Princess Juniper of Torr

by Ammi-Joan Paquette

  Then King Regis held out his arms to Odessa. “Mother,” he said.

  Odessa stepped forward to meet him. She clasped both his forearms with her own. “It has been long enough,” she said.

  That broke the dam, and in another minute, the two groups became one and swept away all obstacles in their path as they swirled into the castle grounds. Juniper noticed that Cyril made a beeline for Tania; she smirked and stored that fact up for later taunting.

  “Hey,” said Zetta, coming up behind Juniper and thumping her on the shoulder.

  “Hey, yourself,” said Juniper, grinning. “Is that the uncouth way rulers greet each other up in the mountains?”

  “It’s the only way between blood sisters,” said Zetta.

  “Not a bad speech you gave back there.”

  “You’re not the only one who can rile up a crowd,” Zetta retorted. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’ve missed you, Juniper, daughter of Alaina.”

  “And I you,” said Juniper. “Is Floris being taken care of?”

  “They’ve cleared out one of the stables for him to bunk in—can you imagine that? He’s like a pig in a wallow. I’ll have a hard time taking him home, I warrant. He’ll be putting on airs about roughing it in his musty cave from now on.”

  Juniper grinned. “Well, he deserves some pampering. I heard the Scion of Monsia wanted a personal visit.”

  “We categorically refused! Floris is not to be trusted around enemy invaders of any stripe.”

  “I fully agree,” said Juniper. “Oh, do tell me you will stay with us for a good while.”

  “We can’t be here long, I’m afraid. There is much to be done back home, and the snows come early in the Hourglass. Plus, I hear that a cowed set of Monsian soldiers will be heading back north any day now. I thought we might provide them with an escort. Keep an eye on the retreat, so to speak.”

  “Oh, I like that idea!” Juniper grinned wickedly. “I wonder if Floris might not put a little fire behind their wheels?”

  “I have a feeling he could be persuaded.”

  “Well, then, we’d better get busy enjoying the time we have together. And I can think of no better way to bond than you helping me plan a party.”

  “A party?”

  “The party to end all parties. Anyone who’s anyone in the whole Lower Continent will be here—haven’t you heard?” There should also, Juniper mused, be a feast. Food and a giant dance party. What could be better?

  Tomorrow was the final day of Summerfest, after all.

  30

  IN THE WAY OF ALL THE BEST EPIC FEASTS, THE festivities began in the morning and would stretch languorously through the whole day. A lavish breakfast buffet was set out in the dining room: quails’ eggs fire-roasted in their shells; soft cheeses whipped to fine peaks and served on wispy crackers; delicate rose petal jelly and carmine berry cobbler. Juniper had lost no time after the takeover in fully shedding her disguise—disposing of her sweat-scuffed trousers and triple-washing the last of the dark tincture out of her hair—and now she chose a flowing gown of palest green with matching orchid petal slippers. There wasn’t anything she could do about her shorn locks, but she found that she quite liked the way they curled softly around her ears, especially when paired with a jaunty mauve ribbon.

  All in all, she was feeling decidedly princess-like this morning. She pushed with purpose through the swinging doors into the bustling morning room, where the strangest assortment of guests milled awkwardly around one another. The Scion of Monsia was there, bulky and brusque in his ornate chain mail, which he had apparently chosen to wear since he was denied a personal guard. Zetta was there, along with Kohr and Mother Odessa, and several other prominent Anju, all wearing their lightest furs but still visibly sweating in the warm lowland weather. The Queen’s Basin crew was there, and inexplicably Team Bobcat wore their balancing outfits, colorful feathers and all. The sleeping potion had been washed away and the garments were spotless, so this was evidently a deliberate choice. Juniper couldn’t figure out what they were up to.

  Alta came up (dressed in her own nonbalancing clothes) and grinned at Juniper’s discomfiture. “They want to take their show on the road,” she confided. “They liked performing that much. They figure if they stay in costume, someone might invite them to a far-flung city as guests.”

  Juniper laughed out loud. “And you?” she asked. “Back to your britches, I see.”

  Alta grinned. “I finally got my sword and scabbard. You think I’m going to give it up for a balancing mat? Not likely. I’m your royal guard, be you queen or princess or anything in between. I’m not leaving your side.”

  “Nor I!” came a shrill voice, and a pair of arms wrapped around Juniper’s waist. “I’m your lady’s maid for life, Your Very Juniperness.”

  “Tippy!” Juniper exclaimed. “I never thanked you for taking little Artie to safety. You saved the day.”

  Then she saw who was behind Tippy: the tall, awkward figure of Tippy’s older sister, Elly. To Juniper’s surprise, Elly was now sporting enormous, bold-looking spectacles and a grin stretching from ear to ear.

  “Your Highness Princess Juniper,” said Elly, sinking into a curtsey. “I have so much to thank you for! You kept my rapscallion sister safe and brought her back to me even better than before, it would seem.”

  “You might almost say that I brought Princess Juniper,” said Tippy, but Elly wasn’t finished.

  “It makes what I have to say all the harder—oh, you remember how clumsy I was when I worked for you?” Elly laughed. “It seems so long ago, but I was always falling over myself every moment of the day or night. Well, it happened that I was set in a dungeon cell with Mistress Talia, the chief librarian. She gave me her spare eyeglasses, and oh! How the world has opened up to me!”

  Juniper digested this in silence. “They do, er, suit you,” she tried.

  “Not only that, but they have opened up a new profession. While confined within the cell, I began to study the mold formations along the dungeon walls. Do you know that in our cell space alone, I found more than eight separate types of mold?” Elly took a moment of silence to allow them to fully appreciate this. “All different! Can you imagine it?”

  “Mold,” said Juniper, not quite sure how to react.

  “Forgive me, Your Highness, only I am that passionate about my new calling. Don’t you see? I am to study molds! Such a field it is! I have already sent off my letter to the Academy, now that I am released, and my only regret is that I will no longer be able to serve you as a lady’s maid and to demonstrate to you my newly acquired powers of vision.”

  “Oh,” said Juniper. “Well. I’m sure we can arrange for something—someone—”

  Right on cue, Tippy flashed her hands out in a dramatic pose. “Maid hands!” she said, beaming. Suddenly, Tippy froze. Her eyes went wide, and she cocked her head. “Could it—is that—might it really—” Then she threw up her hands and let out a piercing shriek. “FLEETER!”

  Juniper turned. The door of the morning room stood ajar, and there, alone in a patch of sunlight, was Fleeter. The bedraggled cat was caked in mud. Half his fur stood on end, and the other half looked to have been chewed down to the pink skin of him. But his eyes were bright and his tail was straight, and when he saw—or heard—Tippy’s call, he was across the room like a shot.

  “Tippy, no! The thing must be infested!” Elly yelled. But it was no use. Tippy and Fleeter were together, and nothing would to pry them apart.

  “Impressive,” said Egg, then wrote on her armband, “Fleeter has never returned to a person before. Only a place.”

  Then Juniper remembered that on that last night, before Jess had taken Fleeter with her to the dungeons, Tippy had been feeding him some of that special mush that they used to mark where he should carry his messages. Tippy had only been giving him a snack; it looked like instead of bonding to a
place, this time, Fleeter had bonded to Tippy’s own self.

  “Do you miss your father and sister a lot?” Juniper asked Egg. Amongst all of these joyous reunions, Egg’s lack was glaringly obvious.

  Egg bit her lip, then worked with her chalk for a moment. “I do. But I’m sure I will see them again. And meanwhile, I seem to have found a second family.” The shy smile she gave Juniper warmed her right down to her toes.

  As she and Egg moved off together toward the food table, Juniper looked around for the rest of Queen’s Basin. There was Root, wedged in a corner next to a huge bowl of—what else?—hazelnuts. He was unwrapping a small parcel, while Oona looked on shyly. He pulled away the paper to reveal a fancy nutcracker, polished and gleaming. His face went scarlet with joy, and hers flushed to match. Then they both dug in to the nut bowl together.

  At the opposite end of the room was Erick. He had two large volumes stuffed under one arm and held a third with a finger marking the place. But instead of reading, he was speaking animatedly to a tall man in a soldier’s uniform—his father, the newly released and reinstated captain of the guard. At a key point in the story (their adventures in retaking the castle, no doubt), Erick had to set his books down and use both hands to illustrate some particularly active moment. It looked like father and son had found a way to connect at last.

  The others were there too: Toby and Sussi sitting companionably together on an armchair; Leena studying her overstuffed food plate with a notepad in one hand as she appeared to conduct some taste-test or other; Filbert and Roddy horsing around on the edges of the room—were they actually arm-wrestling? Good grief! Paul was studiously ignoring his straight-backed, upright parents and their matched disapproving frowns. Well, not everybody could have a happy ending. She hoped that every one of her crew was in a better place than they’d been at the start of the summer, even in the smallest of ways.

  But there was somebody missing.

  And then there he was. Cyril burst into the room looking unusually disheveled. He spotted Juniper and straightened, but that did nothing for his creased clothing and bloodshot eyes.

  “Cyril, what pit did you fall into?” Juniper asked, concerned. She reached up and picked something out of his hair. It was a very small sock.

  “Um,” Cyril said. “Artie had a rough night.”

  “Artie?” said Juniper. “You’re watching your brother now?”

  Cyril shrugged. “Who else is going to do it? I think the little tyke’s had enough bad parenting for a while, don’t you?”

  Juniper shifted uncomfortably. “Does he have any idea about—you know, his mom?”

  “He’s way too young for that. And my father will be well again soon. Plus”—Cyril grinned—“she’ll still get to have some part in his life. As it were, ah, remotely.”

  Juniper couldn’t suppress a small giggle. Malvinia the Mantis, traitor and usurper, would stay locked safely in the castle’s dungeons. But lest she suffer too much boredom, King Regis had decreed that she give much-needed daily help to the palace laundries. Now the personal touch she hadn’t been willing to give her little boy could go into his messy play clothes, at least.

  “Still,” Juniper said, “it’s got to be a lot of work for you in the meanwhile.”

  “Tosh!” Cyril stiffened his spine, and before Juniper’s eyes, all the tiredness fell away. “He’s a charmer right to the core. Kept me up till the wee hours telling stories. I’ll get him to turn in earlier next time, just . . . ” He smiled wide. “We were having a pretty decent time.”

  Juniper goggled. “Who even are you, and what have you done with my nemesis?”

  Cyril grinned and punched her hard in the arm. “Always lurking when you least expect it. That’s the way of nemeses.”

  “Is that so, Ceepee?” she said pointedly.

  “Oh, no you don’t! That name is entirely off-limits.”

  “Is it really?” Juniper mused. “Because I’m thinking of a new chant for my croquet game. It goes like this: ‘Ceepee one, and two, and three! Ceepee loves to—’ Ahh . . .” Juniper ducked Cyril’s body block and ran for the gardens.

  She’d had enough of being a queen for just this moment. Today, she was happy being just a princess, a cousin, and a friend.

  • • •

  The party began in the morning and built slowly throughout the day, but really came alive by high noon. By then, the kitchen staff had finished setting up the long row of tables that lined the entire walkway, from the fountain clear to the front gates. Those gates were thrown open on the stroke of twelve o’clock. The enthusiastic—and exceedingly hungry—masses poured in and fell upon the tables, which had been heaped with all sorts of treats and delights.

  When the food rush slowed at last, King Regis took the stage. He had a speech prepared, but before he could get a single word out, the cheering started. It started, and it did not stop, rising from the throats and hearts of the Torrean people, from youngest to oldest, all chanting and clapping and howling their approval.

  Their king was back in his palace. Torr was safe.

  He got their attention at last, when hoarse voices cracked and thirsty throats paused for another swig of punch. Then he cleared his throat again, and his booming voice echoed out over the entire courtyard. “My people,” he said, “my beloved people.” His voice broke, and he bowed his head.

  The king never did finish his speech. But his sentiment could not have been clearer. He spent the rest of the afternoon mingling with the crowd, patting babies’ heads and squeezing farmhands’ shoulders, answering questions and giving reassurances. Juniper stayed right by his side, ready to spirit him away at any sign of weakness, but he stayed strong and unflagging. Midway through the afternoon, a familiar face pulled out of the crowd and came to stand before them. It was the farmwife to whom Juniper had given the coins. Her face was bright, and her gaze on Juniper was knowing.

  “Your Majesty,” the woman said, bowing low before the king, then curtseying before Juniper, “Your Highness. I am glad the both of you are looking out for us in Torr. We couldn’t ask for better.”

  The king turned an inquiring gaze on Juniper as the woman moved away, and Juniper smiled. “Someone we met on our adventures.”

  Her father’s gaze turned thoughtful. “Speaking of adventures,” he said, “wherever did you get that cloak? It looks somehow . . .”

  She said, “It was Mother’s,” at the very same moment he said, “Familiar.”

  “Ah,” he said.

  “You recognize it.”

  He squared his shoulders. “I do. And there’s a story there. I know . . .” He paused, seemed to reach inside himself for strength. “Your mother’s passing was very hard on me. I know I didn’t handle it in the best way—locking away all her belongings and never speaking of her. It’s just, she meant so much to me.”

  “Don’t, Papa. I understand—truly.”

  “No, I need to say this. I owe her more than to let her memory die away like this. So, yes, there is a story to this cloak. I don’t have time to tell the whole of it now.” He waved a hand at the crowds patiently awaiting their turn to speak to him. “But one of these days—maybe tomorrow, even—remind me, and I’ll tell you a story. I’ll tell you about how a young prince climbed a high mountain to live alone in the wild for a time; how instead of solitude he found the most beautiful girl he had ever known, and the kindest, and the bravest, and the wisest; how they fell in love, but secretly, for neither of their people would have understood.” He smiled in remembrance. “That may have been the best summer of my life.”

  “When you were up in the Basin!” Juniper breathed. “You did build that platform up the Great Tree, didn’t you?”

  “You found my tree fort!” For a second, King Regis looked like a boy again, all impish flair. “We spent many hours together hidden in those branches, your mother and I. But the summer ended, and I had
to go. After I got home, I had this cloak made specially for her: the finest weave and the newest, most precious fibers. I sent a messenger to bear it to her along with a declaration of my love and an invitation for her and her people to come to visit us in Torr.”

  Juniper’s eyes opened wide. “That was what brought the party of delegates who came afterward, expecting to make a peace treaty. But instead . . .”

  “Instead, Alaina chose to stay with me. She was sure that her mother—the chief of the Anju—would come around in time, that this union would bind our people together for good. But Odessa wouldn’t do it. And by the time she changed her mind, it was too late.”

  It was a sad story, but hearing it filled an empty place in Juniper’s heart. Just knowing made everything so much better.

  She squeezed her father’s hand. “I suppose you two have some catching up to do.”

  “I suppose we do. I’ve asked Odessa to stay awhile, and she’s agreed. I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

  Juniper felt a swell of joy inside her. “You thought right.” And was the story truly sad, when followed through to its end? The torrent of pain had rushed through, for sure. But then it had gone, and in its place had grown up all of this new life she saw around her: her father, her people, her newly reconciled grandmother Odessa and all of the Anju, finally brought together just as her mother had always dreamed.

  It can take time to grow a dream, Juniper thought. But every hard step along the way is worth it when the bloom springs to life at last.

  Juniper had left Torr to follow her dream and had come to find that her dream had burst out from inside her very self, and followed her back. Maybe it took going away before you could properly find your true home. Now she saw it all—her father, her home, her people—in a completely new light. And they were beautiful. She could not have asked for a single thing more in the world.

  And so she kissed her father on the cheek and ran off to join her new group of friends—not subjects, not a one of them, but true friends.