Princess Juniper of Torr

by Ammi-Joan Paquette

  “Come on, then,” said Juniper. Turning to Jess, with a frown for the yellow cloth, Juniper said, “Don’t do anything rash. I want to talk to him first. We’ll get him to the alley and see where things stand.” Then she and Root strode quickly after the retreating Cyril.

  “Here goes,” muttered Juniper. Then she called out, “Cyril Lefarge—could that really be you?”

  At the sound of his name, Cyril spun in place. He took in the sight of her and Root. His jaw went slack, and his face blanched. “R-Roo—Juniper. It’s—you—but—what—why are you wearing—” He shook his head and pulled himself together. “Look, I can’t stay and chat right now. I’ve got to get back to the palace.”

  “Hey, it’s all right—we’re in a hurry, too,” said Juniper. “We just wanted to talk real quick. Could you give us a second?”

  Cyril hesitated, then finally gave a quick nod. Root led the way to the alley Jess had pointed out. They ducked in the narrow, darkened space between a funnel cake vendor and some booth inexplicably shaped like a giant top hat. Jess was waiting there with her arms folded and a calculating look in her eye.

  “Look,” said Cyril, the second they were in the shadows. “You know I’m tickled pink to see you, but it’s really not a good time.”

  “Bother the time,” said Juniper. “There’s bigger geese on the wing, and you know it. Now what in the name of everything is going on between you and your father and your crown-stealing stepmother?”

  Cyril opened his mouth, then shut it again. He shook his head. “I just don’t have a lot to say right now.”

  “Oh, Cyril,” said Jess suddenly, “it is good to see you!”

  She leaped forward and flung her arms around his neck. Puzzled, Juniper noticed that she had unfurled the yellow handkerchief and now held it in her left hand. She clung to Cyril a moment or two. Odd, Juniper thought; Jess had never struck her as the affectionate type. Then Jess stepped back, a pleased half smile on her face. Folding the edges of her cloth inward with exceptional care, she crammed the bundle into a small pouch and stuffed it into her satchel.

  “What’s going on, Jess?” said Juniper slowly.

  “I . . . ” said Cyril. He brought a hand to his forehead, pulled it back again. Juniper could see beads of sweat dotting his brow. He swayed, then toppled like an axe-felled tree. Root jumped forward and caught him before he hit the ground.

  “What have you done?” Juniper shrieked at Jess.

  “Nothing of consequence,” said Jess smugly. “Only what needed doing. That was scarlet valerian root tincture, for your information. A potion favored by my father when he needs out of a tight spot. Direct exposure to the skin causes the victim to fall into a dazed sleep almost immediately. As you saw.”

  “You had no right to just do that all on your own,” said Juniper through gritted teeth. “I said to wait.”

  “I got us our boy, didn’t I?” Jess shrugged. “Now we can lug him back to the palace, with no one the wiser and none of his gotta-go-be-oh-so-busy retorts. We’ll have him to ourselves in the Aerie to question at our leisure.”

  Juniper sighed. There was so much wrong with this scenario, she couldn’t even begin to break it down. But here they were, and here was Cyril, out cold and breathing in a frighteningly shallow manner. They couldn’t just leave him.

  “We’ve even got the perfect means of transport,” said Jess.

  She tossed the giant MAVENHAM BREADS AND SUNDRIES bag at Juniper’s feet like a challenge.

  18

  THE RETURN TRIP WAS COMICALLY AWKWARD, but went off without a hitch. Puffing and panting, the three deposited their lightly breathing bread bag in the center of the Aerie. Despite the late hour, Egg and Erick were surrounded by heaps of metal bits and bobs. Leena and Tippy had somehow escaped their kitchen duty and stood watching with rapt attention.

  Root wrestled Cyril out of the mouth of the sack while Jess stood supervising, hands on her hips. Panting with effort, Root propped the still-comatose Cyril against the side of the couch.

  “What’s Cyril doing, taking a nap on our floor?” asked Tippy, incensed.

  “Root Bartley,” Jess yelped as Root started to walk away, “you tie that miscreant up at once! Don’t give him a chance to escape now that we’ve got him good.”

  Root looked doubtful. So Jess grabbed a thick round of rope and marched over, as if determined to make sure the job was done right. She even reached into Cyril’s shirt pocket and pulled out a crisp green bandana, which she tied around his mouth as a makeshift gag.

  “There,” said Jess with satisfaction. “None of that loosey-goosey stuff! Let’s see Mister Traitor-Twice-Over try and break out of these bonds.”

  “Jess,” said Juniper, “we haven’t even talked to him yet—”

  Then Erick let out a sudden crow of triumph and Egg slapped her palm hard on the floor. The look on both their faces—disheveled and weary though they were—was pure exhilaration.

  Juniper crowded in close, all thoughts of Cyril blown from her mind. “What do you have? Did it work?”

  Egg motioned to Erick to explain. Her eyes stayed sharply on his lips, and Erick kept his body angled toward her as she held up a prickly, spindly-looking device. “Egg had this figured out, all right,” he said. “It was pretty much there already.”

  “Teamwork,” said Egg. “All of us did it together.” She showed the narrow end to Root and swung the smooth hinge, which smelled of roses, in Jess’s direction.

  Tippy edged over and poked the metal contraption with a finger.

  “This here is the gnut,” Erick said, indicating the swiveling joist. “It brings these other metal bits together.”

  “But what does it do?” Leena asked.

  “Do?” said Egg, standing up and signing with extra care. Then she grinned so wide, they could see all her teeth as Jess delivered her message. “This magnificent beauty is a key that will open any lock it meets. An Everykey.”

  “That’s right,” said Erick. “We’re ready to hit the dungeons.”

  • • •

  With the Everykey in hand, the group decided to act that very night. The attack team was quickly decided on: Juniper in the lead, Egg to work the key, and Root as lookout. Jess insisted on coming along as a backup and helper. Erick looked relieved to stay put, and started listing all the important things he would do back in the Aerie—not the least of which was keeping an eye on Cyril. (Though Juniper noticed how his eye kept drifting to a half-open volume with cross sections of jungle plants that was splayed across the table.) Tippy, too, seemed distracted. She held Fleeter in her lap, mournfully feeding him a pasty mush from her outstretched hand.

  “If only we’d had this device sooner, before the king was moved,” Leena said. “Then we might have freed him and let him take over from there.”

  Juniper sighed. “That would be too easy, wouldn’t it?” The idea of having her father take over the whole battle set off a wistful ache in her heart, followed by the sort of cramp you get when you’re gripping the reins of a particularly headstrong stallion and it’s all you can do to keep him from barreling away and throwing you headlong to your death. Feelings she couldn’t afford right now, even for a moment. She made her voice crisp and businesslike. “We’ve got this, team. There’s no time for a long pep talk, much as you know I’d love to give one.”

  There were scattered smiles around the circle.

  “So here’s the plan: The four of us will make our way to the dungeon. Root, you’ll be in charge of distracting the guard. Then you’ll post behind the tapestry at the top of the stairs as our lookout. The rest of us head on in.”

  By midnight, the dungeon’s main entrance had scaled down to one guard. With the use of their Everykey, they would just need to divert the guard’s attention for a few minutes to get inside, with the door shut and locked again and no one the wiser. Down the stairs from the main door
was the small dormer area, where the overflow prisoners were housed. These were likely to be nobles and other well-regarded prisoners who didn’t require the tightest security measures.

  “They will be easiest to free,” said Jess, striding over to Tippy and holding out her arms for her cat, while Tippy studiously ignored her, “because they’re just inside the main door and up the hallway from the prison area proper. We should see to them first.”

  “They’re also less useful,” said Erick. “If we can free the palace guards, they will help us fight to free the others.”

  But Juniper agreed with Jess. “It’s too dangerous. Every step we take inside the cells increases our risk. There’s a lot more guards on duty farther in, so the quicker we can get willing bodies on our side, the better.”

  “Aren’t you going any farther in, then?” asked Leena.

  “Absolutely we are. But it makes sense to start from the outside, get some numbers on our side, then move in deeper as a group. We may not have soldiers, but there will be enough to form a good ruckus while we free the rest.”

  “Plus, Father is bound to be in the outer cells,” said Jess. “He will be able to direct us. He’s a master of strategy.” She scooped Fleeter off Tippy’s lap and swung him into his customary spot over her shoulders.

  Juniper did a double take. “Wait. You’re not bringing that cat with us.”

  Jess looked offended. “This is no mere cat! This is my partner in spying. I wouldn’t dream of leaving him back.”

  “You left him here when we went out to trap Cyril.”

  “That was different—this is a proper mission, not some jaunt.” She sniffed. “Has Fleeter ever been a speck of trouble before? You know he hasn’t. And he’s saved your royal hide at least once already, so I don’t see there’s any argument to be made.”

  Juniper turned to the others for support, but Root just shrugged, and Egg was looking in the other direction. On purpose or by chance, Juniper couldn’t tell. Well, it wasn’t worth fighting over. It wasn’t as if the cat was noisy, and Jess didn’t seem held back by him in any way.

  “All right, then, it’s on your head.” As Juniper turned to the door, she caught Tippy staring at her.

  Without the cat to distract her, Tippy seemed suddenly awash in emotion. “Oh, Mistress Juniper of the Lock and Key, you will look out for my Elly, won’t you?” Tippy’s voice trembled, and Juniper had an idea of how much it was costing the little girl not to throw herself to her knees and beg to come along on the expedition. Since the fiasco in the Pockets, Tippy had been making a visible effort to control her impulses. Juniper loved her for it.

  “Elly will be at the very front of my mind,” Juniper promised.

  “We’ll take care of things back here,” Erick said. “You will all be safe, won’t you?”

  Jess tugged her cloak up under Fleeter’s paws and tied it in a smart knot. “Come on, laggards. It’s past midnight, and we’ve got prisoners to free.”

  • • •

  While Root produced an alarming clang farther up in the Pockets, the three interlopers slunk out to the brightly lit dungeon entrance and deployed the Everykey. Juniper held her breath while Egg poked and tweaked, her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth and her brows pulled tight in concentration.

  This was it. If this didn’t work, it was all—

  Click.

  The dungeon door swung open with a smooth purr. Not a moment too soon, for as they shot through the door and Juniper eased it shut behind them, she could hear the harsh clap of boot heels echoing back down the hallway toward their customary lookout spot.

  Juniper, Egg, and Jess ghosted down the twisting dungeon stairs, keeping as light on their toes as possible. They needn’t have worried, though. Far from the dank, echoing chamber Juniper had expected, the passageway buzzed and burbled and hummed as though all the sewage and heating pipes of the whole palace might be squashed into the walls above them.

  Still, they kept alert and silent as they moved through the eerie, half-lit passage. Jess pulled ahead when they reached the base of the stairs. She quickly bypassed the first three doors, peering inside the small windows until she stopped at the fourth. She signaled Egg to come with the key.

  Juniper frowned. Why not start at the beginning? She looked in the door closest to her and saw the slumbering form of Baroness Santopolo, a distinguished noble who had brought a younger Juniper toasted caramels every time she visited, a specialty from her hometown of Wily Narrows in the far north of Torr. But Egg was already moving toward Jess, a spring in her steps that told Juniper who was behind that fourth door.

  Pursing her lips, Juniper caught up with them. If it were her father behind one of these doors, wouldn’t she rush to get to him first? Of course she would. In truth, they could do worse than having a professional spy on their side. The idea of having an adult around who could take charge and organize things was appealing. Although some part of her—the part that had been crowned ruler of Queen’s Basin, that had fought the Anju Trials and survived a boiling flash flood and masterminded their entry back into the palace and was even now formulating plans for its takeover—that part did feel just the tiniest bit let down at the prospect.

  Still, it was the right thing to do.

  Moments later, the lock gave a silky click and the door swung open. Jess was inside before it finished swinging. Egg looked after her into the cell, and Juniper saw the longing in her eyes. Then Egg met Juniper’s gaze and waved her lock pick toward the corridor, slipped away, and went to attack their next obstacle.

  Juniper followed Jess inside. Rogett Ceward sat up on his narrow cot bed, the sleepy look falling off his face. Jess crouched over him—not hugging but whispering fervently in his ear. Juniper softened. Jess hadn’t seen her father in over a month; she must have been worried sick for his safety. But the man looked to be well fed and in decent health.

  Rogett squeezed Jess’s hand. “Just let me gather my bag,” he whispered. He bent down to reach under the bed.

  Juniper nodded at Jess. “I’ll go help Egg with the next cell.”

  “Wait—look at this,” said Jess, pointing with a frown. There was a sort of trapdoor handle set into the floor. A secret passage? Juniper hurried over, bending for a closer look.

  “What is it?” she said, keeping her voice low.

  Jess didn’t answer.

  Juniper looked up. Jess stood over her, and Juniper caught her breath at the other girl’s face. Determination and fear and—regret? In the next breath, Jess brought her hand up and flicked all her fingers out wide. Juniper scrabbled backward. She felt a gob of something sticky hit her cheek. She pawed at it, smearing it away and scrambling to her feet as quick as she could.

  “Jess?” she whispered. What was going on?

  The next instant she felt woozy. Her knees went weak, and the room around her began to spin. She thought of Cyril toppling headfirst, out cold. “What have you done?” Juniper said. But she could already tell the words weren’t making it from her brain all the way out her mouth.

  The walls tilted sideways, and the dark stone flashed white.

  Then the light went out altogether, and Juniper knew nothing at all.

  19

  JUNIPER AWOKE WITH A START AND A SPLASH of water up her nose. She jerked upright blinking, her mind as fuzzy as bindweed. She looked around. She was back in the Aerie, surrounded by a cluster of fearful faces. The early sun shimmered outside the window.

  She opened her mouth, croaked, then cleared her throat noisily.

  There was a scuffle of feet, then Leena, Tippy, and Erick crowded into her line of sight.

  “O Most Resurrected of All Junipers, you are safe!” said Tippy, collapsing at her feet in a torrent of sobs.

  Everything came back to Juniper in a rush. “Jess?!” she said. She twisted around to look at the room. Jess was nowhere to be seen. Neither was
Egg. “Where are those girls? Did Jess really use her . . . her sleeping potion on me?” Juniper’s mind was buzzing with questions, but they all seemed stoppered up inside her throat. She couldn’t get her words out fast or clearly enough.

  “You’re all right now, Mistress Juniper,” said Leena consolingly. She was sitting right next to her, one hand on Juniper’s arm and the other holding out a wet cloth.

  “I . . . She knocked me out, didn’t she?” Juniper’s fingers found her cheek. The gunk was gone.

  “She did,” said Erick darkly. “Jessamyn Ceward drugged you with some dastardly potion. I’ve no idea what.”

  “Scarlet valerian root.” Juniper’s brain was still fuzzy, but the events in the dungeon were slowly coming back to her. “The same thing she used on Cyril. But why?”

  “The why is both easy and difficult to answer,” said Erick. “Jess is gone, and her father the spy with her.”

  “And Fleeter! She took Fleeter!” wailed Tippy. “Not even did I get to say good-bye.”

  “She prepared for this, that much is clear,” said Root. “All her belongings are gone—layered inside the pockets of her cloak, no doubt.”

  “Every last jar and vial,” spat Leena.

  “I should have guessed something was up when I saw her putting on that heavy cloak. For an indoor mission! In the dead of summer!” Erick slapped his forehead. “So we know the what. But the why—that, I have no idea.”

  “But we have someone who does, I’m sure,” said a voice from the outer edge of the circle.

  That got Juniper to her feet. “Cyril?!” she yelped. Then she wobbled, steadying herself on Leena’s arm.

  Sure enough, Cyril stood a few steps from the others, looking at her with a mixture of concern, sympathy, and awkward embarrassment. “Um,” he said. “Ah. Hullo, Cousin. Can’t stop yourself from copying everything I do, eh?”

  “Cyril Lefarge, I am in no mood,” Juniper snapped. She checked herself for alarm at seeing him untied: She found none. Interesting. Still, she turned to Erick. “Explain, please.”