Staff & Crown

by W. R. Gingell

Melchior seemed to sigh. That was curious, thought Annabel, because he didn’t make a sound. It took her just a little bit too long to realise she had felt the sigh rather than heard it, and that this singular circumstance was because she was still pressed against his chest. She hastily pulled herself away and pointed at the open window. Melchior only looked at her in silence, and for a moment Annabel thought he really would kiss her. Then he brushed past her, as swift as he was silent, and vanished through the window in one liquid movement. Even Melchior as Blackfoot couldn’t have done it more elegantly.

  Annabel resisted the urge to clear her throat and went to see who was at the door. When she passed around the edge of the bookcase she could see that it was a junior, as she had thought; a young girl with a plain, unremarkable face and a well-kept but unremarkable blue smock. All the junior girls wore them, but they usually tried to give them some distinction—a white lace collar here, a brooch there, or a seam of embroidery in slightly lighter blue along the arms and collar.

  “Thought it was you!” said that unremarkable girl. When Annabel opened her mouth to answer, she added, “I don’t think it’s any use talking to me until you let me in, your highness. I can’t hear anything from inside the library; someone’s put a nice couple of security spells on it.”

  “Sorry,” said Annabel. “You’re invited in.”

  The girl must have been one of the ones who could read lips, because she tried one tentative step forward and the library allowed her in. “Very nice!” she said. “Good idea to use two spells; sort of a magical kill box that doesn’t hurt anyone but still stops the ones you don’t want from coming in.”

  “Yes,” Annabel agreed doubtfully. She wasn’t sure exactly what a kill box was, but she didn’t like to say so in front of an unremarkable junior.

  “Been watching you,” said that unremarkable junior, in an unemotional voice that made it impossible to tell if she was simply stating a fact, or offering a threat. “Funny thing; three of the footmen look up every time you come into a room. One of the masters as well.”

  “The Deportment Master is probably just making sure I haven’t eaten anything while I’m out of his sight,” muttered Annabel. “Are you here for the—”

  “That’s the thing,” the junior agreed. She was very clear and sure of herself—in fact, Annabel was just beginning to wonder if she really was a junior, despite her uniform, when the other girl asked, “Belle not here yet?”

  “Certainly I am here,” said Isabella’s voice calmly, from the window. “Now, Nan, did I or did I not see someone surreptitiously creeping out the window as I just happened to be passing by?”

  “Just happened?”

  “Naturally. One appreciates useful exits, but one tends to dislike them when other people can make use of them. Of course, that had nothing to do with my presence outside this window.”

  “Oh, didn’t it?” Annabel said. She was unwilling to discuss Melchior—unwilling, she found, even to think about him at the moment—with someone so sharp as Isabella looking on. “Some of the girls are arriving, and that person didn’t want to be seen.”

  “Good day, Alice,” Isabella said, wriggling energetically enough to drop through the window, bustle and all. “I trust you’ve been busy?”

  “A bit,” said the junior. “Got rid of the invitations for you.”

  “Very good. Anything else to report?”

  “Nothing important yet,” said Alice. “I’ll make a report at the end of the week. Got a few ideas.”

  “Ideas about what?” Annabel demanded.

  “About what’s going to happen tonight,” said Alice. “And some other things.”

  “You thought so, too?” Isabella asked, in astonishment. “Well done, Alice!”

  Annabel, her eyes narrowing, said, “So that’s why Melchior is poking about the halls today! He never said a word to me!”

  “Yes, they excused us from his class earlier,” Alice said, with some regret. “Shame. I like his class the best.”

  “Oh, can you do magic?”

  “No,” said Alice. “Just like to look at him, that’s all.”

  “We do that, too,” Annabel said, trying not to giggle. It wasn’t proper to giggle in front of juniors, or so the Deportment Master said. “It makes him squirm a lot, doesn’t it?”

  Alice blinked a little bit and said again, “No, I just like to look at him. A bit gorgeous, isn’t he?”

  “Oh,” said Annabel. “Well, his good-looking nose was definitely poking around the school earlier, so he must know there’s something up, too. What is going to happen tonight?”

  “Don’t know,” Alice said. “But the whole school has been unsettled all morning, and the Awesome Aunts are more nervous than usual. There’ve been footmen running here and there on the top floor. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they’re expecting an important guest. Very odd.”

  “Very odd,” agreed Isabella. “Oh well, we’ll just have to be attentive tonight, Nan. Goodness, is it the rest of them already? Let’s discuss this later.”

  Much to Annabel’s surprise, Isabella didn’t attempt any other security than the spells they had already put on the library. Nor did she seem particularly nervous about being interrupted by teachers during the course of her introductions. She outlined very clearly exactly what classes would be offered, and when, and although she didn’t give a place for the classes, Annabel was uneasy. She was still listening for the measured tread of the Awesome Aunts, in fact, when Isabella announced the next lesson time and place.

  “And there’s a reasonable piece of work accomplished!” said Isabella, after the last of the girls had gone.

  “Yes, but won’t they just tell the teachers?”

  “Perhaps they will,” Isabella acknowledged, with perfect cheerfulness.

  “All right,” Annabel said, with reluctant amusement. “I suppose you’ve got a plan for that, but I wish you wouldn’t look so gleeful about it! What’s next?”

  “Next, we wait for what’s going to happen tonight,” said Isabella decisively.

  Since she was certain that Isabella would wake her up in time for whatever was happening in Trenthams that night, Annabel went to sleep without thinking twice. If there really was something untoward happening that night, it certainly wouldn’t be happening first thing, and Annabel preferred to have as much sleep as possible. Great was her annoyance, therefore, to be woken from a sound, dreamless sleep at the early hour of midnight, by the repeated clattering of people passing in the hallway—carrying, if the sound was anything to go by, the contents of two full suites, escorted by a cohort of guards and a small circus.

  Annabel huffed a sigh at the ceiling and pulled her blanket over her head. What a ridiculous amount of noise! No wonder Melchior and Alice were aware that something was going on; everything else about the fact must have been as obnoxiously obvious as the noise outside her door.

  She was still trying to go back to sleep for another precious few minutes when Isabella tugged gently at her covers.

  Annabel groaned. “What?”

  “Something is happening!” Isabella said, helpfully pulling the covers away completely. “Just as Alice said. Come along, Nan!”

  “I already know,” Annabel said crossly. “They’ve been making enough noise to wake the dead! I think they want us to know!”

  “Well now,” said Isabella, stopping still. “There’s something in that, after all. There’s certainly no way that anyone on this floor won’t know that something’s afoot. Shall we go peep, anyway?”

  Annabel sighed gloomily and climbed out of bed. “Well, I’m awake now, so we might as well.”

  “That’s the spirit!” Isabella said encouragingly. “There’s no good in them making a lot of noise to be noticed if no one goes to notice it, is there? I don’t like to make people feel unappreciated.”

  “I don’t like to go without sleep,” said Annabel, to the soft darkness of the room, “but no one minds that, do they?”

  Isabella, at the
door, said soothingly, “Never mind, we have a half-holiday tomorrow, at any rate.”

  Annabel mumbled rebelliously to herself, but slipped her arms into a silky wrapper and stole after Isabella. “If we get caught—”

  “We’re not going to get caught.”

  “I know,” Annabel muttered, and grinned reluctantly. “It’s like you said: it’s no use catching us if they do want us to see something. But I’m cross and I’m going to complain anyway.”

  “Do you suppose,” murmured Isabella, as they stepped quietly from the door and stole together down the hallway, “that Melchior is somewhere about tonight?”

  “If he is, let’s sneak up on him,” said Annabel. “I want to make him jump. Actually, if it’s the only thing we really accomplish tonight, I’ll be happy with that.”

  Isabella giggled. “I could be satisfied with that, too, I think! Shall we give up our mission? They obviously want us to know; I’ve counted five noses poking out of doors so far.”

  “Oh well,” Annabel said, “If Melchior is out and about tonight, he’ll be where everything is happening anyway, so we might as well keep going.”

  “This way, I think,” said Isabella, beneath her breath, and then, hastily, “Careful! You’ll be seen!”

  “I don’t think so,” Annabel disagreed. “She’s being awfully careful not to see us, don’t you think?”

  That made Isabella giggle again. “She really is! Shall we have some fun tonight, Nan?”

  Annabel gazed at the single Awesome Aunt who was trying very hard not to see any of the hastily opening and closing doors around the next floor. “It’s insulting,” she said. “Actually. Who told them they could take us so lightly?”

  “Never mind, Nan,” Isabella said, her voice soft and amused. “No, do move with a modicum of care! It’s all very well to make a small miss-step or two, but we should keep it to a believable limit. It is always beneficial to be underestimated!”

  “That reminds me,” Annabel said, keeping to the less noisy edges of the hall behind Isabella. “Melchior is still keeping information from us. It’s all very well to say that it’s beneficial to be underestimated, but there’s too much of a good thing, isn’t there?”

  “In Melchior’s case, I’m not certain it’s because he underestimates you. Of course, he does; but I don’t think that’s why he keeps information from you. I’ve a feeling that the events in the castle may have shaken him more than you think.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “One gets the feeling, in fact,” pursued Isabella, smartly snapping shut a door that popped open too close for comfort, “that Melchior is concerned about you. He’s keeping things from you deliberately to prevent you from running into danger.”

  “Yes, that’s what Dannick said,” Annabel agreed. “But it’s still wrong, just the same. I ought to have a say in what dangerous things I—actually, it’s not even about having a say. If I’m going to be the queen, I should be told everything. It’s not Melchior’s decision to make. I could have him beheaded for treason.”

  “Probably not just yet,” Isabella said, dissolving into laughter at the bottom of the stairwell. “You have to be actually crowned first!”

  “Yes, that’s probably what Melchior thinks,” said Annabel darkly. “But I can kick him for treason, anyway. He won’t be able to do this sort of thing when I’m crowned.”

  “I’ve the fancy he’s trying to make sure you make it to the point of being crowned,” Isabella remarked. “Of course, I could have read him wrongly, but I really don’t think so. One of Melchior’s specialties is allowing the people he loves to face the things they need to face, while throwing his all at the things trying to stop them from doing so.”

  “A most astute observation, Firebrand,” said the curtains of the stairwell window, and pulled Annabel within their clutches.

  “Oh, really!” said Isabella’s voice, as Annabel made a small noise that was muffled against the softness of someone’s waistcoat.

  She pulled back crossly, and said, “Why are you always so perfectly dressed when you sneak out of your room at night?”

  “I’m shocked, Nan,” said Melchior, his eyes glinting down at her in the moonlight. “Are you suggesting you’d prefer me to be wearing less? I’m sure that’s not what a fine school like Trenthams is teaching you.”

  Annabel snorted softly. “What rubbish! Most of the girls sneak out to kiss the footmen.”

  “Is that so?” Melchior sounded thoughtful. “Well, if it comes to that, why are you always in your night-things when you sneak out?”

  There was a small tsk from outside, and Isabella said, “I shall leave you to discuss the matter in privacy. Good heavens!”

  Her shadow flitted lightly away up the stairs before the startled Annabel could protest that she had no intention of discussing anything with Melchior, in privacy or otherwise.

  Annabel snapped, “If I’m in my night things it’s more likely the Aunts will believe I’m sleepwalking.”

  “A very good bit of thinking,” Melchior said politely. He adjusted his hold on Annabel and said, “No, don’t wriggle, Nan; the curtains will move. There isn’t much room in here and I’d rather not be discovered at this point.”

  “They already know we’re here,” Annabel said exasperatedly. “They’ve been making so much noise that the whole school is probably awake by now.”

  Melchior ducked his head to murmur in her ear. “More quietly, if you please, Nan. I’m not talking about the circus that you followed here. I’m talking about the little byplay going on under cover of the circus.”

  Annabel leaned forward, pinching Melchior’s waistcoat between her fingers to keep her balance, and peered around the curtain edge closest to him. There, in the crack beneath Lady Caro’s door, was a softness of light creeping over the carpet. Not enough to make anyone think the lights were on, but certainly enough to make a curious passerby think that someone had a lamp or a small light spell. And as Annabel watched, leaning into the warmth of Melchior’s hands, that same door cracked open just enough for someone’s head to peek out and look carefully up and down the hall.

  He waited until she saw what he had seen, his hands warm beneath her elbows, before he said softly in her ear, “Now isn’t that more interesting, Nan?”

  Annabel looked up at him and found that he was smiling down at her. She drew a breath. “Much more interesting! When did you discover this?”

  “Just now,” Melchior murmured. “Why do you think I pulled you in here so swiftly?”

  “What about Isabella?”

  “There’s no room for the Firebrand.”

  “But what if she gets caught?”

  “The Firebrand can look after herself,” Melchior said firmly. “And I’ve no intention of spending the next half hour with my arms around her, if it comes to that.”

  “Half hour? Will the Lavender Aunt be in there that long?”

  “I’ve no idea,” Melchior said. “But they’ve been in there since before the noise began, so I think we can count on them being in there at least another half hour before they think it safe to come out.”

  “Wait, them? I only saw the Lavender Aunt.”

  “The Lavender Aunt seems to be the lookout,” Melchior said. “She’s not particularly good at it, so you’ll undoubtedly see her a few times more yet. More interestingly, Nan, there’s another girl in there—about your age, I should think, and dressed to the ears.”

  “The cheek of it,” Annabel said mildly. Now that she knew why she needed to keep still, she was quite content. It had been such a long time since Melchior had let her close enough—or for long enough—to feel the warm comfort of him. “Thinking we’re stupid enough to fall for something like that.”

  “You and the Firebrand were happily following the circus,” pointed out Melchior, with a softness of amusement to his voice. “Aren’t you grateful I chose to share with you what I found?”

  “You only did that because you were afraid the Lavender Aunt would po
ke out her head again while we were there and give you away,” said Annabel, but she said that mildly, too. She didn’t particularly feel like arguing with Melchior at that moment. “Oh, wait!”

  She had heard the soft click of the door opening again, she was sure. Annabel leaned forward to look through the curtain again, but Melchior was there first. She made a small pft of annoyance into his waistcoat and made space for herself by pushing him gently against the wall.

  Melchior’s startled face looked down at her and then, slowly, turned until he was looking back out at the hall. The Lavender Aunt was peeking from the door again, her eyes blinking too often; but this time, instead of closing the door after she had looked up and down the hall, she opened it wider.

  There was someone behind the Aunt; someone, Annabel could see even in the faint light, who was dressed in bright, expensive colours. She had elegant cheekbones, but that was all Annabel could make out in the dim light; the girl was painted very skilfully to make the best of that low light, but it gave Annabel very little idea of what her face really looked like. Trenthams didn’t encourage the kind of cosmetic usage that obscured the wearer’s face from recognition, so it was most likely that this girl had arrived today. She could have been around Annabel’s age, but Annabel didn’t recognise her from any of her classes—or any of those Isabella had seen fit to excuse them both from. She had the feeling she would have remembered those cheekbones.

  Annabel, watching the Aunt and her guest swiftly vanish into the darkness, whispered, “She must have arrived today. But if those were all her things, why did the Aunt want to hide her? If the things are here, someone must be with them.”

  Melchior didn’t reply, and when Annabel glanced enquiringly up at him, he was no longer looking through the curtain. Instead, he was gazing down at her, the faintest of frowns between his brows as if he, too, was trying to solve a perplexing puzzle.

  “Oh, sorry,” said Annabel, straightening. “But you were taking up all the space, and I wanted to see.”

  She would have disentangled herself from him, but Melchior’s arms tightened around her waist instead. He spun her in a flurry of wrapper and curtains, and nudged her back against the wall with rather more firmness than Annabel had shown to him.