Princess Juniper of the Hourglass
Page 22
“Is it everything you’d hoped for?” Alta asked.
“What?” Juniper said, surprised.
“When you set out to build your own kingdom, you said you wanted somewhere everyone could be who they were, find their own place and all. Have you found that here?”
Unexpectedly, Juniper’s eyes filled with tears. “I found it, and far more besides,” she said passionately. “I set out to make a summer kingdom, and instead I found myself a family.”
“As did I,” said Paul quietly from the back.
“And me,” added Erick.
“Me too! Me too!” chirped Tippy. “Not to take the place of Elly, like, but alongside her, you know?”
Then Leena stood, her purple skirts pooling around her. “We’re out of elderberry punch, so I’m just going to hold up my empty goblet, for I’ve something that’s gone too long without saying. Here’s to Juniper, ruler of Queen’s Basin and the best queen we could ever want. I’m proud to be your subject.”
The group erupted in cheers and stomping feet and clinking goblets.
There was a sound to her left, and Juniper turned to catch Root’s eye. “I’ve got something to say also,” he muttered, scuffing at the ground with his boot. “I want to express my abject apologies for my part in all the trouble. It’s true, all that you said earlier. I swear on my life that I’d no idea Cyril was working with the Monsians—but I did know he was set on disrupting the settlement and taking everyone back to Torr. To get you there, Princess Juniper.”
Juniper shook her head. “I should have guessed he was behind it all—right from that first stunt with Jessamyn and the horses. It was so obvious.”
“Wait, what happened with the horses?” Root looked from side to side, eyes widening in puzzlement as Alta and Erick described the destruction of the fences, the odd shapes Jessamyn had seen, and the theft of their mounts.
When they finished, Root shook his head vigorously. “Cyril and I caused a lot of mischief. Jessamyn, too,” he added quickly, over the girl’s scowl. “Stealing the food and wrecking the dining area and all. But this thing with the horses—we didn’t do it. That night we were setting up our camp and preparing for the next day. I have no idea what you saw that night, Jessie, but it wasn’t us.”
Juniper stilled. It made sense, of course. If Cyril had taken the horses, they would have been recovered by now. But in that case . . . this meant they had another enemy—one which had been kept away by the guards, presumably.
A shudder passed through her.
Who were these unknown attackers? Was it wild beasts, as they’d first thought—or could it be something even worse? She thought back to a few of her lookout sessions, when she thought she’d seen movement or odd lights in the distance. Could there really have been something—or someone—else out there?
Could there still be?
Juniper stood up and waved her hands. She would give this puzzle the attention it needed, but she couldn’t do that just yet. “Quiet down, everyone,” she called out. “This is disturbing news, but it doesn’t change anything. Most important, it doesn’t change what we need to do next. Cyril was wrong about so many things, but I’ve come to realize that in one thing he was right: We cannot sit here while our country is under attack. If the palace has fallen, if my father is truly held hostage”—she could hear her voice trembling, but pushed on—“and the rest of the country invaded, then we may be the only free subjects left in all of Torr. Cyril has done much to undermine our nation. But he has unknowingly also left us with a significant advantage.”
She raised the sheaf of parchments Tippy had recovered. “I’ve spent a great deal of time analyzing these lists, and they give much information about Monsia’s position and about their future plans. Cyril would have marched us all right into the hands of the enemy, which I could never support. But I’ve begun to wonder if there may not be something we can do in defense of our country. If we truly might be the only hope for the land of Torr, what responsibility do we hold to our nation?”
In each face, she could see a vivid reflection of the fear churning in her own gut. She made her voice as hard and strong as she could. “We are a small group, and of a certainty we cannot hit Monsia head-on. But if there is anything we Torreans are known for, it is that we do not easily give in. We may be few, but we are fierce. We may be outnumbered, but we do not ever accept defeat. Any foe who challenges one of us will awake on the morrow to find an army at his back. This is our heritage. This is the might of Torr. Why should this not also be our calling? For we are fierce, and we are ready, and we will not be broken. I say that we cannot know what we might do until we try.”
The faces around the circle looked greenish and queasy over their leftover fish soup. She softened her voice. “I am your queen, but I won’t be your dictator. I have come to believe that making all the decisions on your behalf doesn’t help anybody. We are a country, but we are also a strong fighting team, and when all voices are heard, we will be best able to make the noise that is needed. So, let us bring the matter to all. Who thinks we should make a solid plan for venturing to the aid of Torr?”
There was a pause while the settlers turned to each consider their neighbor. Then one hand rose into the air. Then another. Within moments, every hand speared enthusiastically up into the night.
Juniper leaped to her feet. “Yes! That is the true spirit of Torr. We shall group together and each lay out our best plans. Starting tomorrow, we shall bring order to this chaos. We shall determine what is to be done with Cyril. We shall plan our own invasion.
“But tonight? Tonight we shall enjoy the rest of this grand celebration. Tippy? Crank up the Musicker, for I’ve a pair of new dancing slippers and a yen to break them in.”
“Are you certain?” whispered Alta. “Surely it is past midnight already.”
Juniper reached out and caught the other girl’s hand in a warm squeeze. “Who cares? We’ve no timepiece, and no schedule to drive us. We can go as late as we like.”
Queen Juniper’s Schedule for Tomorrow
Unknown
Acknowledgments
STORIES BEGIN IN ALL SORTS OF WAYS, AND Princess Juniper of the Hourglass has roots that go especially deep. I wrote the original opening scene—a naïve, spirited princess asking her father if she might have a country for her birthday—back in 2004, as I sat in my basement office, dreaming of one day publishing a book for children.
But the heart of the story goes back even further. It goes all the way back to my own childhood: to sun-drenched summer days when I felt like a queen of my own outdoors; to the wide-spreading tree in our yard, with the huge stone wheel that leaned against it and made it just right for climbing; to my down-the-road neighbors who let my friends and me use their spare caravan for after-school play, stocking it with snacks and other goodies just right for playing house. It’s got roots in my childhood favorites The Railway Children and The Secret Garden and Little House on the Prairie, and most especially Enid Blyton’s obscure gem The Secret Island, about a group of friends who run away from home and set up a “house” for themselves on an island.
But the spark that took all of this from idea to book came about quite unexpectedly. None of it would have happened without a certain lunch conversation I had with my wonderful editor, Jill Santopolo. As we talked casually about royalty, then princess stories, I remembered that scene I’d written nearly a decade before. Somewhat offhandedly, I mentioned it to Jill. Her eyes lit up . . . and from there, things came together more quickly than I could ever have imagined. I’m so grateful to Jill for seeing Juniper’s potential, and for her skillful guidance in coaxing her to life. I also am deeply indebted to Michael Green, for his extraordinary helmsmanship, to Talia Benamy, for her sharp eye and critical support, and to all the wonderful and talented team at Penguin for their tireless efforts on Juniper’s behalf.
As always, I couldn’t do any of this witho
ut Erin Murphy, my phenomenal agent; thank you for doing what you do so well. And to my wonderful critique partners and friends who have read this manuscript at various stages and offered much-needed input: Nancy Werlin, Julie Berry, Debbie Kovacs, Sarah Beth Durst, Natalie Lorenzi, Julie Phillipps, and Kip Wilson. Two separate conversations were especially enlightening and took my plot in important new directions: Thank you to Eric Luper and Nancy Hightower.
Above all, I am most grateful to Zack, Kim, and Lauren, for their unflagging enthusiasm and support. A thing’s not real until I share it with you, and that’s a fact. And a giant squishy hug to all the Paquettes and the Neves—what a great tribe we have!
In closing, a word about words: Astute readers might notice some unusual vocabulary sprinkled throughout this story. As anyone who knows me will confirm, I adore words. Discovering new ways to say familiar things is one of my favorite pastimes. So you’ll understand what delight I found in this story’s old-fashioned setting: It was the perfect excuse to seek out lists of archaic, obscure, out-of-the-ordinary words. I wove these in where they felt natural, and they make me smile each time I see them. I hope some of them might find their way into your vocabularies, too. As for me? I’m already stocking up my word list for book two.
See you back in Torr!
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