by M. A. Larson
“It’s a personal matter,” said Evie. “His brother is an instructor at the Academy.”
“You’re joking,” said the King, his mouth hanging open. “They let one of them teach the good guys?”
“He’s an excellent instructor,” said Demetra.
“I’ve been trying to run those hooligans out of the Glade since I took the throne. Four have gone and never come back, but the two that are still here are the worst of the worst.” He dropped his elbow on the table with a clatter and pointed at Forbes with excitement. “My men are closing in on Rumpelstiltskin, though. Won’t be long now.”
“So you know where he is?” said Forbes. “Could you help us find the brother?”
“My boy, if I knew that, he would no longer be in the Glade. I run a tight ship here. I keep my forests clean. Wild, but clean.”
“What about the Gray Man?” said Basil, swallowing his bread.
“Bloody hell, are you looking for him as well? These are dangerous outlaws, children!” Silence fell over the dining hall like a laundered sheet whipped across a bed. The King slowly sat back in his throne. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you children. That was rude of me. You’re cadets from the Academy and you’re here on official business.” He picked up a yellow cauliflower and popped it in his mouth. “Last we heard, Rumpelstoatsnout was somewhere in the Wood of the Night. There’s a ravine at the far end of the valley, beneath the Dagger. It’s so deep that the sun can’t reach it; that’s how it got its name. I won’t send my men near it anymore, except on very rare occasions.”
“W-why?” said Basil. “What’s wrong with it?”
“The thing that’s wrong with it is exactly what you claim to be seeking. The Wood of the Night is also home to the Gray Man. If you’d like, you can find all your monsters at once.”
Basil gulped loudly. Then he took another bite of his turkey leg.
“Listen, chil— er, cadets. Far be it from me to advise you to disobey your orders, but this seems like an awful risk just to reunite two trolls. Especially with this storm. Why not go back to the Academy and tell them you couldn’t find him? Might save your own lives in the process.”
We can’t go back, thought Evie. There will be nothing left to go back to.
“That’s not possible, Your Majesty,” said Demetra. “We need to find Rumpelstoatsnout.”
“Well,” sighed the King, throwing up his hands. “I tried to help you.” Another sheet of rain slammed against the windows. “At least stay the night as my guests. We do get some tremendous storms in the valley. And your villains will still be there tomorrow.”
“Thank you very much indeed, Sire,” said Forbes. Another crack of thunder sounded just outside the castle.
“Then it’s settled. I’ll have a man take you to the Wood of the Night at daybreak.”
We’ve already spent one night in Malora’s carriage. And now another here. Who knows how many we have left?
As lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, the conversation turned to other royals whom Forbes and the King had in common. Pudding came, then tea, then more pudding, then cold meat and cheese. Basil piled it all dutifully into his mouth. Evie sat quietly as Forbes told the King stories of his first year of training. The King, for his part, couldn’t get enough. The Queen, however, kept shifting her eyes between Evie and Demetra in a way that both found deeply unsettling.
“Are you quite all right, my dear?” the Queen finally asked. The King and Forbes had entered into an endless discussion about hunting and sailing.
“What’s that?” asked the King.
“I’m speaking to Evie,” said the Queen. “Would you like to lie down? You’re looking a bit pale.”
“Yes, yes, show them to their rooms! Prince Forbes here will be along in a bit. After he tells me what baitfish he uses for sea trout.” He gave Forbes a wink and a rumbling chuckle.
The Queen stood, wrapping her long silken wrap around her shoulders twice. Then a third time. “Come, ladies.”
“Thank you very much for your kindness, Sire,” said Evie. “It has been a long journey.” Suddenly, she couldn’t wait to get to a bedchamber where she could talk to Demetra without anyone else around.
“Of course, of course, think nothing of it.” He waved his hand to dismiss her, then went right back to his conversation with Forbes. Basil was just helping himself to another turkey leg, so Evie and Demetra followed the Queen by themselves. They went up the stairs and reentered the vast entrance hall.
“It’s not often we get princess cadets here in Stromberg,” said the Queen. “In fact, I daresay you might be the first.” She led the girls to the grand staircase.
“I suppose there isn’t much call for us to be around Goblin’s Glade, Your Majesty,” said Evie.
“I didn’t even know this place existed until two days ago,” said Demetra.
When they reached the top of the stairs, the Queen led them to the left. She pushed open a wooden door carved with a serpentine dragon from top to bottom to reveal a turnpike stair, a spiral of stone wedges lit with candles that led to the upper floors. The Queen stood aside to let Evie and Demetra pass.
“Did you ever attend the Academy, Your Majesty?” asked Evie. After climbing a mountain earlier, she couldn’t quite believe she now had to climb even more.
“I’m afraid I never did,” said the Queen. “And I’ve always regretted it. So many friends trained there, and I always envied their titles. Princess of the Shield. There’s something quite special about that.”
Evie paused. Her legs were already burning, and her head was thinning from going around and around the stairs.
“Forgive me,” said Demetra, doubling over to try to rub the pain from her thighs. “I’m not used to climbing so much.”
“Just a bit farther,” said the Queen. “Not far now.”
Evie looked at Demetra, who nodded back. They started to climb again.
“My daughter has the title,” said the Queen. “It was one of the proudest moments of my life when I saw her receive her commission. Though I never managed the training myself, I could not have been more gratified to have raised a Princess of the Shield.”
“I suppose she’s off somewhere battling witches,” said Demetra, trying to pretend her muscles weren’t in flames.
“No,” said the Queen, and her voice had suddenly flattened. The soft, motherly quality it had had thus far was gone. “She’s here. Perhaps you’d like to meet her.”
“Maybe later.” Evie’s footsteps on the stone echoed through the turnpike staircase, but now she thought she could hear the sound of other footsteps as well coming up from below them. “I need to lie down first. Just for a bit . . .”
Her spiraling head continued to swirl as she collapsed. There was a pulse in her vision. Though she could still see things—two advisers hurrying up the staircase, the Queen looking down on her with sympathy—she could no longer speak. She felt herself being lifted into the air, then farther up the stairs. She swirled around and around. Every so often, her head would loll back and she would see the Queen behind her. The same look of pity was on her face, though she said nothing.
Around and around and around. Higher and higher and higher. Tower, thought Evie. Tower.
It was the only thought that could penetrate the endless, pulsing pressure in her head. Finally, after minutes or hours or days or years of climbing, the men stopped. Metal latches were thrown and lock tumblers were slid and a heavy wooden door crashed open. Hot air washed into the staircase from the lookout room. The advisers carried Evie inside and laid her down on a soft rug of sheepskin. They gently set Demetra next to her. The Queen stood sideways in her vision, fingers loosely interlocked before her.
“I’m terribly sorry it has to be this way,” said the Queen, “but I’m sure you’ll grow to love being my daughter’s friends.”
She straighte
ned and looked past Evie into the shadows. Torches flamed from the walls. Evie could see a table and chairs, some books scattered across the floor. One of the advisers was busy tidying the remains of someone’s supper back onto a serving tray.
“I’ve brought you some new playmates, my darling,” said the Queen. “Say hello to Evie and Demetra. They’re cadets from Pennyroyal Academy.”
Evie heard rustling behind her. The Queen stepped back and a woman emerged. Her skin was as white as the belly of a dead fish, her eyes almost completely black with dilated pupils. Stringy hair wafted from her head. She was barefoot.
“Hello,” said the woman. Her voice was as thin as candle smoke. She crept even closer, her crazed smile filling Evie’s vision. Evie, paralyzed from some unknown poison, couldn’t turn away from that gaunt, skeletal face. “Leatherwolf Company. You’re second-class girls.”
First-class, thought Evie, though she couldn’t say it.
“I was an Ironbone girl myself,” she continued. “Then it was Bramblestick Company and Crown Company. Of course, that was many years ago. But the Ironbone uniform always was my favorite. Look, it still fits. See?” Beneath layers of dirt and grime, Evie could make out the blue of the woman’s dress, hanging loosely from her body and torn off just above the knees.
Then the door slammed shut and the locks clicked and snapped and rattled and there was only the sound of torches burning and rain pounding and the strange woman’s breathing as she stared down at her new friends.
THE WOMAN PEERED out from the shadows like a wraith, her teeth brown, her cheeks hollow. “I know you,” she said, smiling at Evie with wide, darting eyes. “We’ve met before, haven’t we?”
Evie managed to push herself up. There was no comfortable way to sit, however. The walls had been cobbled together out of jagged fieldstones and hastily applied mortar. With a trembling hand, Demetra passed her a wooden cup. She drank. Her head was still thin and gauzy but becoming clearer by the moment.
“Why have they brought us here?” said Evie.
“Well . . . I suspect you’ve died. As I have.” Her voice was as thin as mist.
“What are you talking about? We’re locked in a tower, that’s all.” Evie glanced around now that her eyes had adjusted to the stifling darkness. The lookout room was small and quite claustrophobic. The only way out was the door they’d come in through. There were no windows, only slim smoke vents at the top of the domed ceiling, and they were narrow enough that she couldn’t have even gotten her arm through. The floor was the same fieldstone as the walls, though it had thankfully been polished to relative smoothness. There was a spinning wheel with thread next to the table. Small figures made of straw and fabric sat about the room. There were bears and dogs and dragons and humans. The woman’s friends, Evie supposed, before she and Demetra had been brought in to fill that role.
“This is surely a wasted question,” said Evie, “but I don’t suppose you know a way out of here—”
“Why do you say we’ve died?” said Demetra, cutting across her. “What do you mean by that?”
“Princesses aren’t allowed in the Glade.” Her eyes were wide, aglow in the wan candlelight. And no matter how much they darted about, they always seemed to end up back on Evie. “My father keeps things orderly round here.”
“So he told us.”
“When the witches came, my father struck a bargain with them. He had to. For the greater good.”
“What sort of bargain?”
“If he killed me, the witches would leave Stromberg alone. So Mother brought me up here, and I died. And the witches don’t come round anymore.”
“That’s why they drugged us,” said Demetra. “Having princesses in the castle would violate the bargain.”
The only other time Evie remembered her muscles feeling so paper thin and weak was after she had eaten a handful of strange berries in the forest as a child. She had fallen violently ill, and her dragon mother had wept many tears thinking she was about to lose her youngest daughter. Instead, Evie managed a recovery. But for weeks after, her muscles had trembled like they were doing now.
“Mother always told me, ‘Falada, someday I’ll find you a friend,’ and now—”
“Falada?” said Demetra. “Your name’s Falada?” Suddenly, she reached inside her dress pocket and took out the class portrait she’d found at the witch encampment. “Falada . . . Falada . . .” She unfolded it and found one of the many faces that had been crossed out. “That’s you, isn’t it?”
Falada crept forward, her eyes as wide as a possum’s. She studied the portrait. Her jaw began to harden. “And I’ve been struck out. I am very much dead, it seems.” Then she turned to Evie with a jagged smile. “I do know you, don’t I? You’re in my company as well. I recognize you!”
“No,” said Evie with sympathy. “I’m afraid I’m quite a bit younger than you. You’ve already graduated and I’ve only just finished my second year.”
Falada looked unsure. Her penetrating eyes began to water as she studied Evie’s face. “I’m sorry,” she said in a voice filled with sorrow. “I’ve been up here a long time.”
“Falada, listen,” said Demetra urgently. “This is my mother here. Did you know her?” She pointed to her mother’s face, one of the last without a mark. She was only three places over from Falada.
“Cadet Christa,” said Falada, and her face changed in an instant. It was as though seeing her old company had given her a thin tether back to reality. “Christa helped me survive the Helpless Maiden. I’ll never forget that.” She sat up straight as a horrible realization came over her. “Why are so many of us crossed out? What is this?”
“We don’t know,” said Evie. “We found it mixed in with a load of other papers.”
“May I?” said Falada. Demetra handed her the portrait. As she looked at the faces of her childhood company-mates, a bittersweet smile appeared. “Your mother is a remarkable woman.” She laughed, a sound as delicate as a bat’s wings. “I remember in our final challenge we had to infiltrate a mountain kingdom that had been taken by a witch. When we got there . . . I don’t know what happened. The first girls in . . .” She shook her head. “All their training left them. Our plan was ruined. We lost four of our company that day. Four girls who should be in this picture.” She handed it back to Demetra. “It was your mother who got us back on track. She took over the whole mission. She reminded us who we were, what we’d trained for . . .” She pointed at the picture of her company. “That group right there defeated the witch. Your mother is a true hero.”
Demetra looked down at the portrait in her hands in confusion. “Perhaps this isn’t my mother.”
“Of course it is, Demetra,” said Evie. “Why is it so hard to think your mother could be heroic? Look at you; you volunteered to come on this mission knowing how dangerous it would be.”
“You sort of forced me to come—”
“Because I know you. I know how courageous, compassionate, kind, and disciplined you are. And I’m not at all surprised to hear the same about your mother.”
“I just . . . I guess I never really asked about her life before my sister was born. Her princess life.”
“And you’ll ask her once we get out of here,” said Evie. “What can you tell us, Falada? There must be something we can use.” She tried to stand, but her head instantly began to spin and she fell to the floor.
“Careful!” said Falada, reaching out to rescue the cup before Evie could spill it. “No more water until tomorrow.”
Evie pushed herself against the wall, straining for breath.
“Is Princess Hazelbranch still there? She was my favorite of the House Princesses. So many favorites before I died.”
“You haven’t died!” snapped Evie. “You’re here with us. And we’re going to find a way out, all right? You and me and Demetra. We’ll do it together.” She hadn’t meant to get angry, but
the dizziness scared her.
“Princess de Boncouer was my favorite in second class. And Princess Rottweil. She taught me to speak with animals. I have rats now, but they’re not very good company. Not like real friends.”
Evie gritted her teeth and tried to pull herself up using the jagged stones of the wall. She made it to her knees, which held despite their violent shuddering. She tried to get to her feet, but the muscles in her thighs felt like overstretched fiddle strings. Finally, with incredible concentration, she clung to the wall, her fingers scraped and cut.
“Listen to me,” she said, staring directly into Falada’s eyes. “Pennyroyal Academy is about to fall. There are witches everywhere. If we can’t get out of this tower, it’ll all be over.” She began to press the stones, feeling along the wall for a loose bit of mortar or a hidden trigger. It was as solid as a shield. She glanced around the room, searching the shadows for anything that might help.
Table. Books. Rug. Smoke vents. Torches. Spinning wheel. Straw figures. Think, Evie, think . . .
“Every day I remember the witch your mother helped me kill,” said Falada. “That’s your final trial, you know. Your company has to kill a real witch.” Her eyes shot to Evie, then to Demetra. “Don’t tell anyone I said that! A Princess of the Shield never reveals Academy secrets! Please don’t tell them I told you!”
“We won’t,” said Evie absently.
“Please! Princess Hazelbranch will be so cross with me.”
“We won’t say a word, Falada.”
“Good. Thank you.” She smiled a melancholy smile.
Table. Books. Rug. Smoke vents. Torches . . .
“Do you want to hear about your mother’s heroism?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “It was in the mountains they call the Seven Dwarfs. The range to the east, near Devil’s Garden.” Falada’s voice had calmed as she stared at the floor, remembering. “Lödla, that was the kingdom they wanted us to clear. Not much of a kingdom, really. Just a castle at the end of a mountain path. Do you know snow? They had snow up there.”
