Mae shivered. “This enchanted castle,” she corrected Poppy. “Fifteen if we include the queen, Folkvarus, and Gilda.”
Poppy sank to the floor in front of the hearth. “Hopefully the queen will return to normal when she doesn’t receive any more ‘medicine.’ We just have to figure out a way to convince her that it is for her own good.”
Mae dropped down beside Poppy and drew out the apples and muffins in her pockets. “I always think better on a full stomach.”
“I didn’t have much room to stow away food because I had this in my pocket still.” Poppy drew out her lopped-off braid and ran her hands down the silky hair.
Mae stared at the ropelike lengths. “That’s it!” She snapped her fingers and reached for the braid.
“What’s it?”
“I’ve been trying to figure out just how to get the message to the Wedge.”
“And?”
“Your hair,” Mae said as she untied the ribbon. “We can make a rope collar out of it.”
Poppy stared at Mae. “And?”
“Leif will know it’s yours,” Mae insisted. “And he’ll know that you’d never cut your hair unless you were in trouble.”
Mae unwound the braid and separated the chunks. Then she began to rebraid the strands into a smaller rope. Mae’s eye strained at the work as the room got darker. She took her wand out of her pocket and pointed it at the hearth. “Smelder!”
A small fire popped and crackled to life, providing just enough light for Mae to finish braiding.
“What if the queen wakes up?” Poppy asked.
“Hopefully she won’t,” Mae said as she pocketed her wand. “The hearth should be cold by morning if we don’t feed it. Here, hold this.” She handed the braid to Poppy, then took her wand and the carving from her pocket. “Put the braid on the floor.”
Poppy laid the braid in a ring on the floor and Mae settled the owl in the middle of it. She laid her wand against the carving, closed her eyes, and pictured the Wedge. She tried to think of what it might look like from an owl’s perspective. She held the image of the forest and the river, and the enchanted bridge with the four raven sentinels. Then she pictured Leif fishing by the river, romping in the pumpkin patch, and slopping the pigs on his farm. The she imagined her house with Aletta busy in the kitchen. She could see her through the crisscrossed leading on the window.
Poppy gasped and let out a little giggle. Mae heard the flapping of wings, and she opened her eyes. The yellow stare of a great horned owl looked back at her. Mae ran her hand over the owl’s smooth feathers. “Thank you, friend.”
The owl made a deep hooting sound, her chest moving in and out quickly with her call. She opened her beak and her little tongue panted like a dog’s. Mae checked to make sure the braided loop wasn’t too tight around her neck. Poppy was hesitant to touch the bird, but finally she reached out and ran her fingers down her back. The owl shook her body and stretched her wings. Her head turned toward the broken window.
Mae offered the owl her arm, and she flapped up on her shoulder instead. She was heavy! Poppy grabbed Mae’s arm and helped her stand up, then rushed to the window to pull out the material she’d stuffed in the hole, glancing at the ruffling bed curtains as the cold wind rushed into the room.
“Hurry!” Mae whispered. The last thing she wanted was for Huldfrejya to wake.
The owl hopped from Mae’s shoulder to the windowsill. Thrusting her head through the broken pane, she scooted out of the castle and dove from the wall, spread her wings, and soared. Mae and Poppy watched her glide through the air until they couldn’t distinguish her from the trees anymore.
Poppy had started to shove the material back into the broken pane when they heard the pounding of hooves below. Geindride was riding a horse out of the castle yard, in the same direction the owl had just flown.
“I hope he doesn’t see our owl,” Poppy said.
Mae’s arms felt like lead, and her eyes were sandy with sleep. She stuffed the remainder of Poppy’s hair into the back of the queen’s wardrobe just in case they might need it. Then she lay on the cold floor. She didn’t even have the energy to take off her boots.
She felt Poppy snuggle next to her and pull something over them before she fell asleep.
Chapter 11
Mae awoke with a start. Huldfrejya was looming over her, a deep scowl on her face. Fangs gleamed out from under her top lip. Mr. Whiteknoll stood hunched next to her, his hands clasped in front of him, nose nervously twitching. Mae shook Poppy’s shoulder.
“I shouldn’t have to get out of bed for my breakfast!” the queen snarled.
Mae scrambled to her feet. “I’m sorry, miss. I overslept.”
“Happenies are the laziest bunch of no-good servants one can acquire.”
Poppy rose and dusted off the knees of her britches and the front of her coat.
The queen smirked and traveled in a slow circle around the girls. “So, you are still concerned about your vanity?”
Poppy looked up and her hand dropped slowly. “No, miss.”
“Take off your coat.”
Poppy pulled her arms around herself protectively. “But then I’ll be cold.”
“The cold is a good reminder of your new place in the world. Take it off,” Huldfrejya demanded.
Poppy’s fingers shook as she worked at the buttons. A tear made a track down her grimy face as she held the colorful coat out to the queen, who tossed it at Mr. Whiteknoll. His eyes brightened as he held the garment. He looked at the girls, a faint light of recognition shining in his eyes. He nodded, the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly.
“Toss that pile of rags in the dungeon,” the queen commanded.
“No!” Poppy’s hand reached out. “No, Mr. Whiteknoll. You made that coat especially for me… Don’t—don’t you remember?”
Mr. Whiteknoll turned and shuffled out of the room. As the door whooshed open, he winked over his shoulder.
“Now that we’ve gotten that taken care of,” Huldfrejya said, pointing to Poppy, “you may go to the kitchens.”
“By-by myself?” Poppy stuttered. Her hands were clenched tightly at her sides.
“Of course by yourself! You two aren’t attached at the hip, are you?”
“No, miss.” Poppy headed for the door, looking over her shoulder at Mae. Fear was making her face pinch up as though she’d eaten a sour lemon.
“And you, Curly Top,” the queen said. “I think you’re ready for some dungeon duty.”
“The dungeon!” Mae shrieked.
The door swung open and Folkvarus stood in the opening. He was holding a steaming bowl of oatmeal topped with apples and spices. Mae’s nose twitched as she sniffed the aroma of cinnamon goodness. Folkvarus set the bowl on the table as the queen settled herself in a chair.
“Come with me,” Folkvarus said to Mae. He led her out of the room.
“Be sure to have her back to help me dress for dinner, Folkvarus!” The queen’s screeching voice trailed them into the hallway.
“Where are we going?” Mae asked.
“Keep your questions for now,” Folkvarus said.
They walked in silence down the hallway, through the empty Great Room, and to the stairs Mae had seen Geindride climb last night.
“This isn’t the way to the dungeon,” Mae said.
Folkvarus gave her a scathing look and Mae clammed up.
The stairway was dark. The walls were covered in climbing ivy and the tower was leaning precariously. The stairs creaked under their feet, and dust escaped from the stones of the tower as they made their way up.
At the top of the stairs, they paused at a small landing. Mae peeked around Folkvarus. The iron keyhole hung haphazardly in the door that led into the tower room. The wooden casing of the door was riddled with rot. Cold air streamed out of the large holes, as if someone had kicked it in some time in the past. Folkvarus pushed the door open and Mae followed him.
All of the windows were broken, and the same ivy
that choked the stairwell had invaded the tower room. It wound around the circular space and tangled around the legs of the trestle table Callum had been laid upon. He was so still Mae that thought he was dead. With careful steps, she approached him. She shook as she reached out to caress his bearded cheek. He was cold, but not death-cold, which meant he was still alive.
A furry head poked out from under his arm.
“Trina!” Mae said. “So this is where you’ve been!”
The little squirrel nodded. Her lip trembled and tears filled her eyes. She ran her furry paw under her nose.
“Why did you bring me here?” Mae asked.
“Because the queen ordered me to,” Folkvarus said.
“But why?”
“I suppose she wanted you to lose hope before I took you into the dungeon, where you would lose even more hope,” Folkvarus said. He sidled up next to her, his hands clasped behind his back. “But I brought you here because it was the one place I was sure we would not be overheard, and I’m ordering you not to lose hope.”
Mae stared at Callum. His lips were blue with cold, as was the tip of his nose. His skin was not golden-brown, but chalky. “How could I not lose hope after seeing him like this?” Warm tears coursed down her cheeks and dripped onto the wizard’s hand. Mae sniffled and ran her sleeve under her nose. Trina snuggled into her shoulder.
“I know that you can break this spell,” Folkvarus whispered.
Mae’s heart picked up its pace. Her mind whirled with possibilities. She stared at Folkvarus. He seemed shorter than she remembered him being when they’d first met, and his dark eyes carried a bluish tone. “You aren’t a troll, are you? Folkvarus isn’t even your proper name, is it?”
Folkvarus’s serious face cracked a small smile. “My real name is Glenn. Glenn Bridgepost.”
If a heart could stop in its chest and leave a hapenny still alive, that’s exactly what Mae’s would’ve done. She swallowed hard and tried to listen to Folkvarus over the rushing of blood in her ears.
“When my party was captured so many years ago, I didn’t want the queen to have too much power over me, so I gave myself a new name. Gilda did the same. The others didn’t follow suit—they were too proud to take any names besides their own. I now believe it was the only thing that saved us from the enchantment.”
“B-but you both look like trolls—so how were you saved?” Her palms were thick with sweat. She’d found her father—alive—after all these years. But now she had to tell him that her mother wasn’t.
“Because we remembered that we weren’t trolls every time we were called by a name other than our own.”
“What happened to the others?” Mae asked quietly. “Did—did they die?”
“Worse.” Folkvarus shook his head. “They didn’t just look like trolls; they really became trolls.”
Mae clasped Callum’s hand and laid her head against him. So many emotions had gathered in her chest that she wasn’t sure what she was feeling. She was relieved and scared and angry all at once. It was brewing in her like a thunderstorm, and she didn’t know when the lightning struck what shape it was going to take. Trina scrambled up to sit on her shoulder. “And you are a hapenny, only you don’t look like a hapenny because of the enchantments on the castle. The party you speak of was the Great Expedition that left the Wedge when I was only two years old.”
“I’m afraid you’ve found me out.” Folkvarus smiled, but it was a sad smile, one that wavered at the corners and quickly disappeared. “You are the same age my daughter would be. I bet you even know her.”
Mae took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and faced Folkvarus. Her heart was cracking in two. She felt for the blue orb pendant under her blouse for courage, but her voice was calm as she asked the question that had been burning in her chest for so long.
“Because of you, I was raised by a troll pretending to be a hapenny. She was mean and dirty. She wasn’t enchanted to look and act like a troll. She was a real troll. How could you leave us like that?”
Folkvarus pushed his palms out in a “stop” gesture. “Wait a minute. I had no idea the village would be attacked. Do you think any of us would’ve left if we could’ve foreseen the future?”
“She ate my mother, Serena Bridgepost.” Mae saw his face fall. She instantly felt sorry for her bluntness, and she didn’t want to hurt him, but sometimes truth is painful. It was what he would do with that truth that Mae wanted to see. Would he toss her to the trolls again, or pick up the pieces and help her get back to the Wedge?
“Serena Bridgepost? My Serena, eaten by a troll?” Folkvarus sunk to the floor, his hands shaking like leaves in a storm. Bright tears sparkled in his eyes.
“My mother,” Mae repeated, and she pulled out the pendant and opened it so he could see the dark lock inside.
Folkvarus’s watery eyes lifted to take in Mae’s features. She knelt so she could be face to face with him. He cupped her cheek. “Maewyn?”
Mae nodded, and after a brief hesitation she threw herself into her dad’s arms and bawled.
When Mae could breathe again, she told her dad everything she could remember about the years before her mother died. “Mother left a candle in the window for you every night, to guide you back home. But you never came.”
“I’m so sorry, Maewyn. If I had known I’d be gone so long, I never would’ve left.” He stepped back, though still holding her hands, so he could get a better look at her. “I should’ve known the first time I laid eyes on you. You have your mother’s eyes and her twitchy nose, and my curly hair.”
Mae snorted and patted the very short, but still unruly, locks. “Well, before the queen cut it all off.”
“I overheard Cook Barley and Mr. Whiteknoll talking about one of your party having magick.” He sniffled and wiped his teary eyes as he stood. “I knew it was one of you girls when I saw how clean the queen’s chamber was. I didn’t narrow it down to you, though, until Poppy made that remark about the Wedge. A long time ago, one of the gargoyles told us about a comb hidden somewhere in the castle that would be revealed by the full moon’s path. It’s the only thing that can break the spell, but we haven’t been able to find it. I thought maybe your magick could find it.”
“A comb to break the spell?” Mae asked. She’d heard of true love’s kiss breaking a spell, and counter-spells, but a comb? A sudden thought hit Mae between the eyes. “The leyna charm on the gargoyle!”
“The what?” her dad asked.
“It’s a magic spell that disguises something to look like something else. The gargoyle above the hearth in the queen’s chamber—he has pointed teeth. None of the other gargoyles have teeth like him.”
“Teeth…as in comb teeth,” Mr. Bridgpost said.
“That’s what I’m thinking.” Mae nodded.
“You might be on to something. The queen’s chamber is the only place I haven’t been able to search,” her dad said. “I was never more happy, or more sad, than when the queen captured you and your red-haired friend.”
“Poppy,” Maewyn said. “She is Leif’s cousin.”
“Burrbridge?” her dad asked.
Mae nodded.
Her dad ran his hands through his hair. “Poppy’s father was my best friend. He told me I shouldn’t leave my family—not with you so young. I should have listened to him. How can I help you break the spell?”
“Until I can see if the gargoyle really is holding a comb in his mouth, there’s nothing we can do, except…”
“Except?”
“Can you leave the castle?” Mae asked.
“I can go onto the grounds without causing suspicion, if that’s what you mean. But what for?”
“There’s been an outbreak of Bricklebear Fever in the Wedge, and we need to gather the corley thistles in the field before the snow kills them. It’s the main ingredient in the cure, and we’ve run out in the Wedge.”
“Burnt biscuits.” Her dad clicked his tongue. “I’ll have to come up with some kind of excuse to be
picking flowers, but yes, I’ll find a way.”
“Thank you, Folk—er…Dad.” Mae smiled shyly up at him. The hair on his ears had thickened since he’d led her and Poppy into the castle almost a week ago. It almost seemed as if his green-tinged skin had pinked up too.
Her dad put his hand on her shoulder. “You should probably call me Folkvarus until we get out of here.”
“That’s probably a good idea.”
“C’mon. I was supposed to take you to the dungeon to help with the animals until the queen had need of you. I’m afraid it must be near midafternoon, but let’s get you something to eat first.”
Mae perked up at the thought of food. She patted Callum’s hand. “Don’t worry, Callum. I’m going to find that comb and get us home.”
The wizard didn’t stir.
Trina crawled up her arm and settled on her shoulder.
Mae’s dad gestured for her to lead the way back down the stairwell. He closed the door behind them. As they stepped out of the stairwell and entered the Great Room, Mae saw a bunch of tiny creatures busily sweeping the bones and broken dishes from last night’s dinner into piles. They had big heads with small, pointed ears and long noses, and wore clothing that was patched together from discards. Lopsided hats bobbed on their heads, the brims held together with patches and pins. Her dad pointed to them and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Those are brownies. Don’t let them catch you looking at them or they will scuttle out of the room. Can you imagine what this place would look like if they weren’t here to sweep the bones and debris away?”
Mae crinkled her nose. She could only imagine what the Great Room would look like without them. She quickly looked away so that the brownies wouldn’t think she’d seen them.
It was steamy in the kitchen when they walked through the swinging door. Cook Barley was humming as he stirred a bubbling sauce. Gilda was busy cutting biscuits.
“Is there any oatmeal left, Gilda?”
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