Princess Juniper of the Hourglass

by Ammi-Joan Paquette

Root’s eyes flashed with momentary hurt, then he shrugged and spun around. “I don’t know what I was thinking in making that offer,” he snapped. “Let’s go, Juniper. Cyril’s waiting.”

  Juniper couldn’t get out of there quickly enough.

  As she scrambled up the slope toward the dining room, she heard the scuffling of feet from the opposite direction. She quickly broke into loud song to accompany the Musicker, which had launched into a rollicking tune.

  • • •

  The Confection materialized out of the darkness, edging into the circle of candlelight like a cream-frosted sun. A gasp went around the room. Cyril sat up rod-straight, a giant smile splitting his face. Juniper knew what had his attention: At the very top of the cake was Leena’s crowning creation—a pillow of painstakingly stitched orchid petals, stuffed with wild greens. On the pillow rested the Argentine Circlet, which played off the candlelight in bewitching shimmers.

  Juniper scooted forward, out of Root’s reach. All eyes were on the cake as it was wheeled slowly across the uneven ground toward Cyril’s throne. Toby moved slowly with the effort of dragging the cart, as though the Confection were very heavy indeed. Juniper slid in front of him and inched forward, matching the cart’s pace step for step.

  Cyril sat back on his throne, greed and anticipation fighting for control of his features.

  Toby brought the cart to a halt.

  Juniper turned, stretched up, and, reaching carefully so as not to get any cream on her peacock blues, lifted the orchid-petal cushion in both hands. Holding the circlet like this brought back so many memories—her mother’s slim hands raising it for her to see; her father setting it on her head during her eleventh Nameday ceremony; the dull pang she had felt seeing it in the cave for the first time upon their arrival.

  She needed to focus.

  It all came down to these next few moments.

  Stretching out her hands, palms up, with the pillow and circlet balanced flat atop them, Juniper inclined her head and hunched her shoulders.

  She did not relax her knees.

  “We have gathered here today,” she said reverently, “to witness a coronation.”

  And then she paused, and in that pause, the night came apart. The Musicker abruptly stopped, and in the silence, a wind rushed through the room, puffing out every candle and leaving just the faint glim of the luminescent berries amongst the hangings.

  And then—

  The Confection exploded.

  In the near-dark room it was like a faintly glowing volcanic eruption, as cream and fruit caromed everywhere, and a giant, blanket-covered shape erupted from the froth. This shape soon threw off its covering and became two bodies, yelling at top volume. One was Erick. The other was a girl dressed in a peacock- blue kirtle. Her elaborately braided hairstyle was piled high upon her head and draped down across half her face, courtesy of Erick’s new hairstyling skills.

  Juniper caught Alta’s eye and smiled. “Well done,” she whispered.

  Ducking into the deeper darkness outside the dining area, Juniper grabbed at her own hairdo, pulling out a handful of pins and shaking it loose and wild. From the pocket of her dress she pulled out a leather cap, which she jammed on her head and pulled down over her eyes. She tugged off her blue overdress, folded it, and stuffed it under a bush, setting the Argentine circlet carefully on top.

  Then she moved stealthily back toward the hubbub.

  In the center of the crowd, Cyril yelled for light. Jessamyn was letting out shrill animal yips from the far edge of the room. Root and Filbert were struggling to light their torches while standing on either side of Cyril with spears aimed uncertainly outward. The other kids stumbled around in confusion, yelling and calling out questions. Tippy perched on the Confection cart, stuffing herself with chunks of cake that had survived the calamity.

  “Psst!” Juniper called, and cocked her head.

  Tippy did a double take, then opened her eyes wide. “Well done,” she said. “You’re the spitting image. But where is . . .”

  A few of the candles were relit by now, and struggling groups of kids could be seen, dotted with splashes of creamy lemongrass-infused topping. Cyril was waving his arms and yelling at his guards. His own sword was out and at the ready. This small group converged on Erick and on Alta, who lowered her chin and backed away from the light of a nearby torch. The precaution wasn’t needed, though. In the dim half-light, Juniper could hardly believe that she wasn’t looking at herself in a reflecting glass.

  But she had no time for reflection.

  “Stand down!” Cyril bellowed at the crowd. “The princess is surrounded. Her little coup has failed. Stand down, everyone!”

  Satisfied with his conquest, Cyril took a step back while Roddy, Filbert, and Root advanced on Erick and Alta. He didn’t relax his sword, though.

  “Now, now, Princess,” Cyril crooned. “What do you and your little book boy hope to do against my three fighters? I don’t want to hurt you, but trust me, I will if you make me.”

  Erick moved in front of Alta as one of the sconces flared bright. In the flickering light, Alta seemed to be cowering. But Juniper could see her knees flexing and her body crouching into an attack pose. Erick stood as straight as a sapling, only a faint shake in his hands betraying his nerves at having to use his all-new fighting skills.

  “Go!” Cyril bellowed. “Subdue them—do whatever it takes!”

  Root, Roddy, and Filbert charged.

  “Now!” said Alta.

  She shot out from behind Erick and kicked at Roddy’s legs. Roddy fell hard, and she grabbed his spear, swinging the flat end hard into Filbert’s back and toppling him. Erick seemed paralyzed for a moment, then shook himself and pulled a pointy stick out from his sleeve. He jumped toward Root, waving the stick in a way that was probably meant to look menacing.

  “Attack!” Cyril yelled, taking another step back.

  Root paused. He looked at Cyril, then at Alta, who was fighting Roddy like some kind of a dervish, not slowed one whit by the lack of her sword. Abruptly, Root turned his spear sideways. “Here,” he said, and tossed it at Erick. Then Root spun around and dove on top of Filbert, who had just struggled to his feet. Root pinned the other boy to the ground while Alta and Roddy grappled on.

  The rest of the kids stayed rooted to their spots, watching the fight with wide-open mouths. Juniper passed quietly among them. She slipped behind Cyril, who stood with red face and clenched fists. She hooked her arm around his neck, pressing something cold and sharp right above his collarbone. She felt him freeze, then swallow.

  “Drop your sword,” she whispered.

  “J-Juniper?” he said incredulously. “But—but you— You’re over—” He tried craning his neck, apparently trying to reconcile the sound of her voice in his ear with the sight of her lithe form thoroughly routing Roddy’s best fighting moves.

  “Now!” she demanded.

  Cyril dropped his sword with a clatter, his body rigid.

  “Citizens of Queen’s Basin!” Juniper called, her voice so strong and fierce that all activity ceased immediately. She kicked Cyril’s sword out into the bushes, then walked him forward until she stood directly under a lighted sconce. There she shook her head hard until Alta’s cap slid off her head, and her own long hair tumbled down over her shoulders.

  At the same time, Alta yanked a ribbon out of her bodice and whipped it around her forehead, demolishing the updo and bringing her own features to light. “Infernal lady hairstyles,” Alta muttered.

  A collective gasp went around the room, and Juniper took in a deep breath. This was it—this was the moment of truth. In her best plans, she would be standing here knowing that the whole group was behind her. Knowing she’d recaptured the loyalty of her people in advance, that they were all on her side.

  Instead . . . where did she stand? She couldn’t hesitate or wait to find out. S
he had to take the plunge.

  “Citizens of Queen’s Basin,” she called again. “You have lived under Cyril’s rule. You have seen his leadership in action.” She took a deep breath. “Tell me that this is what you truly want, and I will let him go right now. I will willingly go back to my imprisonment.”

  The room was deathly silent.

  “Tell me that you enjoy having no responsibilities whatsoever, no rules, nothing to do all day long.” She swallowed. “No country to be proud of.”

  “Cyril’s a pig!” Tippy shouted, shaking one creamy fist in the air. “A mess-making pig!”

  “He’s never once lifted a finger, not since the day we got here and certainly not when he was our ‘king,’” added Leena.

  “I’ve heard tell that Cyril was the one behind the attacks on the camp,” Toby broke in. “Is that really so? All this time, he’s been sneaking to the goats and chickens, stealing food right out from under us?”

  All eyes turned questioningly to Juniper. “It’s true,” she said, tightening her grip on Cyril’s neck, lest he should try to get away. “And there’s something else you should know as you make your decision. Our Tippy has paid a visit to Cyril’s camp and has discovered this: Cyril has not only turned against my rule. He has betrayed his own country. Our country. Cyril is working hand in hand with the Monsian army, who are even now invading Torr.”

  Cyril opened his mouth to protest, but Juniper snapped, “Don’t bother denying it. If I’m right, you’re proud of that alliance, aren’t you? You think you’re actually on the right side!”

  She saw his cheeks flame and guessed that his pride was fighting his reason. He glanced around the circle, perhaps seeing himself outnumbered. His lip curled up. “Very well, you’ve found me out. But there’s another thing you’re right about—we are on the winning side. This puny so-called country is nothing, and when my father is sitting on the throne of Torr, as he likely is already, you’ll see then who is the one giving the orders.”

  “I think we’ve heard enough from you,” said Juniper shortly.

  “Queen Juniper!” someone yelled, and soon the whole group was chanting. “Hooray for our queen! Hooray for Queen Juniper of the Hourglass!” Juniper looked from one side of the room to the other, at the crowd of settlers chanting her name. Even Jessamyn, looking red-faced and subdued, gave a halfhearted cheer, her fingers straying to smooth her fine silk skirts. And Root’s voice boomed over them, loudest of all.

  Erick and Alta each stepped forward and grabbed Cyril’s arms. Juniper said loudly, to be heard over the shouting: “Cyril Lefarge, you are the traitor here. And you are finished.”

  With that, she loosed her hold on him, pulling back the sharp object she’d had at his neck—her own bone-carved comb. With a grin, she lifted the comb up and ran it through her hair, happy to be rid of that intolerable updo.

  And of Cyril, too.

  Then she slid the comb back into her sleeve, until the next time she’d need it. As Alta tied Cyril’s hands behind his back, Juniper looked around the room, firelight reflecting off the still, drawn faces. “I’ve had a lot of time to think during the last few days, and there’s something I want to say. No, wait a moment, Alta. I want you to hear this, too. And Cyril.

  “Look, some of the things Cyril first called me out for were true. I am a new ruler, and it’s certain that I’ll make mistakes along the way. Have made mistakes—like not telling you what was going on back home. I wanted to protect you, but I’ve learned that the truth isn’t ever something you should protect others from. Truth is what we set our rule by, and that is what I pledge to you from this moment onward.” She paused and grinned. “Oh, one more thing: Erick is actually fourteen. He’s older than me, and I’m okay with that. Age is important in some ways, but . . . not so much in others. I don’t know why I thought that was such a big deal when we started out.”

  She took a deep breath. “We began as a rough-and-tumble team. You hardly knew me, and I didn’t know you at all. Over the last weeks, though . . . all that’s changed. I’ve come to see each of you not just as the job you fill, maid and cook and builder and guard. But I’ve gotten to really know you. For instance, Leena, you’re an incredible cook, but you’re a leader, too. You run this kitchen like an army general! Roddy—if we can dream it, you can build it, but you’ve as much of an eye for beauty as function, and that’s saying something. Erick’s read more books than the rest of us put together, and for all his book sense he’s got heaps of common sense, too. Tippy is the life of every party, and where would any of us be without her? Alta is the bravest person alive, and we owe the security of our camp to her entirely. Filbert’s got the strength of an ox. Paul could bring a stone to bud with no effort at all, and he’s absolutely monsterful on the dance floor. Sussi is never without a kind word and brightens every day with her smile. Toby has the gentlest hands I’ve ever seen, and you can see proof of that by how the animals follow him all around their pens. Oona knows her own mind, and once she decides on a plan, that’s her course. Root—well, I’ve come to revise my opinion of you; there’s a lot more there than I gave you credit for, and I respect the way you can set your own path against strong odds. Jessamyn . . .” She caught the other girl’s eye and smiled. “Well, you have simply fabulous taste in dresses.”

  The group was quiet. Juniper swallowed. “The lot of you, you’re the best subjects I could ever have asked for. Though we all came together a bit haphazardly, I think we’ve got the makings of a truly fine country. But for that to happen, we need to stick together. And we need to do what we set out to do.”

  She looked around the gathered crowd. “We need to be a team. So I must know: Who is behind me as the rightful ruler of Queen’s Basin . . . and who wants to side with Cyril?”

  There was a moment of silence, then Oona stepped out from the crowd, eyes wide but chin lifted. “I’m with Cyril. Forgive me, Miss Juniper. I admire all you’ve done here, but Cyril has my vote, and I’m not changing it.” She slid over to stand by Cyril, placing a hand protectively in his.

  “Oona!” cried Sussi, leaping to her feet. But Toby shushed his little sister and wrapped her in his arms.

  Juniper waited, but when Oona’s expression didn’t change, she said quietly, “Very well. Erick, please escort Oona as well. Anybody else?”

  To Juniper’s vast relief, there wasn’t. “Go on, then,” she said. “Let’s get these two relocated.” Suddenly she felt exhausted.

  Then Tippy’s shrill voice piped up. “What a time, ye people, what a time! But if I was you all, I’d set my sights on demolishing what’s left of this here cake. For it’s some true masterpiece, and I am personally avowed to eat every last crumb and morsel I can fit!”

  Cyril was dispatched with no further fanfare, and something in the group relaxed at his departure. The loss of Oona caused a little more unease. But Juniper was not really surprised at the girl’s choice: She’d never seen Cyril speak so much as a word in Oona’s direction, but the girl had been besotted with him from the start. Though Toby tried to get her to see reason, Oona had crossed her arms in silent defiance, leaving them no choice but to lock her up as well.

  The moment Erick and Alta came back from their unpleasant mission, Juniper called everyone together. After seeing the last of the candles relit, she stood in the splash of light and looked out upon her subjects. They sat in their usual circle—tired, scruffy, but with mouths full of cake and faces alight with restored balance.

  Something in Juniper warmed as she looked around the familiar group. She wasn’t hiding in the shadows this time, afraid to be seen, like she’d been at the fateful palace dance party that had started this whole adventure. She was one of them now, sitting right up in the midst of the circle. And there they all were: Erick, sitting near a pile of leather-bound books and somehow managing to read three at once; Alta, reunited with her sword and lovingly polishing it with a soft cloth; Tippy, buzzing fr
om seat to seat, clearly about some devious plan or another; Leena, lounging with arms crossed as she watched the satisfied faces enjoying her food; Root and Jessamyn, sitting as far apart as possible, as though to distance themselves completely from their last few weeks’ association; and Roddy and Sussi and Paul and Filbert and Toby, each talking and laughing and smiling.

  Her people. Her subjects.

  And . . . also, in some new and precious way, her friends.

  She’d done it. She’d saved her kingdom. There was so much still to do—but in this one thing, in this first step, she’d succeeded. Before she went any further, though, there was something she had to say.

  She came to her feet, and the hum of noise quieted. “I do owe you all an apology,” she began. Juniper studied each of their faces in turn. How could her Comportment Master have been so wrong? There was nothing weak about apologizing—on the contrary, Juniper felt the words filling her with hot new strength. “I was wrong not to tell you about the letter from my father, to keep from you the details of the invasion of Torr. And I know I worked you far too hard.” She smiled ruefully. “I had a lot of time to think when I was in Cyril’s little dungeon, and one thing I kept coming back to was the importance of having balance.”

  “Ah, Your Highness,” said Leena, “we don’t hold that against you none.”

  “We certainly don’t,” cut in Toby. “You do get all strict and ruler-like, but you mean well, and your heart’s in the right place. Cyril said and did the right things, what we thought we wanted. But deep down, he was serving his own ends. That’s the difference between you two. That’s why we’re all for you, miss.” And, as he had back in the stables on that day so long ago, he put both thumbs up and flashed her a big, bright smile. And Juniper knew that everything would be all right.

  “We’ve come through a lot, citizens of Queen’s Basin,” she said, hooking her arms behind her back. “And I fear that what’s behind us is just the smallest bit of what’s still to come. Cyril has wreaked havoc on our camp since the moment we arrived, but despite this, we’ve come through stronger than ever—and look at what we’ve accomplished!”