Princess Juniper of Torr

by Ammi-Joan Paquette

  Erick nodded. Far from his usual timid manner, he now looked firm and confident. “Cyril woke up shortly after you left. He made it clear that he wanted to talk, so I removed his gag.” He added, “It was really just to give him water at first—he also looked parched. But it turned out he . . . had a lot to say. And what he said made sense.”

  “Chief among the things I wanted to talk about was the untrustworthiness of a certain pair of Ceward sisters.”

  “What?” said Juniper, plopping down on a cushion. Lands, but her legs had the collywobbles!

  Now she saw Egg: Her skinny body was propped on the couch, swathed in the rope bindings and gag formerly used on Cyril. Next to her sat Root, a determined scowl on his face as though she might fly away and he was the only thing keeping her aground.

  “That day last week, when I was in the Royal Suite talking with my stepmother and you were spying on me . . . I assume it was you?” Cyril said, lifting an eyebrow. “Who else would make such an infernal racket while trying to be sneaky?”

  “Hey!” said Juniper hotly. “That wasn’t—I just—” She caught Tippy’s eye. “Never mind. Go on.”

  “At any rate, I figured you all had changed plans and come in early, suspecting me of dastardly deeds. So I kept an eye out. I saw Tippy right away in the kitchens, and others of you here and there.”

  Juniper wilted. Had they really been that obvious?

  Cyril smiled mischievously, as though reading her mind. “I was looking for you specifically. No one else would have suspected a thing—you were all shockingly stealthy.”

  “So why didn’t you say something to us, then, if you had such good intentions?” challenged Root.

  Cyril scratched his head. “Ever since I got back here, I’ve been doing a lot of mulling. And some things didn’t add up. Did you read the letters Jess sent her sister?” Juniper shook her head. “I didn’t think so. I’ve got some experience with sneaking and double-crossing myself, and I know things aren’t always clear-cut. Most of you were focused on gathering information about my stepmother and the goings-on in the castle, but the Cewards . . . not so much. They seemed to be off doing things on their own. So I figured I would sit tight and see what happened. I didn’t want to show my hand too soon if there were unsavory elements within your ranks. Meanwhile, I was plenty busy dogging my stepmother’s every move, making sure she didn’t mess with my father’s health any further, and trying to counteract the damage she’s done to him so far. And keeping an eye out for my little brother.”

  “Artie,” said Juniper.

  “Yeah. He’s three. Honestly? He’s the main reason I came back when I did. I just . . . ” He shook his head. “My stepmother is the most self-centered woman alive. Believe me on this. And my father means well, but he has been under her thumb for as long as he’s known her. You think this takeover plan came from his mind?” He barked a laugh. “Not a wisp of it. Oh, he’s not guiltless—he went along with it, after all. We both did. And now he’s paying the price, for all that I’m trying to counteract her malice.”

  The knot of questions was so thick in Juniper’s mind right now that all she could do was listen, trusting that Cyril would untangle the whole snarl in due time.

  “My father’s a grown man—I wasn’t worried about him.” He frowned. “Although apparently I should have been. But Artie—oh, my stepmother does love him, I know. But he’s still such a baby. And she gets so involved with herself that she neglects him awfully. I needed to come back and make sure he was all right.”

  Juniper frowned. “That’s your reason?”

  “All right, there’s more. That night before I left—we were all sitting down together hashing out the big plan. You didn’t even take into account my part in things. What do you think would have happened if I showed up right at the same time as you all? You think my stepmother would have trusted a thing I tried to tell her?” He shook his head. “I needed to arrive here on my own, at some space from the rest of the group, if I wanted her to believe I was still on her side.” He glared. “And it worked, didn’t it? I’m not a bit sorry I did.”

  “But, Cyril,” Juniper said, exasperated, “you could have—well, why didn’t you just say all this back in the Basin?”

  Cyril shrugged. “You didn’t fully trust me, I could tell that. I knew you’d refuse if I asked to leave early.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut in quickly. “Didn’t I offer to go on the scouting expedition? You wouldn’t have it. So I couldn’t risk this. If you weren’t on board, I’d have put my plan out there and lost all chance of sneaking away. And . . . well, maybe a part of me wanted to see if you would believe me. I thought to myself, She’ll probably imagine the worst, but who knows?”

  “You were testing me?”

  “I guess I was.” Cyril broke into a grin. “If so, then you failed miserably. But in any case, I came back for Artie, and for infiltration, and instead I found this unspeakable business going on with my father.”

  “He had an accident, I heard,” put in Leena. “Fell off a horse and never came back ’round?”

  “No chance of that,” said Cyril. “I got my hands on the so-called medical records. That doctor is in my stepmother’s private employ, and he is not there to make my father well. She’s keeping him sedated. Among other things.”

  “But why would she do that?” Juniper said. “Her own husband!”

  “Well, she wants the power, pure and simple. All the power,” said Cyril. “That’s what she’s always been after. As long as my father was around, he would be gumming up the works, trying to rule the kingdom himself, questioning her decisions. Imagine that! No, she has to have the final word in everything. Always has. Except now it’s gone beyond our family to the whole of Torr.”

  There was a silence.

  “All right,” Juniper said finally. “So we’re caught up, and that brings us to tonight.” She glanced at Egg, who was watching the proceedings with a hawkish eye. Judging by her angle on Cyril and the look on her face, she had managed to follow the conversation.

  Good. Juniper had a few choice questions for this girl.

  The first of which was, if the sisters had finked on them, how was Egg still here?

  “Let’s untie her,” said Juniper, and Leena set to work.

  “First I got something to say,” Tippy cut in. She scrubbed a hand at her eyes and swallowed thickly. “I understand why you didn’t free Elly, My Own Princess Juniper. I know you would have if you could.” The girl fought tears again, and Juniper wilted.

  “I’m so sorry, Tippy. We never even got as far as the main prison area. I promise we’ll find a way back into that dungeon to rescue your sister, and soon. But let’s get the whole story, shall we?” Tippy wiped her eyes and nodded, and Juniper turned to Root. “Now, what exactly happened after I passed out?”

  “I heard movement coming back up the stairs,” said Root, “and figured you all were returning—though it was quicker than I expected, and the signals were off, so I hadn’t yet diverted the guard as we’d planned. The guard heard the steps, too, and went to the door. Must have figured it was the inside men heading out. He stood right before the door, all casual-like. Instead”—Root swallowed—“instead, the door flung open so hard, it knocked him off his feet. He toppled back, and before he could even yell, a man leaped out holding something in both his hands. He swung at the guard’s head, and the guy fell over flat.”

  Juniper gasped audibly. The others were silent, apparently having heard this story already. “Ceward?” she whispered.

  “I didn’t know who it was at first, but then I saw Jess right behind him. It was his boot he swung—giant thing, all heavy and hobnailed. He shoved it back on his foot, and they both tore down the hall before I could pick my jaw up off the floor. I didn’t know whether to follow them or what, but I decided to come look for you instead. I found you on the ground in the empty cell, with Egg be
nding over you. I brought her back to the Aerie first—she came with me willingly, I’ll add—then Leena and I returned zippy-quick for you. And here we are.”

  Leena had finished with the knots by now, and Egg rose stiffly to her feet, stretching her arms and legs while her eyes darted from face to face.

  “Can you follow our speech without Jess to interpret?” Juniper asked.

  Egg fished out her chalk. “Mostly. Can get the general meaning. I have much practice. My father was very”—she smudged something out—“persistent in my spy training.”

  Juniper folded her arms. “So you double-crossed us.”

  “They. Not me.”

  “Come on,” scoffed Cyril. “I know a thing or two about families and betrayal. Don’t tell me you weren’t in on this plan.”

  Root raised his eyebrows at Cyril as if to say, Tread lightly, my friend. Cyril wasn’t on quite so solid ground yet as to go about pointing accusing fingers. His last remark appeared to hit home, however. Egg pressed her lips together and gave the barest shrug. Then she wrote, “I chose not to go with them.”

  “Why would you stay?” asked Juniper. “Did you hang back to check on something? Pinch something from my pockets, maybe, before Root caught you?”

  Egg shook her head. “I did not agree with them.”

  Juniper considered this. “Why?”

  Egg just shrugged, as if the answer was beneath her.

  “Still,” Juniper persisted. “Even if that was true. You didn’t tell anyone what they were planning to do—you just let them go ahead.”

  Again Egg shrugged, as if to say, What would you expect me to do? “I did not agree with them,” she repeated aloud.

  “But you weren’t going to oppose your family,” said Juniper, beginning to understand. She couldn’t decide whether to be glad of Egg’s loyalty or furious that she hadn’t been loyal enough to stop Jess’s plan. “But—what was Jess’s plan, anyway? Are they working with the Mantis?”

  Egg shook her head and bent over her armband. “My father takes no sides in politics. Jess has always wanted to impress him. She has succeeded at last.”

  “And you?” Juniper asked, studying her.

  Egg took a deep breath. Juniper saw her hands twitching and wished she could communicate with her in sign language. But the girl persisted, writing on her arm a sentence at a time, then erasing and adding another when all had read. “My father is expert at not getting involved. He wants to stay removed from all parties so he is never tied to any one side. He follows the highest payout, nothing else. I do not follow his view.” The last line was underlined. Twice.

  “A spy acts alone?” Juniper said quietly.

  Egg flicked her gaze away.

  “What about that valerian stuff Jess used on me? And on Cyril,” Juniper added, seeing his scowl.

  Egg’s mouth twisted. She scratched some more, then raised her armband.

  “Scarlet valerian root tincture,” Juniper read. “One of my father’s bag of tricks. The boot, too. His heels are lined with lead. I am surprised they imprisoned him to begin with. He is rarely caught off guard.”

  “And so Jess helped get him out of there,” Juniper said, unnecessarily.

  Egg wrote on. “My sister has long seen me as her rival for our father’s affection. My father put a lot of time into my training. He did not see the same skills in Jess. He always brought me on his spying journeys, not her. So. Jess will be happy now. She has our father’s full attention. And I am free of it.”

  Juniper considered this.

  Egg went on. “Another thing: Jess was the one who drugged you. My father would never do something so foolish. The crown princess of Torr!” She rolled her eyes. “But Jess is . . . Jess. And once it was done, he chose to run. They both did.” She paused, then wrote with a flourish. She flung her arm up with a defiant toss of her head. “What my father and Jess did was wrong,” Juniper read. “What has befallen Torr is wrong. I am at your service.”

  Juniper looked up and met Egg’s gaze, which was proud and flint-hard. “Why?” Juniper said.

  After a moment, Egg’s fierce look collapsed. “I am”—she paused and looked around—“ready to stop acting alone. I like being part of a team.”

  “All right,” said Juniper. “All right.”

  “So what’s next, then?” asked Leena.

  “We head back to the dungeon, that’s what!” crowed Tippy.

  Root considered. “It’s daylight now, but come tonight, who’s to stop us? We can venture back and free the prisoners as planned.”

  Erick cleared his throat. He looked at the ground.

  “What now?” said Juniper.

  “The Everykey is gone,” said Erick at last. “Jess took it with her. And the whole bag of gnuts besides. We haven’t a way to get back into the dungeons without them.”

  This left Juniper speechless. She had taken the lock pick? That was sheer spite! “Well, can’t we find more gnuts? There’s got to be more around the palace.”

  “Sure,” said Erick. “We have the diagrams, and Egg has built it once, so it’s bound to be easier the second time around. But . . . ” He looked at Egg.

  “Too long,” Egg wrote. “No time.”

  “Quite right,” said Cyril. “Think about it: The Slippery Cewards left some gift-wrapped trouble back in the dungeons. That knocked-out guard? The missing prisoner? By now, the whole castle will be on the alert—not to mention up in arms trying to figure out what’s going on. There’s only one thing to do.”

  Cyril looked at each of them in turn, and Juniper hardest of all. “You all need to get out of the palace, quick as you can.”

  20

  JUNIPER STARED AT CYRIL. EGG NARROWED her eyes and the others started up some angry muttering, but Juniper cut them off. “Explain,” she said to Cyril. “What do you mean?”

  “My stepmother’s guards will be scouring the palace from top to bottom,” Cyril explained. “If they find you stowed away up here, it’s all over. Leena and Tippy and Egg are known, as am I. We can all slide back to our places, and we should do that right quick, to avoid suspicion. Plus, I need to get back to my father. I’ve been away from him long enough, and that devil of a doctor is due to arrive any time now. But the rest of you need to make yourselves scarce.”

  Juniper digested this. That left her and Erick and Root.

  “I can get you through the gates,” said Cyril, “but you should stay out for the day. By then the frenzy should have died down. I can unlock one of the smaller side gates this evening and leave a back window open for you in the summer kitchen.”

  “And we’re just supposed to let you jaunt on back to your mommy now, are we?” said Leena scornfully. “Trust that you’ve got our best interests in mind after you’ve conveniently parceled us out of your way?”

  Cyril rolled his eyes, but his hands were clenched. Juniper opened her mouth, then shut it again. What did she really think of this plan? To her surprise, the answer was: She trusted Cyril. She really did. She hadn’t been sure of it before, and certainly back in the Basin she hadn’t trusted him at all. He’d been right about that. But now he’d gone and come back, and he wanted to go again. And maybe it was just time or talk or stupidity, even. But this time she really did believe he was on their side.

  “I trust you,” Juniper blurted. The words rang out in the room, crisp and sharp-edged and very, very right. “I trust you, Cyril Lefarge. And I think your plan is a sound one. Necessary, even.” She turned to face the others. “You know what else I like about this? It gives everyone a day off. I mean it! How can we properly overthrow an enemy kingdom if we’re busy collapsing from stress and overwork?”

  “But time is everything right now,” said Erick.

  “I might not have chosen this particular time to go out for a break,” Juniper admitted. “But Cyril’s right—we can’t stay in the palace. If
we get caught now, the game’s over. So, we could hole up in the Pockets all day, sure. We could sit in there knocking our heads together and legging it from shadows. Or we could take a few hours to browse the festival, visit the food stalls, mingle. We’ll meet back in the Aerie tonight, and I guarantee by then we’ll have a new and better plan, and a groundswell of energy to carry it off.”

  • • •

  The necessary plan might have been out there somewhere, but over the rest of that day it proved wickedly hard to find. While they slipped through the Pockets and out into the balmy summer air, Juniper kept her eyes wide and her mind open. As she ruffled her short hair and pulled the brim of her cap down farther over her face, as she nibbled on a web of spun sugar, as she challenged Root against a ball-toss merchant, her mind never stopped whirring. Not for a single moment.

  “Over here!” Erick called. “Butterfight!”

  Juniper pushed through the crowds, with Root close behind her. The butterfight was a high point of the yearly Summerfest: One was held each day of the festival. Traditionally, the fighters had donned their customary rompers and greased themselves from head to toe in actual butter before stepping into the wrestling ring. But these days, lard was always used: It made for a greasier and more slippery finish, was less likely to go rancid in the heat, more cost-effective, and it left the wrestlers with a glowing complexion besides.

  The sun was high overhead. Just below it, the Glassroom gleamed like an evil second sun, though the king had retired behind his privacy curtains and could not be seen. The upper crown of the dome had been swung open for ventilation, but it still had to be stiflingly hot in there. How long could her father survive in such conditions? The beauty of the day turned to ash as Juniper fought back tears.

  She would get him out of there—she would.

  “And they’re down!” came the bellow from the butterfight ring. The crowd pushed in closer, then groaned back as a wave of warm lard splattered over the faces and fronts of those who had gone too close—which was nearly the whole crowd, since the ring was a wide oblong.