rose, flaming against the sky, Juniper could clearly see inside it the figure of a man—slightly stooped, rumpled, rather the worse for wear. Very clearly a prisoner and now being made a spectacle.
Locked in the Glassroom was King Regis Torrence.
The Countdown Has Begun
Days until Summerfest begins . . .
0
Days until Team Bobcat’s big performance . . .
3
Days until the Monsian reinforcements arrive . . .
4
Days until King Regis is moved to Monsia and out of reach . . .
7
Days until serious answers and action are required . . .
MUST HAVE NOW!!!
16
“THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING,” JUNIPER SAID the next day, when they were all gathered together back in the Aerie. The Mantis’s horrifying revelation had neatly squelched any further spywork the night before, and now the group drooped around the Aerie like a still-life exhibit on Despair. This morning was the official start of Summerfest, and the castle grounds had all the joy of an open grave. Juniper herself was still half in shock from the night before, but all she could think of was to get busy doing something.
Princess Juniper of Torr Page 10
