The Girl in the Tower

by Lisa Schroeder

  “What have you done?” she shrieked.

  Violet looked at her with innocent eyes. “Are you speaking to me?”

  “Who else would I be speaking to? Your hair, child. It’s … gone!”

  Violet patted her head, where only slight fuzz, like that of a peach, remained. “Indeed it is.”

  The queen shook her head in disbelief. “But why?” She looked around. “And who is responsible for this travesty? Speak now, or you will face even greater punishment than a night in the dungeon.”

  “Please,” the king said, “Bogdana, you must calm down. ’Twas a bad case of lice, the child told me. She had no choice but to shear it off. She’s young and healthy, and of course it will grow back. Now, sit down so we may eat.”

  “I shall not sit down,” the queen yelled. “Perhaps you do not understand how dire this situation is. Surely we must postpone the ball, for we cannot crown a princess looking like … that!”

  Violet rose to her feet and faced the queen. “I have been working very hard to prepare for the ball, Your Majesty. As I understand it, the refreshments have been purchased, the announcements have been made, and many people are traveling from near and far for the occasion. And you wish to cancel it because of something as frivolous as my hair?”

  “It is not frivolous,” the queen bellowed. “You look hideous, and I will not have you make a fool of me.”

  “Certainly beauty is not a royal requirement, is it, Your Majesty?” Violet asked. “I have always believed it’s what’s on the inside that counts. After all, I would rather have a heart of gold than a face that is envied, wouldn’t you agree?”

  As Violet spoke of beauty and a face to be envied, the queen suddenly realized the ball was the least of her worries. Without a single hair on the girl’s head, it would be impossible to cast the spell for beauty until her hair grew out. Bogdana would have to wait many months, perhaps even a year, for a strand that was long enough.

  The queen ignored Violet’s inquiry and instead shouted, “Maggie?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty?” Maggie replied as she rose from her seat.

  The queen glared at her. “When we are finished with our meal, I shall have a word with you. Privately. For I hold you partially responsible for this most unfortunate circumstance.”

  Maggie curtsied. “As you wish, my queen.”

  With nothing left to say, Bogdana sank into her seat, consumed with disappointment.

  Violet turned to the king. “Pray tell, am I correct?” she asked him. “Surely beauty, which we have little control over, is not a royal requirement.”

  “You are correct,” he replied. “There are far more important qualities than beauty. And from what I’ve seen, Violet, you possess many great characteristics that will make you a fine princess.”

  The king turned to address everyone seated in the great hall. “The royal ball will go on as scheduled, and very soon, we shall have a princess among us!”

  The crowd cheered as the queen sulked. If only the ancient spell book could help her, but she knew it was useless, as there hadn’t been anything written about speeding up hair growth. She would simply have to be patient and wait for Violet’s hair to grow out.

  Bogdana sighed in frustration. Hadn’t she been patient long enough? She glared at Violet, and thought the young girl seemed almost happy about this latest development. And the king seemed completely taken by her.

  In fact, as the queen scanned the faces in the great hall, all eyes were on Violet. Everyone was taken by the girl. The queen’s frustration and disappointment quickly turned to fury.

  They were supposed to be a team, the child and the queen. They were to be admired together. Envied together. Beautiful together.

  Well, how dare Violet get in the way of the queen’s well-laid plans?

  Perhaps the king could insist the ball go on as scheduled. But if Violet were to disappear without a trace the day of the ball, the queen thought as she schemed, what could he possibly do about that?

  For hair could grow out in the dungeon just as well as it could grow out in the castle.

  31

  Peace and Pax followed the minstrels as they made their way toward the castle. Every day, the temperature grew warmer, and their little hearts grew ever more hopeful that soon the girl whom they’d come to love in the garden would be reunited with her father and finally set free.

  As they traveled along, the two hummingbirds spread word to all their winged friends of the reunion soon to take place. The minstrels, preoccupied with trying to help Marko regain his memory, didn’t notice the growing number of butterflies, bees, and hummingbirds flying in the fields around them.

  Finally, one lovely morning, when it felt as if winter might be gone for good, the two hummingbirds recognized the scenery and knew the castle was nearby. The birds watched as the minstrels began dancing for joy. In fact, they danced and sang all the way up to the castle.

  “Halt,” exclaimed a young man as he extended his shiny lance. “What business do you have at the castle this day?”

  “We are here to seek answers,” said one of the minstrels. “We are here to find a woman and a young child whom we believe were taken from us.”

  “I cannot let you enter,” the guard said.

  “Please,” an older man said, “let a couple of us pass through. You do not need to tell anyone. We shall gladly pay you for your troubles.” He extended a bag bulging at the seams with coins.

  But the young man standing guard at the gate shook his head. “I have taken an oath, and I must protect the king and queen at all costs. Now, be on your way, for we are expecting many important people for a royal ball this evening.”

  As the minstrels continued in their efforts to convince the guard to let them through, Peace and Pax, along with all of their friends who had joined them on the journey to the castle, made their way to the garden.

  Perhaps wandering minstrels weren’t welcome beyond the gate, but birds, bees, and butterflies certainly were.

  32

  On the day of the royal ball, Violet woke up feeling as if she’d swallowed a beehive. Maggie tried to get her to eat, but the young girl wanted nothing to do with food.

  “What’s wrong, lass?” Maggie asked as Violet sat up in bed.

  As much as she wished she could tell Maggie of her plans to escape, she thought it best to keep it a secret, for she didn’t want to put the kind woman at risk.

  So she simply said, “Not sure that I know.”

  Maggie reached over and felt the girl’s forehead. “You’re not warm to the touch. It’s most likely nerves, dear. Your big day is finally here. The queen has asked you to stay in your room until it is time to announce you. What can I bring you to help pass the time? Would you like me to read you a story? Or perhaps you’d like to work on your needlework? I see it is coming along nicely.”

  Violet simply shrugged, hoping Maggie would leave her be. That was what she wanted more than anything, for she couldn’t carry out her plans with the maidservant milling about.

  Maggie smiled and said, “Well, I was going to wait until later, but I think it best that I show you now. Seems as though you need something to lift your spirits. Let me fetch your gown. The seamstress finished it late last night.”

  It took only a minute for her to make her way to the back of the room and around the corner where Violet’s clothes were kept. She returned with a dress like nothing Violet had ever seen. It was a deep, rich purple, with delicate lace at the ends of the sleeves and a fashionable high collar.

  “What do you think?” Maggie asked, smiling as if she held a chest filled with treasures. “The color certainly suits you. ’Tis stunning, eh?”

  “I suppose,” Violet said.

  Maggie laughed. “I suppose? Is that the best you can do, now? You are going to look magnificent tonight, Violet.”

  “The queen doesn’t think so,” Violet said.

  “I still can’t figure out why you did it,” Maggie said. “When you went to bed t
hat night, your hair was fine. The next morning, I come in, and I find you practically bald.”

  “As I’ve told you, Maggie, I had my reasons, and it’s best if I keep them to myself for now.”

  “May I ask what you did with your beautiful hair?” Maggie inquired. “When the queen scolded me for what you’d done, she asked me that very question. I told her I hadn’t seen a trace of it.”

  Of course the queen would like to know what she’d done with the hair, so she might salvage a strand for her spell. Well, Violet had made certain she would never find it. Violet raised her chin and proudly responded, “I disposed of it in the horse stables. You don’t want me to say more than that. Trust me.”

  Maggie wrinkled her nose. “Oh, heavens.”

  It made Violet smile, for a moment anyway, before her thoughts returned to the task at hand: getting out of the castle.

  Maggie studied the girl for a good, long while. Finally, she spoke, her voice soft and soothing. “Yesterday, I thought it was your fate to go from tower to tiara. Looking at you now, seeing something in your eyes I’ve never seen before, I am no longer certain. Whatever it is that’s going on, my love is with you, sweet Violet, and I am on your side. Always. Would you like some time alone, lass?”

  Does she suspect? Violet wondered. Does she suspect my plans for today?

  “I would indeed,” Violet said. “Thank you.”

  After Maggie left, Violet got out of bed and pulled out the pile of clothes Harry had snuck in for her. Her plan was simple. She would dress as a kitchen boy, and she would leave this place once and for all. But when she put on the trousers, they were much too large. And the drab tunic practically hung to the floor. Harry obviously hadn’t checked the sizing. With a groan of frustration, Violet took off the clothing and tossed it aside. She scurried to the wardrobe, grabbed the simplest dress she could find, and slipped it on. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. If one of the servants questioned her, she’d simply say she was in need of some fresh air.

  With that out of the way, she reached into her bed and grabbed the pirate figurine. She wanted to take it with her, for it would remind her to be strong and brave if the seas got rough. Of course, she hoped her escape would be smooth sailing, but there was no guarantee. In order to have her hands free, she tucked the figurine into her sash.

  As she turned to go, something out the window caught her eye. She moved closer to get a better look. What a strange sight, like nothing she’d ever seen before.

  A long line of color flew through the air. It went to the center of the garden and became a circle. A living, breathing circle. It took Violet a moment to realize what it was. But then she knew, and at the realization, she couldn’t help but smile. The birds had returned, joined by their friends, the butterflies, the bees, the dragonflies, and more. She’d never seen them fly in a circular fashion. It was almost as if they were in danger. Or trying to send a message.

  Before Violet left, she quickly scanned the chamber, for she knew she would never return. She’d either become a minstrel, happy and free, or be caught and sent to the dungeon. Her resolve only grew stronger at the thought—she could not fail.

  When her eyes landed on the harp, it pained her to think of leaving it behind. The instrument had been like a friend, soothing her nerves when she missed her mother desperately. She went to it and, soft as a breeze, strummed the lovely strings. Hopefully, if all went well, soon she would be traveling the world with her family, making beautiful music with them.

  A candle sat by her bedside, which she took and lit, using the fire burning in the hearth. Then, with candle in hand, she peeked outside her room. No one was coming, so like a mouse, she scurried down the hall and returned to the hidden door Harry had shown her. Fortunately, she slipped into the secret room without making a sound.

  It took a while, as the passageway did indeed twist and turn, just as Harry had said. But eventually, she found herself in a small room, similar to the one she had entered. She set the candle on the shelf in the corner, which appeared to be there for that very purpose, and hurried out the door and into the fresh air and sunshine.

  People were rushing about, all over the grounds, for there was much to be done on a day such as this. Fortunately, everyone was so busy that no one gave Violet a second look.

  33

  When Nuri awoke that morning, she lay there quietly, listening to the birds chirping in the nearby trees while she thought of her daughter back at the castle. She knew the day would be full of preparations for Violet. Preparations to make her the most beautiful princess in all the land.

  What did her dress look like? Nuri wondered. How would they do her hair? Would she be given a crown to wear? How she longed to be there so she could witness it all.

  Eventually, she forced herself to get up and take a bath in the rain barrel she’d found in the back of the property. After a meal of some bread and an apple, she made her way to the road, toward the market square.

  She hadn’t walked far when she heard feet pounding the dirt road behind her. The noise caused her to turn, curious as to who was coming and if someone perhaps needed help.

  It was a boy running toward her. A boy with a crooked nose, wearing a dirty tunic.

  Only a few other people were on the road, as it was late in the morning and most were already at the market square. No one else bothered to offer to help the boy. No one except Nuri.

  “What is it, lad?” Nuri asked when he approached. “What’s wrong? May I help you?”

  The boy stopped and stared at the woman, his breathing hard and fast. “I’m wondering, by the look of your clothes and the tambourine in your basket, do you happen to be a minstrel?” he managed to ask in between breaths.

  “Aye,” she said.

  He held his hand to his chest, as his breathing slowed slightly. “Do you know a woman named Nuri?”

  “Of course,” she said, curious as to why the boy would be looking for her. “That is I.”

  The boy smiled. “It is my lucky day. And yours, too! Hurry, you must come with me.”

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “I am Harry, a friend of Violet’s. Your daughter is planning to escape today. Not only that, I saw a group of minstrels at the front of the castle this morning. Perhaps it is your family, looking for you and Violet.”

  Nuri wanted to ask a hundred questions, but she knew the best thing was to get to the castle as quickly as possible. She grabbed her skirts into her hands and began to run alongside the boy.

  They ran past the chicken coop.

  They ran past farms where cows grazed in the field.

  They ran past folks who waved and called out to them, offering their assistance. Harry simply called back, “Do not worry, all is well,” as necessary.

  A while later, when the two approached the gates where the group of minstrels stood, Nuri slowed to a walk to catch her breath, and Harry followed suit. It didn’t seem real. Was it truly them, after all this time?

  As Nuri and Harry walked toward the group, the minstrels grew very quiet. Nuri’s eyes filled with tears of joy, and her hands began to shake. She dropped everything and ran toward her family.

  For a moment, it was total chaos as they reached for her, wanting to touch her as if to make sure she wasn’t simply a figment of their imagination.

  Her eyes searched and searched. Where was he? Why wasn’t he here, the first to greet her? She pushed herself away, toward where the guard stood, and that’s when she saw him. He stood there, watching from a distance, like a spectator trying to make sense of a new game. She wanted to go to him. To tell him how much she’d missed him and ask him why he hadn’t come for them like he’d promised.

  But something was wrong. She could sense it.

  Something was horribly wrong with Marko.

  34

  When the girl the birds loved came out to greet them, there was so much that was different.

  Her hair was different.

  Her clothes were different.r />
  Even the garden was different, for the one they’d known was gone.

  But none of that mattered because the young girl had the same smile, the same lavender eyes, and the same love for them she’d always had.

  “Oh, my dear ones, I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so,” Violet said from the middle of the circle, as she looked up at them flying around her. “We must leave this place, for it isn’t safe. Perhaps the queen can take away our special garden, but she will never take away our special bond.”

  “Don’t be so sure of that!” the queen called from behind Violet. “You listen, and you listen good. The birds are mine. The garden is mine. And for another year, until the hair on your head grows out, you are mine.”

  Peace and Pax watched as the queen approached the girl. Violet reached to her side and pulled something from her sash and held it tightly in her hand before she turned to face the queen.

  “I am not yours, you evil witch. I will never be yours, for I am strong and brave, and I have love in my heart, unlike you. And these birds will not stay with the likes of you. You are selfish and mean, and they want nothing to do with you. Beauty will not make people or birds or anyone love you.”

  “Enough!” roared the queen. “I plan to take you to the dungeon, where you will suffer greatly. You shall rue the day, young lady, that you cut your beautiful hair!”

  Peace and Pax flew to Violet, wanting to help her somehow. But they were so small, and the queen so powerful.

  As the two hummingbirds hovered in the air beside them, distracting the queen for a moment, one of Peace’s feathers fell and fluttered through the air, toward the ground. Violet and the queen both lunged for it, but the queen was a large woman and was not nimble like the small girl. The feather landed in Violet’s hand while the queen tripped over herself and fell to the ground with a thud.