by J A Armitage
“While he was riding, he came across a tower in the woods. It looked old and worn-down, and like it maybe shouldn’t have been there, but it was there all the same. And Queen Rapunzel was up in the tower.”
I held my breath as if the slightest sound would make him change his mind about telling me this.
“She wasn’t a queen then, of course. She wasn’t a noble lady, either, or even a wealthy merchant’s daughter or skilled craftswoman. She was a prisoner, the adopted daughter of the witch who’d kidnapped her at birth.”
I immediately forgot my attempt at silence.
“The daughter of the what now?” I exclaimed. “Kidnapped her from who? When?”
And stars, why?
“The witch used to go up and down the tower using Rapunzel’s hair, see,” Hedley continued as if my outburst hadn’t happened. “It was longer then, impossibly long, and it gleamed like… Well, you’ve seen it. She keeps her hair at a manageable length now, but when she was young, she had to let it grow so the witch could go in and out as she pleased. And King Alder, he was so fascinated by this mysterious woman that he figured out how to climb up and down her hair, too, and that’s how they got to know each other.”
I blinked. Hedley’s image didn’t waver or do anything else to indicate I’d lost my mind.
“What do you mean, he climbed up and down her hair?” I said. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Magic often is,” Hedley said, steady as ever. “One thing led to another, and the two young people fell in love. The witch wasn’t happy with it, and she tried to keep them apart.” He frowned a little. “Well, that’s a long story. But in the end, they got married. Alder’s father didn’t appreciate the idea at first, but his health was failing, and I think he decided a bride he liked well enough was better than a bride he’d never met, so he gave them permission to go ahead with the union.”
“What happened to the witch?”
“Still sulking in her tower, no doubt,” Hedley said. “The point of all this is that Queen Rapunzel’s hair has magic, just like your garden does. I don’t know if it came from the witch or if the hair is why the witch wanted her in the first place, but I suspect whatever’s happening with the blight has something to do with her hair and something to do with your garden.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “How the pieces connect? That’s the part I don’t know. Still, it seemed like information you should have.”
I tried to imagine it, the queen locked in a tower in a forest, and King Alder coming to visit her by climbing her hair like a rope. I couldn’t quite envision it, not without the image seeming too ludicrous to be real.
Still, Hedley had never lied to me. Nor had I ever known him to speak on a subject he didn’t fully know about. Even his guess that I had some kind of magic buried deep inside myself had turned out to be correct, even if it hadn’t proved as useful as he’d hoped.
“Does Lilian know?”
He shook his head. “I doubt it. Doesn’t seem like the kind of thing she’d know and not have told you already.”
It was a decent point. Lilian was decent at keeping secrets, but she’d never been any good at keeping them from me.
A dozen questions swirled through my head. I picked one at random.
“Who were the queen’s real parents?”
Hedley tapped his suspenders. “No one knows, not even her,” he said. “She spoke to me about it once. Said she tried looking for them but never came up with anything. Likely they died. Then you arrived on her doorstep, and she decided she’d rather focus on building her current family than focusing on the one she’d left behind.” He scratched his cheek in thought. “I always thought it was strange, them taking in a baby so soon after they got married. But I suppose it makes sense. She was raised almost totally alone. Imagine that, for a woman who loves people as much as the queen. I don’t think she could have sent you to the orphanage once she’d seen your face, not when she could give you a good life instead.”
She’d given me a wonderful upbringing, one of the best. Picturing her now, hidden away in her room with her golden hair turning gray, hit me like a punch to the gut. She deserved better.
I couldn’t figure out how to give it to her.
“Do you think it’s the witch’s fault?” I said. “Is she the one cursing the kingdom now?”
Hedley shook his head. “King Alder was able to put that witch in her place. A sorceress that our king could best, doesn’t seem powerful enough to curse a kingdom, don’t you think?”
It made sense and was almost the more frustrating for that. Having someone to blame meant we’d have someone who could fix this situation.
“She might not be able to curse a whole nation.” I glanced up at Hedley. “Think she might be able to curse a single duke?”
Hedley groaned, and I bit back a smile. Getting Hedley to actually make sounds of annoyance took work. I was almost proud of myself.
“Deon,” he said solemnly. “If you march into the forest to find a wicked witch when the festival is mere days away, I will disown you. See if I don’t.”
I ducked my head to hide my smile and busied my hands pulling down the next covered tray of seedlings.
“Of course, if you wanted to find her after the festival is over, that’s your business,” he added under his breath.
I looked sharply up at him. “You don’t approve of him, either,” I said. “I knew it.”
“There’s not much to approve of, is there?” he said. “I don’t like the way you say he treats Lilian.”
“You believe me, then?” I said. “You don’t just think I’m, I don’t know, some lovesick youth blinded by grief?”
Hedley’s lips twitched. “That’s a bit dramatic.”
“It’s how it feels,” I muttered, pulling the bell off the seedling tray.
“I know you better than that.” He shrugged, his broad shoulders barely moving. “You’d support the princess to the ends of the earth. If her betrothed were a good man, you’d stand aside, knowing she was in good hands. If you say she’s being mistreated, I daresay that’s close enough to the truth.”
Hedley’s trust in me warmed the pit of my stomach. Nobody seemed to trust me these days--not the duke, not my staff, not the journalists who kept swarming the palace grounds for evidence of my failure in holding back the blight.
But Hedley believed in me. So did Lilian.
We went back to work, each quiet with our own thoughts. I turned over the strange story Hedley had told me, trying to match it up with what I’d heard of the king and queen. He’d been right, what I heard did match up in technicalities. It was the nuance beyond those that had my head spinning.
Their story made sense, though. Or, at least, it made the queen’s actions make sense. It was strange that she and the king had taken in a foundling child so soon after their wedding, and stranger still that they’d raised me with such love instead of merely bringing me up as one servant among hundreds.
But when I considered what the queen’s past had been, her choices were no longer surprising. However unlikely it seemed, I had a feeling Queen Rapunzel saw herself in me: an orphan child, with nowhere to go, in need of a loving home. I could imagine her surprise at finding an infant on her doorstep. Just as easily, I could imagine her impulse to take care of me, to ensure I was raised in a home where I would never be lonely. When Lilian had come along, she had always encouraged our friendship and seemed to delight in watching us play together.
Or perhaps I had it backward. Perhaps, I saw myself in her. We were both separated from our true parents. We had both made a home here at the palace. We both loved Floris, and the gardens, and Lilian.
Strange as it was to consider, I was more like the queen of Floris than I was different.
And now the queen was in danger of the blight that threatened to take everything we loved.
I glanced at the tray of seedlings. I would learn to focus my magic. I would learn to use it. And I would try to save the kingdom before it wa
s too late.
9th April
The morning before the festival dawned clear and cool. I saw it happen because I had already been up for hours, supervising the last crates of bulbs and seeds that were being taken over to the festival grounds.
I heaved a wooden crate of bulbs onto the back of the wagon. Reed loaded another, and I called to the driver to go ahead. The cart rolled forward, and the next one, just arrived from the grounds, pulled up to take its place.
“We must have a few seeds left if it’s taking this many loads to get everything over there,” Reed said.
I acknowledged his optimism with a smile but didn’t explain that it was because I’d held almost all the seeds, bulbs, and seedlings back at the palace until the last possible moment. With the blight frightening everyone in the kingdom, theft was a real concern.
I could have always pulled a few palace guards to keep an eye on everything over at the festival grounds, of course, but I didn’t dare. Too many of the guards the duke had brought in were loyal only to him. I didn’t trust them not to destroy the crates themselves just to spite me or win points with their boss.
“Do you think we’ll have a festival next year?” Reed asked.
The way he quickly glanced away told me it had taken a lot of courage to ask the question--courage and fear. I smiled ruefully.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I think, yes. Even if we have to import all the flowers from elsewhere.”
I didn’t add that it might not be up to me. Lilian would try to stop him, but the duke had warned me I’d be fired as soon as the festival was over and he was married. The alliance would solidify his powers, and there was little I could do to stop him.
Lilian was the princess of Floris and would inherit the crown from her father. But the Florian custom had always been almost total equality between the monarchs and their spouses. In Floris, a king was a king and a queen was a queen, no matter who had married into the family.
Duke Remington was a born and bred Florian, and he would know this better than anyone. He wanted the power of the throne, and he would use it.
I was as good as gone.
“I’ll admit, a festival full of flowers from The Forge would be impressive,” Reed said. He’d taken my comment as a joke, and I was glad. “All those wild blooms with their zany colors.”
“We’d be in danger for our lives,” I said. The Forge was home to an impressive variety of venomous and carnivorous plants. Hedley hadn’t allowed me near the ones in our greenhouse until I was thirteen for fear I’d lose a finger. “I wouldn’t mind it if Skyla provided most of the flowers, either. We’d have to hire hot air balloons just so people could keep up with all the flying blossoms.”
“Come to think of it, I’m not hating this idea.” He grinned. His good cheer was nearly indefatigable, provided someone like Linden wasn’t around to push his buttons.
When I was gone, I hoped the palace would consider promoting Reed in my place. He didn’t have the experience, and he’d mentioned before that he didn’t particularly want the job, but I knew he’d do it well. Or, at least, he wouldn’t be an absolute tyrant, which wasn’t something I could say about many of the more experienced gardeners on the staff. Myrtle would be good at the job, too, if she weren’t so single-minded about her tulips. Hollis should be considered, too. She’d always been professional, and she had the organizational skills to manage the palace’s forty acres.
“You all right?” Reed asked.
I jumped and realized he’d already started loading the newest cart while I’d been staring ahead, contemplating the depressing reality of a palace where I wasn’t allowed.
“Just making sure I haven’t forgotten anything,” I lied and got to work loading.
Hedley came by to help us before the cart was full. He threw himself into the labor, and the final cart was loaded before I knew it.
The morning was starting to warm up. Reed wiped the sweat off his forehead and turned to Hedley.
“You do know you don’t work here anymore, right?” he said, still grinning.
Hedley scoffed. “What else am I going to do, get underfoot in the kitchens? No, Hyacinth doesn’t arrive until this evening. I might as well make myself useful.”
I tried to contemplate a world in which Hedley wasn’t useful. I couldn’t conjure up anything so ridiculous.
“If you need work to do, I can give it to you,” I said, nodding at the cart. “I’m headed to the festival grounds to help set up the last displays.”
“I’m at your disposal,” Hedley said with a nod. It was almost funny, my old mentor showing me any kind of deference, but I appreciated it at a level I couldn’t have explained. There were so few people who thought I was worth anything these days, but so long as I had Hedley and Lilian’s respect, I could manage.
“I’ll join you in a bit,” Reed said. “I need to go drain the water garden now that it’s empty.”
Discouragement hid behind that simple statement. The water garden was never empty. But this year, everything that had survived had already been taken to the festival grounds, and we had little hope of growing anything new there.
“I’ll ride with you.” Hedley climbed onto the back of the cart.
I followed, and we arranged ourselves among the wooden crates. The morning sun kissed my cheeks and the back of my neck, its warm light ordinary and surreal because of it. The driver got us moving. The palace grounds spread out on either side, so drained of color, I could have tricked myself into thinking the world around me was nothing more than a black and white photograph.
“I’m glad I caught you alone,” Hedley said in a voice low enough that the driver wouldn’t overhear us under the creaking of the wheels. “I heard a bit of news this morning you ought to be aware of.”
I propped an elbow on one of the crates and rested my head on my hand. A sudden fatigue pooled in my bones.
“I’m not going to like this, am I?”
Hedley grimaced. “It would appear that Duke Remington has been asked to be one of the competition judges.”
My stomach lurched in a way that had nothing to do with the bumpiness of the ride. “You’re joking.”
I didn’t have to ask which competitions the duke would be judging. Hedley’s face said it all.
“Who asked him?”
“The Horticulture Council.”
No doubt he had them wrapped around his little finger. It sickened me.
“Thanks for the warning,” I said dryly. “I was afraid this week was going to be too good.”
Hedley normally had little patience for my moods. To my surprise, he made a soft noise somewhere between a laugh and a snort and leaned forward on his crate.
“We really are in a pickle, aren’t we?” he said.
He was as pessimistic as the rest of us, then, in his own way.
“Is the enchanted glass helping?” I asked.
“Perhaps,” he said. “Still too early to tell.”
“If it works, maybe we can get some magicians to enchant a whole greenhouse.”
He thought about this for a moment, then gave the idea one decisive nod.
“It wouldn’t be enough to restore the kingdom to what it ought to be,” I said. “But if we were to set up a few greenhouses here, and maybe enchant every greenhouse in the kingdom, we could grow enough to keep the people fed.”
“It might come down to that.” He sighed and stretched his arms, then laced a thumb behind one of his suspenders.
“Maybe I could find a job growing food,” I said. “When I’m not at the palace anymore.”
Hedley shook his head. “The duke’s a fool if he goes through with that threat of his. Firing you isn’t going to help the gardens, and it’ll drive a wedge between him and the princess he won’t easily be able to fix.”
“I don’t think he cares,” I said. “Lilian isn’t important to him. Just the throne.”
“Yes, I heard his parents gloating about it.” Hedley’s voice took on a shade of dist
aste I wasn’t accustomed to hearing from him.
I leaned in closer. “You’ve met them?”
“Better than met,” he said. “I overheard them when they were walking through the palace yesterday.”
I realized that I hadn’t seen the duke’s parents in some time, nor any of the other nobles and courtiers at the palace. The gray grounds had chased them all indoors. I envied them.
Although, in truth, that might have just been because my late-night baths in the lake--a cold necessity now that I’d been barred from the palace--were starting to lose their charm.
“What did they have to say?” A hard edge crept into my voice. It was bad enough that the duke had invaded Lilian’s home, but it felt somehow far worse to know his parents were swanning around the castle while Lilian’s parents had all but disappeared.
“Just a good deal of nonsense about how their son had finally reached the position to which he had always been destined.” Hedley paused, then continued, with more caution, “They also seemed to think Princess Lilian isn’t being as gracious of a hostess as they’d expected.”
A laugh burst from me, sharp and at risk of becoming hysterical. “They think they deserve better, do they?” I exclaimed.
Hedley cleared his throat and jerked his chin toward the cart’s driver. I swallowed the rest of my outrage.
“They’re lucky Princess Lilian hasn’t thrown a little nightshade in their tea,” I muttered. “Luckier still, I’m not allowed in the palace, or I’d do it myself.”
Threatening the lives of the future king’s parents, even in jest, seemed like the kind of thing I probably shouldn’t risk, but I was past caring. Duke Remington had already taken everything he could take from me.
Almost everything, anyway. And he’d steal the last few things soon enough.
“I don’t care if he’s judging the flower contest, I’m going to win,” I said. “This is the only flower festival I’m going to get. I had one year as head gardener, and I’m not going to go out by losing to some poppy fanatic from Oz.”
