Still chuckling, she waved Molly over. "You, here."
Molly scurried over with the pastry bag still in hand. The cook plucked the icing out her grip and tossed it to a dish boy too close to the fray. "Fifteen minute break. Get out of here.” She turned back to the gaping kitchen staff, "Faule Schweine, back to work!"
Dylan grabbed Molly's hand and bolted.
"Wait, I need to catch my breath," Molly said, leaning against a wall and panting.
Dylan crossed his arms and leaned next to her. "That was quite a getaway."
"Oh my goodness, I was terrified. For a second I was sure she was going to eat you alive… and then she laughed. She never laughs. Ever." She looked carefully at his face. "You didn't slip her something, did you?"
"Why do people always jump to that conclusion?" Dylan said with a frown.
"Oh gosh, I've offended you.” She covered her mouth with one hand. “I'm so sorry."
Dylan couldn’t remember the last time he’d met someone so genuine and naive. She threw him slightly off balance. "Molly, there’s one thing you're going to need to know about me: very few serious things come out of my mouth.”
She looked at him blankly.
Dylan struggled to keep his face serious. "I'm kidding, Molly."
"Oh, I'll remember next time." She nodded as if actually making a mental note.
"Still up for that private tour?"
"Yes," her smile grew. "Where do you want to start?"
"Some place quieter.” He pretended to think about it. “How about the west wing? I'm guessing everyone's at the party."
Molly colored and shook her head. "We're not allowed up there unless we've been summoned."
"Then we're going to have to find someone who needs us." He held out his hand and Molly took it hesitantly.
They skirted the perimeter of the ballroom, but Dylan couldn’t help but pause and check on the others. Andi was leeched to the prince’s side again. She curtsied to an older, dignified woman, whom he assumed was Wilhelm's mother. Fredrick’s words echoed in his head and he tore his angry gaze away from her to watch Quinn sweep by with a grubby man dressed in rags and sporting a wild beard. Fredrick stood aside watching them dance. He held a glass of punch so tightly in each hand, it looked like he was trying to strangle them. Maybe he should be the one taking his own advice.
Turning away from the party, Dylan and Molly headed up a staircase, the plush carpet absorbing their footsteps as they climbed.
"Have you worked here long?" Dylan asked.
"I've been here all my life. They treat me well, even if Kochien can be a little terrifying to work for,” Molly said.
"Is it just the queen and Prince Wilhelm?"
"No.” The girl’s face blanched. “I mean yes!” Her hand fluttered around in confusion. “I mean, we're not supposed to talk about it."
Dylan led her up the last few steps to the landing, not relishing the manipulative game he was playing. But a lot rode on his ability to pry secrets out. "But you can tell me. Or did they specifically say: 'no spilling the truth to handsome young strangers'?"
Molly's face flamed red and she stammered, "It's pretty well known, I guess. Wilhelm has a half-sister, but she doesn't live here."
"Why not?"
"The queen... she thought it would be better if the child were raised by others,” Molly said.
Dylan deepened his voice and whispered with a grin, "That sounds vague and mysterious.”
"I’ve never seen her, but she’s supposed to be a great beauty," Molly spoke softly, as if the halls they wound through listened in. "The queen keeps a close eye on her—jealous, I think. She’s used to being the fairest of them all."
"Must be nice to have a magic mirror to do you spying," Dylan joked. “Now if only it could cook breakfast and transport you to other worlds.”
Molly stopped as if she ran into an invisible barrier and stuffed a fist in her mouth as she stared at Dylan with terror-filled eyes.
"Molly?" Dylan asked, alarmed.
Little whimpers were escaping her as she backed away from him. Dylan turned around, trying to find the source of her terror, but could see no one, nothing. He grabbed her by the shoulders and tried to get her to focus on him.
"Molly!"
Her eyes recognized him again. "How, how... did you know?"
"Know what?" Dylan asked.
She was unresponsive again.
"Molly!"
He felt sick. The people he coaxed information from were usually made of sterner stuff. He’d pushed her too hard. He realized his grip must have been hurting her so he slid her to the floor, propped her against the wall, and put an arm around her as she shook.
"It’s okay Molly," he said, quietly touching his forehead against hers.
She moaned into his shoulder. "The punishment for revealing the family’s secrets is death."
A spy mirror shouldn’t cause this kind of reaction. Her tongue had tripped a little too close to the truth, but he couldn't let on he knew; it would be on him if something happened to this girl. Despite the danger he’d put them both in, he couldn’t squash the elation bubbling up. He’d found the way home.
"Why are you so worked up? I told you, half of what I say is a joke. What upset you?" Dylan asked lightly.
"A joke? You were making a joke?" Her face lifted slightly from where it was buried in his jacket.
"Sure I was."
"Then you don't know about..." She clamped her mouth tight shut as if the words might leap out on their own volition.
"Nope. Don't have a clue,” he said cheerfully.
"Oh!" Her shaking subsided and she leaned into Dylan's arm. "I thought...” She shook her head. "I've ruined everything!"
"Nah, what's a castle tour without a little drama?” Dylan pulled her to her feet and she clung tightly to his hand. “I tell you what, we'll take the scenic route back and you can point out the highlights."
As Molly pulled him along, Dylan let her rattle on about tapestries and frescos, additions made to the palace, and famous architects. He was careful not to mention magic, mirrors, or any other forbidden subjects, but his mind raced with possibilities of getting himself and the others into this section of the palace.
“You’re a good tour guide. They’re wasting your talents in the kitchen,” Dylan told her.
Molly blushed so hard she could have given Fredrick a run for his money. Dylan grinned at her. A real smile, not one manufactured with ulterior motives behind it.
“No, really, you guys are servants, not slaves. Speak up. You should have an opinion about where you work,” Dylan said.
They edged past a corridor flanked by a pair of palace guards standing at attention.
"Where does that go?" Dylan whispered as they wandered back toward the kitchens.
"Queen's personal rooms. No one goes in there but her. No one," Molly repeated, as though she knew he was hatching ideas.
Dylan heard a soft clank, like metal brushing metal, a split second before he felt the blow. He turned just enough that the impact glanced his head instead of the direct hit intended by the blow.
Dylan hit the ground, his head feeling like a split melon, and Molly sobbed as if from far away. “I’m sorry, Dylan. I’m sorry.”
Being the one duped was a new sensation for Dylan. He didn’t particularly like it. He rolled over, bleary and dazed, catching a flash of the royal crest on one of his attackers’ sleeves before they struck him again.
Then there was nothing.
Chapter 28
“Secure the castle, I don't want her getting out.”
Andi locked eyes with Wilhelm the second she entered the ballroom. He’d been watching for her.
He glided to her side, as confident as the wolf about to devour Red Riding Hood, and laced his fingers with hers as though that’s where they belonged.
“Come,” he said, leading her to a quieter corner on the far side of the ballroom. “There’s someone who’s requested an audience with you.”
<
br /> “Who?” Andi asked, slightly apprehensive.
Wilhelm smiled down at her and towed her along, refusing to answer.
Tucked into a partially curtained-off room, where you could either be part of the bustle of the feast or separate yourself from the action, sat a small throne. Andi’s stomach did flip-flops as she approached the woman and curtsied as smoothly as she could, bowing her head to the queen.
“Cynthia,” Queen Gisela said.
She rose from her throne and her beauty struck Andi. She was not particularly young or old, but her simple, delicate features—coupled with the how she held herself with poise and polish—made her remarkable in a timeless, breathtaking way. She took Andi’s hands in her own.
“You’ve been away far too long. I was starting to think you’d broken my poor boy’s heart for good.” She softened the light rebuke with a smile, but Andi detected the slightest touch of acrimony in her words.
“That was never my intention,” Andi answered. Catching Wilhelm’s expectant look she hastily added, “Your Majesty.”
The queen’s high-necked black gown glittered as she dismissed her attendants with a single finger. She tucked Andi’s hand in the crook of her arm and slowly strolled the perimeter of the room, Wilhelm trailing silently behind.
“So Wilhelm tells me,” she said, keeping her chin up as her gaze wandered the room. “But you’re here now.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Andi said, wishing she could free her hand.
“I think you mean you couldn’t miss it,” Wilhelm’s mother said with a light laugh.
Andi smiled along, but didn’t have a clue what was funny.
“How was your time away? Pleasant?” Queen Gisela asked, tipping her head back to take in the arched ceiling far above.
The touch of bitterness Andi detected earlier was back. She’d have to tread carefully.
“Except for missing Wilhelm, I was very happy.”
Wilhelm’s mother turned and gave him a smile Andi couldn’t interpret. Wilhelm remained impassive. “And you were staying with—?" the queen asked, waiting for Andi to fill in the blank.
Her mind raced.
“Family, on my mother’s side.” There, a nice vague answer. Andi could have been living in a grove of hazel trees for all she knew.
Queen Gisela smiled, giving her a sideways glance. Andi was under the impression she wasn’t disappointed in her elusive answers, but instead found it amusing.
“And you, Your Majesty? Has your time been spent pleasantly?” Andi asked.
The queen paused, watching couples on the dance floor preform the foxtrot. “Except for the untimely death of my husband—”
Mentally, Andi beat the heel of her hand against her forehead. Way to put her foot in her mouth.
“—I’ve been heavily involved in ensuring the kingdom’s future.” She laughed lightly, an acidic undercurrent to her words. “The realm doesn’t run itself, after all.”
Andi didn’t like where this was going.
Prince Wilhelm had been spinning her around the dance floor for the last hour, while his mother tracked them with a concentrated look, and Andi was getting nervous. She hadn’t seen Dylan or Quinn for sometime. Fredrick still kept within her line of vision, which was odd considering he’d been glued to Quinn all evening. It was getting late and Andi felt she should be making her Cinderella-exit soon. She never did get a chance to read the story in her grandmother's book. Without the mice and the fairy godmother, was the magic still going to wear off at midnight?
When Fredrick surreptitiously shook his head at her, his face worried, her stomach dropped. Something was wrong.
The song ended and Andi brought her hand up to her cheek and gave an easy laugh. "Wilhelm, I think I might need another break."
"Of course, here, let's sit down." He guided her back to a table. Andi was beginning to be annoyed at his complete attention to her. He acted more like she was his a puppet whose strings he pulled than a devoted suitor.
Andi pulled up short. "Actually, I think I'll visit the powder room again."
"Cynthia." He took her hand, forcing her to turn and look at him. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing."
"Doing?" She tried to sound lost, when really her palms were so sweaty inside her gloves they were beginning to itch.
"Please. Your disappearing act usually has me looking through pigeon houses and up trees for you,” the prince said in a teasing tone.
"It is time for me to go,” Andi admitted.
"Here is what I propose.” He bent his head until their foreheads were touching, his lips only inches from hers, and continued in a whisper. “You stay here tonight. I'll have a guest room prepared. That way we can avoid all this running around nonsense."
"Wilhelm." She placed a hand on his chest, trying to put an inch or two of distance between them. The prince immediately trapped her hand against him with one of his own. Andi’s head spun again. She managed a slight pout. “You know how my family is. What do you think they'll do to me if I'm not there tomorrow morning?"
"Do you envision them marching up to the castle and demanding you back?” He grinned down at her. “While that might be amusing, I doubt even Lady Worthington would be that foolish."
Andi struggled to talk herself out of the situation. "Very well, but I would like my cloak from the coat check before I go up."
"I'll send it up with a servant.”
"You baby me too much," she said, pulling her hand free and covering up the movement by sliding her arms around his neck. She met his eyes and murmured, "It'll just take a moment."
She turned abruptly, walking briskly across the marble floor. Short of physically restraining her in the middle of the ballroom, there was little he could do except hurry after her.
Out of the corner of her eye, Andi kept track of Fredrick who frowned at her, but followed unobtrusively. A short wooden counter folded over the doorway to a massive closet where hundreds of cloaks, furs, and wraps hung. An ancient-looking servant manned the desk and straightened to attention when he saw the prince on Andi's heels.
"May we have Lady Cynthia's cloak, please? It is impossible for her to retire without it." Wilhelm gave her a half smile as he leaned against the counter.
"Ticket, Sir?" the servant asked.
"I didn't get a ticket," Andi interrupted. "But it's blue... oh here, I'll get it." Before either man could stop her, she ducked under the counter and disappeared in the racks of clothes.
Andi searched through the mountains of fabric looking for her cloak, the attendant sputtering indigently from the doorway.
Wilhelm laughed from the other side of the counter. "You are wily, I'll give you that. Come on out beautiful, you've got nowhere to go."
Andi pulled wildly at anything blue that caught her eye, tossing it on the floor if it wasn't hers. The mess grew and she could hear the prince growing impatient.
"Please don't make me come in there, darling." His voice lost its teasing tone and it developed a hard edge that had the hair on Andi’s arms standing on end.
She yanked a blue cloak off a hook and dumped it on the floor before she realized it was hers. Swooping it back up, she threw it on and pulled up the hood just as Wilhelm vaulted over the counter. Andi backed up into a corner, invisible, and tried to make herself as small as possible.
"Cynthia!" He swept aside the clothes and they fluttered to the ground as if in a rainstorm. His voice held a dark edge. As he tore apart the room, his gaze raked over her more than once, unfocused, and the attendant was almost in tears.
The prince scrutinized the apparently empty room and the crazed look in his eyes scared Andi.
"Guards!" He barked, having laid bare every rack and coat hanger, failing to find her.
She crouched on the floor and glimpsed Fredrick hovering outside the room. She waffled between waiting it out where she was or trying to slip past the prince into the hall when two of the black clad men with crests on their sleeves materialized in the doorway.
“Secure the castle,” Wilhelm instructed them. “I don't want her getting out.”
The queen’s voice floated from outside the cloakroom. “Did Dame Gothel get what she came for?”
Wilhelm’s reply was short and brusque, “Yes. No problems.” He twisted his neck sharply to the left, as if trying to work out a kink.
“At least there’s that,” the queen said. “There wasn’t much time to contact her once she showed up.”
The prince tugged at the cuffs of his tux and addressed the guard, “What about the boy?”
“He’ll have a headache when he wakes up, but nothing we couldn’t handle,” the guard said.
“Good.” Wilhelm flipped the counter up, smashing it so hard into the wall the entire room echoed and the attendant flinched. He said something else to her majesty on his way out the door, but Andi didn't catch it.
Fredrick had disappeared, but with the prince gone, it was easy enough to skirt the attendant sifting through the disaster of coats, and slip through the door.
When she made it out of the tiny room, Fredrick materialized so suddenly she almost yelped. His eyes slid over her. Andi had forgotten she was invisible for a second. Grabbing his arm, she stifled a laugh at the way he jumped.
"Andi?"
"Right here,” she whispered.
His face visibly relaxed. "I thought you were going for your cloak. You cut it close." She grabbed his sleeve and pulled him farther down the hall, not wanting the attendant to overhear her disembodied voice.
"Where's Quinn and Dylan?" she asked.
"I don't know. I haven't seen Dylan since we escaped from the girl’s bathroom, and that was a few hours ago. The last time I saw Quinn she was talking to one of the guests, trying to get more information. A lady with flowers growing out of her hair, I think,” Fredrick said.
"I saw that. She’s supposed to be some kind of sorceress, and I think she might have Quinn,” Andi muttered.
"I should’ve watched her more carefully,” Fredrick said, his shoulders tense and eyes hard.
"It gets worse. Wilhelm asked the guards about ‘the boy.’ They might have Dylan too,” Andi said, unease twisting inside her. She had said some choice words to him in the girl’s bathroom and now he was missing. “He was right. Wilhelm’s ‘nice guy’ thing was just an act.”
A Grimm Legacy Page 17
