Twinchantment

by Elise Allen

  “Yes,” the girls chorused, and Sara was relieved to see the tips of Dad’s mustache perk up as he smiled the littlest bit. Then he raised a single eyebrow and turned to Sara.

  “One more favor, and I mean this especially for you,” he said. “No breaking the rules. No trips through the palace grounds, no slipping away from the servants…do nothing alone. Stay in your room whenever you can, otherwise stay with Primka, or Royal Guards, or servants we trust. Surround yourself with others. Don’t avoid the Keepers, but don’t ever be alone with one. Not until we know who’s on our side and who is not. Understood?”

  It didn’t take any prodding to get Sara to keep her distance from the Keepers. “Yes,” she said.

  Flissa nodded solemnly.

  “Okay.” Their dad smiled and squeezed their shoulders. “I love you both very much, you know that?”

  Sara smiled back. “We know.”

  “We love you too,” Flissa said.

  Their father smiled wider and drew them each in for a huge hug—first Flissa, then Sara. He always gave strong bear hugs, but Sara felt him hold her a little tighter than usual, and when they pulled away, he sniffled and his eyes were bright.

  “Primka,” he said, “please take the girls back to their room. Katya and I need to discuss some plans.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” Primka chirped. She fluttered to the girls to lead them out, but Flissa ignored her and moved closer to the bed. She crawled onto it and stretched out, right next to Queen Latonya. Sara ached to join her, and even took a step forward, then she glanced at her mother’s eyes—the eggy yellowy-whites with only the eeriest hint of irises that wouldn’t look her way.

  Sara couldn’t do it. She was afraid to get any closer.

  Flissa clearly didn’t have the same problem. Moving impossibly slowly and gently so she wouldn’t disturb their mother at all, she smoothed Mom’s stringy, now-even-whiter hair back from her face, then whispered softly in her ear, “I love you, Mother. Sara and I both do. So very much.”

  She gently kissed the queen’s shriveled cheek, and Sara could almost feel the sensation on her own lips—skin so wasted and fragile it could crumble to dust at the slightest touch. She shuddered.

  Flissa rolled off the bed without even moving the mattress, then turned to Sara. With only a look, she asked, You?

  Sara shook her head imperceptibly. She stayed rooted and forced on a smile. “Love you, Mom. We’ll see you soon. Love you so much.”

  The queen didn’t move. No twitch, no glance, no sign that she had any idea they were there. Sara stared. Would this be her last image of her mom? She didn’t want it to be. She tried to picture Queen Latonya sitting at her ivory-and-gold dressing table, combing her curls with short, firm strokes, or filling the room with a glowing smile as she showed off a new riding outfit.

  She painted the scene in her head, but she couldn’t get their mom into it. It was this wasted, openmouthed shell every time.

  Primka fluttered into her field of vision and mercifully scattered her thoughts.

  “Come, girls,” she said gently. “Let’s go.”

  Neither she nor Flissa said a word as they followed Primka out the door and down the hall. To avoid her thoughts on the way, Sara scanned the first hanging tapestry she saw and picked out a tiny image all the way off to one side: a small child kneeling in the grass, his face hidden in his hands. For the entire walk down the hall, Sara imagined the child’s life in detail, and every second of the day that brought him to the moment captured in the artwork. She was still gratefully lost in that world when Primka delivered them to their room.

  “I’ll come back,” Primka said. “I have some questions for Katya and your father. You’re good to stay here for now.”

  She zipped back through one of the many tiny chinks between the wall and ceiling through which she preferred to make her entrances and escapes.

  “Sara?”

  Sara snapped out of her daydream and looked at Flissa. She still stood in the entrance to the room, wiping her hands on the sides of her dress. Sara stepped closer and saw Flissa’s upper lip was beaded in sweat.

  “What is it?” Sara asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know what to do. I mean, I think I know what to do, but—”

  Flissa’s chest heaved like she was having trouble taking a breath. Sara’s own heart quickened, and she lunged to take Flissa’s hand but tripped and sprawled onto the floor. In a heartbeat, Flissa was down there next to her.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I am now. You’re breathing.” Sara rolled over and mirrored Flissa’s kneel. She took her hand. “Tell me.”

  Flissa nodded. “I think Father’s wrong and Katya’s right. I think Gilward is hiding back in the Twists.”

  Sara’s face contorted. “Why?”

  “It’s the smartest thing to do. And he’s smart. He tried to hurt us and Mother before we were born, and he’s waited twelve years to do it again. On Ascension Day, just like the first Dark Magic Uprising. That’s an enormous undertaking—one he wouldn’t risk by making mistakes—and yet he cursed Mother early, to send a warning and scare us.”

  “Yeah. And it worked.”

  “Yes,” Flissa agreed, “but look at the consequence: Father’s on alert and going after him. Gilward had to know that would happen.”

  “Maybe he did,” Sara said, “and he thought whatever Keepers he’s working with could hide him. But they won’t. You heard Dad. He and his Guards’ll tear Kaloon apart until they find him.”

  “But, Sara, that’s the point! Gilward and the Keepers will expect that. They’ll expect Father will assume Gilward would want to stay close and hidden to prepare for the Uprising. They’ll expect him to turn Kaloon upside down. And they’ll expect him to think that never in a million years would anyone go back into the Twists unless they had to.”

  Sara took a second to process everything Flissa said. She slid off her knees and onto her bottom. “So…you think Gilward went back to the Twists and will hide there until Ascension Day.”

  Flissa nodded, paler now. “And by that time, Mother will be gone. And Father will be heartbroken and tortured because he couldn’t save her. So even though we’ll all know it’s coming, he’ll be even less prepared when the dark mages come after us.”

  Sara’s head hurt. Everything Flissa said made sense.

  “They’re messing with him on purpose,” Sara said, thinking it out. “Gilward’s luring him out on a mission that’s doomed to fail.”

  Flissa nodded. “Which means Father won’t find him in the next forty-eight hours—less than forty-eight hours—and…”

  She didn’t need to finish. Sara knew what she meant.

  “Then we have to tell Dad—now! He has to change his plan!” Sara leaped to her feet so quickly she stepped on her hem and tumbled immediately back down. Flissa grabbed her arm.

  “No,” she said. “He won’t do it. He won’t believe us. He didn’t believe Katya when she said it either.”

  “But if you explain it the way you explained it to me—”

  “He still shouldn’t go into the Twists!” Flissa cried. She released Sara’s arm and wiped her hands on her dress. “If Father’s right, and the Keepers are involved, he can’t disappear like that. If he does, they’ll know what he’s doing. They’ll go after him.”

  “But if he doesn’t go to the Twists, then Mom—”

  Now it was Sara who couldn’t say the words.

  “It doesn’t have to be that way,” Flissa said. “I think…I think…I think…” She bit her lip and looked up at the ceiling, then said, “The coin. I need the coin. Open my locket, please. My hands are too sweaty, I can’t.”

  “Flissa, why? What do you—”

  “Please!” Flissa begged.

  Sara didn’t hesitate again. She hooked a finger through the chain around Flissa’s neck and tugged out the locket, then opened it up and pulled out the coin. “Can you tell me what king and queen are?”

  F
lissa shook her head. “I know what they are. Just flip it.”

  Sara flipped the coin. She tried to catch it, but it bounced off her hand and onto a wadded-up gown she’d worn yesterday. Together, Sara and Flissa crawled over to it.

  “Queen,” Sara said. “So what does that mean?”

  Flissa folded her legs. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, she seemed oddly calm. Pale, with a livid flush on her cheeks, but calm. One more deep breath, then she finally spoke.

  “It means I have to go to the Twists.”

  Her voice was clear and strong, but the words made no sense to Sara at all.

  “You have to what?!”

  Flissa shrugged. She took the coin back from Sara and slipped it back into her locket. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. I’m strong. I can fight. I’m quick on my feet. I’ve read all about the Twists and magic, and you can still be Princess Flissara while I’m gone, so no one will know. I’ll find Gilward, bring him back, and make him take the curse off Mother.”

  “How?!” Sara exploded. “How would you make Gilward do anything? He’d just curse you too. How would you even get to him? How would you even get into the Twists? How would you know where to find them? Isn’t the entrance a huge Keeper secret?”

  “It’s a magical entrance,” Flissa said. “I’ve read about it. It moves, and only the Keepers know where the entrance will be and when.”

  “Uh-huh. And that dress you’re wearing is red, not yellow. You’re not a Keeper.”

  “No,” Flissa agreed, “but I imagine I could find the entrance by asking someone in the Underground.”

  “Someone…underground?” Sara asked, imagining a world of mole people in tunnels beneath the earth.

  “Not living underground, the Underground,” Flissa clarified. “It’s in history books. The Underground is a group of people here in Kaloon who don’t like the Keepers. They want mages and non-mages to live together again, and work secretly toward that purpose. In the generation after King Lamar, Grosselor discovered the Underground, which he said was filled with dark mages, so he had them publicly executed and kept their bodies on display in the palace courtyard—”

  “Ew!” Sara recoiled. “That’s horrible.”

  “Yes, but they were dangerous, so Grosselor had to send a warning to stop other dark mages.” She frowned and bit her lip. “At least, Grosselor said they were dangerous.” She shook her head, then continued. “Either way, most of the books say that Grosselor’s actions ended the Underground for good, but others say it still exists. Just smaller, and deeper in hiding. And the books say anyone suspected of Underground ties should be turned over to the Keepers immediately.” Flissa frowned again. “Which I guess is why they’re so deep in hiding.”

  “Exactly,” Sara said. “So how would you find them? It’s not like you can just ask around.”

  “That’s true,” Flissa agreed. She reached up and twirled the end of a braid. “Maybe I could ask Katya or Primka? They’re magic. They’d have a reason to want magic back in Kaloon.”

  Sara snorted. “You’ve heard Primka talk. She’s for the Keepers of the Light. And Katya might not love them, but she always says we have to do what they say. And even if she was with the Underground, you really think she’d help us get to the Twists?”

  Flissa frowned. “Us?”

  “Well, yeah! You really think I’d let you do something this nuts without me?”

  Sara watched Flissa’s emotions pull her face in a million directions.

  “No,” Flissa said. “I mean, I want you to go, but it’s not safe. And if we’re both gone, there’s no Princess Flissara. People will notice. Father will notice. And he might come after us and then—”

  “Dad will be way too busy looking for Gilward here, and Katya will be taking care of Mom. Primka will notice, but she won’t want the Keepers to get suspicious, so she’ll tell Katya we’re sick or something. And we won’t be gone long. We have to be back with Gilward in less than forty-eight hours, right?”

  Flissa looked at her hopefully. “You really want to go?”

  “I am going. If you go, I go. That’s it.”

  Flissa’s eyes watered, but she smiled. “I know I shouldn’t be glad—it’s too dangerous—but I am. I honestly don’t know if I could do it without you.”

  “I honestly don’t know if we can do it together,” Sara admitted. “How’ll we find someone we can ask about the Underground without them reporting us to Dad, or Primka, or the Keepers? And who would have any idea about Gilward or how we could find him? Or how we could get him to come back with us instead of killing us on the spot?”

  Flissa didn’t answer. She tucked a braid end in her mouth and sucked on it. Sara drummed her fingers on the floor and blew through her lips…then she leaped to her feet.

  “I’ve got it! I’ve-got-it-I’ve-got-it-I’ve-got-it! I know who to ask!”

  “Who?”

  “Don’t you remember who I met today? Galric! Gilward’s son! Even if he doesn’t know about the Underground, he’s not like us—he could ask and find out! And if we’re with him and we see Gilward, we’ll be safe! Gilward won’t curse his own son. He’ll listen to Galric. It’s perfect!”

  Flissa wrinkled her nose. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes!” Sara pulled Flissa to her feet and stared into her sister’s eyes. “Don’t you see? Galric can help us get into the Twists and make Gilward turn back the curse. He’s the one!”

  The next two hours were a flurry of planning, mixed with a lifetime of torturous waiting. Per their father’s explicit orders, they couldn’t leave their quarters except for royal engagements, and Princess Flissara’s next appointment was a horseback ride with Princesses Blakely and Ivamore, visiting from Winterglen. In a way, it seemed silly to obey this rule when they were about to disobey a million others, but if they wanted to save their mother, they couldn’t arouse anyone’s suspicions until the plan was in motion and they were already in the Twists.

  As the equestrian of the pair, Flissa had to handle this first step of the plan, even though she wished she could hand it to Sara. At least they had the time to go over again and again what Flissa would say and what responses she might get in return so she’d be prepared. Flissa also took the opportunity to dive under her bed and retrieve some of the books about magic and the Twists she’d found in the library. She flipped through them with Sara and tried to share everything she knew. She wasn’t positive Sara was paying close attention to any of it, but the studying made Flissa feel better.

  By the time Primka came in to get Flissa laced into her riding boots, pants, and jacket, Flissa was ready.

  Except her hands were sweating, and she had to keep wiping them on her wool jodhpurs.

  Sara sat on her bed drawing. Flissa couldn’t believe her sister seemed so relaxed, but of course that was part of the plan too. Flissa and Sara had to act normal so Primka wouldn’t be suspicious.

  At least, as normal as anyone would be knowing their mother was less than forty-eight hours from death and a cadre of dark mages was planning a giant uprising that would end their lives.

  Sara was fine, though. She seemed thoroughly engrossed in her artwork, and only every so often glanced up to meet Flissa’s eyes. An unspoken:

  You okay?

  Yes. I’m okay.

  They probably didn’t have to be so careful. Primka herself was a bit of a wreck. She mis-hooked and re-hooked Flissa’s clothes ten different times, and kept a running monologue all the way.

  “It’s good you’re going out,” she said. “It’s important to keep up a good front. Your father has already spoken in secret to the Royal Guard members he can trust, and they’re hunting down Gilward here in the kingdom, so it’s only a matter of time before they find him. Your father also sent word to Grosselor that the queen is ill and might be out of sight for a couple of days, so that’s good. Soon everyone will know, and whoever’s behind—well, what happened—will feel like their plan is working. The
y’ll let their guard down, and it’ll be even easier for your father and his men to find and defeat them.”

  Primka knotted the last lace on Flissa’s jacket. “There. You look beautiful. No one would ever know anything is out of sorts in the least.”

  Flissa turned to the mirror. Her hair was tucked into a braided bun beneath her riding cap. Her jodhpurs slid smoothly into her tall riding boots, and her jacket buttoned neatly over a simple cotton top. It was one of the outfits Flissa felt most comfortable in, and she breathed in the image so it might calm the uneasy churning of her stomach.

  “Thank you, Primka,” she said. “You did a perfect job as always.”

  “You’re welcome. Now please listen for the bells. When the quarter hour sounds, you’ll head out of the Residence. I’ve arranged for Mitzi to escort you downstairs. I know how much you enjoy her company.”

  Flissa winced, and the pink feathers on Primka’s cheeks grew pinker.

  “Oh, no.” She fluttered in place, clearly upset. “It’s Sara who enjoys Mitzi’s company. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I would never—”

  “It’s fine, Primka,” Flissa said. “I like Mitzi well enough. She’ll be great.”

  “It’s just that I’m upset. Which I know is silly, because of course you’re her daughters and you’re far more upset, but the idea of a second Dark Magic Uprising—”

  Primka’s eyes widened. She covered her beak with both wings and plopped to the ground, landing on a pile of Sara’s laundry.

  Sara leaned down off her bed and scooped Primka up. “You can talk about it in front of us. Dad already did. It’s okay.”

  Primka nodded, wings still over her beak. Then she released them just the littlest bit. “Okay, then. Flissa, don’t go anywhere if Mitzi’s not there to escort you. Come get me instead. I’ll be in—I’m just going to—I’ll be—”