My Unfair Godmother (21 page)

I tried my first ideas:
Don’t brag about things you can’t do. Make
sure your father doesn’t brag about things you can’t do.

Nothing stuck.

Finally I put down the book and rubbed my eyes. It was useless, and it was late, and there was obviously something that Clover hadn’t told me. I called him, knowing even as I did, that he wouldn’t come.

He was off playing poker and the best I could hope for was that he’d lose quickly and come back for more gold.

I picked up the pen again and wrote:
Poker is a terrible vice
.

Nope. It faded away as soon as I added the period at the end of the sentence.

I would have to escape on my own, and hope that I could figure out the right moral soon. I tucked the pen into its flap, then stood up, stiff from sitting hunched over the book for so long. I walked to the 194/356

nearest pile of straw, placed my hands on top of it, and whispered,

“Straw, gold, gold, gold.”

I felt a stab of pain in my chest, as though the power had ripped its way out of my heart, but the transformation was immediate. The straw under my hands was no longer light and prickly. It was a jumble of golden sticks. However, only the straw I’d been touching changed.

The rest of it still stood there, unaffected.

At this rate, it would take the entire night and then some to change all the straw.

I really did hope that if King John found the room filled with gold in the morning, he’d be more concerned with guarding, moving, and inventorying it than tracking me down. Could I add measurements to the chant?

I put my hands on a different patch of straw. “Straw mound, gold, gold, gold.” The pain was so bad I gasped and shut my eyes, but when I opened them the entire mound had been reduced to a pile of golden twigs.

That was faster. I waited for several minutes until it no longer felt like my heart was beating against razor blades, then walked to the next pile. It was a little bigger than the last and I winced as I put my hands against the coarse straw. I knew what was coming. “Straw mound, gold, gold, gold.”

Pain ripped through me as the straw collapsed into a golden heap.

I looked around the room. Seven more mountainous straw piles were pushed against the walls. “I
can’t
change it all,” I said aloud. “Not even King John needs this much gold.” But when the throbbing in my heart subsided, I walked to the next mound, and the next, until half the room was a glittering mess of tangled gold twigs.

Vague sounds filtered in from outside. Faraway commands boomed out from deep, distant voices. I had no idea what it meant.

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Was it a nighttime guard drill of some sort? I wished whoever was yelling would go to bed. It would be harder to escape if people were running around the courtyard.

I put my hand over my heart. It was no longer bleeding, and the pain was lessening too, or perhaps I was just getting used to it.

I was moving to the sixth mound when the door burst open and Hudson stepped inside. He gripped a large ax in one hand and had a look of grim determination on his face. I froze. It generally isn’t good news when ax-wielding men come looking for you. The cynical part of me said:
See, you always go for the wrong guys. He came here to kill
you.

Hudson’s gaze went to the beam where I’d been chained and his brows dipped in worry. He scanned the room, taking in the piles of gold, and then saw me. Relief flashed across his face, and he motioned for me to come to him. “We’ve got to go. The castle is under attack.”

“What?” That couldn’t be right. That didn’t happen in the story.

I grabbed the magic book and the candle. As I hurried toward Hudson, I cast glances at the ax in his hand. “Are they coming in here?

Is that why you have an ax?”

“I brought this to cut through your chain. How did you get free?”

“Clover helped me.” I didn’t say more, and he didn’t ask. I ran the rest of the way over to him, ignoring the jabs of pain the motion caused. My mind was focused on the words “under attack.” Well, most of my mind was anyway. The sentimental, romantic part was busy gloating over its victory against the cynical part.
He came to rescue
you, not kill you
, it said, and then it sighed dramatically.

We reached the door, but he didn’t open it. “Who’s attacking?” I asked.

“We don’t know.” Hudson dropped the ax and unsheathed his sword. “Some men put up ladders and were over the wall before the 196/356

watch could stop them. We can only see a few dozen men outside the wall, but they’re good shots and they’re keeping the garrison busy.” He opened the door a crack and peered out.

“Where are we going?” I asked. An attack on the castle meant I couldn’t escape tonight—not when guards were marching around inside the gates and dangerous men were on the other side.

“We’ve got to get the Gilead.”

He tried to pull me out the door but I resisted. “What?” I asked.

“You want to break into King John’s bedroom now?” Hudson let out a frustrated breath. “I left my post to get you, Tansy. Haverton didn’t want you freed, but I couldn’t leave you chained here while enemies were roaming around. Do you know what they’ll do when they find me?” He held a hand out in the direction of the castle. “King John is probably out with the captain of the guard. If you don’t want to wait for a wedding, we need to get the Gilead now.” I fingered the magic book in my hand. I hadn’t been able to make it work. Maybe it wouldn’t. The wizard might be our best bet to get home. “Okay,” I said, “let’s go.”

Scanning the darkness, Hudson led me onto the grounds. I kept pace with him even though each quick step sent shivers of pain into my chest. The candle flame jiggled in my hand, threatening to go out.

I didn’t want to go to the castle or be anywhere near King John—not when I knew what the story had planned for me next. It felt like no matter what I did, I couldn’t change the fairy tale. I was turning a page and heading right into the wedding dress portion of the book. I would spend my days guarded, turning things into gold while pain jolted my heart because I had an enchantment that was never intended for humans.

I was breathless when we reached the castle guards. Hudson told them that King John had sent for me and they let us through without 197/356

question. The castle was dim now. The torches hanging on the walls cast shadows that pooled across the corridor floors in crisscrossing circles.

Hudson held on firmly to my arm, so I couldn’t make a break for it. I wasn’t sure whether that was for show or if he really did worry that I’d have second thoughts about his plan.

A few of the people we passed gave me appraising looks, checking, I suppose, to see what the king’s fiancée looked like, but most of the servants ignored us. They were preparing for a full assault, carrying pots of boiling oil and huge stones to throw down on the attackers.

We reached a set of circular stairs. They were in a different part of the castle than the other stairs I’d gone up, but they were identical: jutting stones, no handrail, so narrow we had to go up single file. Hudson went in front, holding the candle up so that light spilled back to me. His long legs strode upward, outpacing me. My breaths came in labored pants and my heart started bleeding again. I knew because I could feel my dress sticking to my chest.

Hudson turned, saw me struggling, and came back. He held out his hand for me, then noticed the blood on my dress. He grabbed hold of my arm as though I might tumble down the stairs if he didn’t.

“What happened? Were you stabbed? Why didn’t you say something?” Between breaths, I said, “Rumpelstiltskin gave me an enchantment so I could turn things into gold myself. That’s where it attached itself.” I wiped at the spot. “Apparently I’m too tenderhearted.” He didn’t let go of my arm. He kept staring at the spot.

“I’ll be fine in a minute.” I looked up the stairs. “Probably.” Hudson took hold of my hand and we walked up the stairs slower.

He kept checking over his shoulder to see how I was doing.

“What if King John is in his bedroom?” I whispered.

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“I’ll tell him you were so worried about your safety that you begged me to take you inside the castle. I agreed and then you wanted to see him about something.”

“I can’t lie.”

“Then don’t,” he said. “
Want
to see King John. Think of something you want to tell him.”

Not hard to do. I wanted to tell him I wouldn’t marry him. I couldn’t say that though.

I thought about it for a few steps then decided I could tell him I had left some of the straw unchanged. People and animals both used it for bedding, so I could ask him if he wanted me to change something else into gold instead.

“What will we do once we have the Gilead?” I asked, half whispering, half panting.

“We’ll find a way over the walls.”

“During a siege?”

“It’s only a small group that’s attacking. It will be over soon.” Sooner than morning? “The fairy tale says my wedding is tomorrow.”

He glanced back at the book clutched against my side. “Isn’t that Clover’s
Change Enchantment
? I thought it was supposed to let you alter the ending so you could de-wed-ify tomorrow.”

“I’ve been trying to change the story, but I don’t know how.” I held the book up to look at it. “I’m not sure this thing is even working.”

“Sure it’s working.” He smiled back at me. “The original story has no mention of the handsome and dashing young guard who saved the miller’s daughter from her room on the last night.”

“Maybe the author left it out because he was killed tragically by falling down a dangerous staircase. Who built this thing anyway?” 199/356

Hudson’s breath was hardly even labored. “The stairs were made with defense in mind. People going up can’t use their swords in their right hands without banging them into the wall. So in a fight, the person coming down the stairs always has the advantage.”

“Great,” I said. “We’re going up.” I nearly stumbled, and his grip on my arm tightened.

He paused to let me catch my breath. I paused to hug the wall and consider all of the things a person could break while falling down the stairs.

Hudson watched my newfound affection for the wall. “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

“No, I’m fine with heights. It’s plunging to my death that worries me.”

He gave my hand a squeeze and pulled me slowly up the stairs again. “Just don’t look down and don’t think about it.” The best way to guarantee that you’ll think about something is to have someone tell you
not
to think about it. All I could think about were long, uneven circular steps that went up higher and higher so you could fall farther. “How did you learn that stuff about the stairs being built for defense?” I asked.

“I’ve been here for three months. You pick things up. I could tell you how they tan leather, forge steel, and salt meat.”

“Oh. All I’ve learned is how to take a bath with two inches of water.”

He laughed and I liked the warm sound of it.

Finally, we reached the third story, left the stairwell, and went down a corridor. The hallway was empty, but rows of tapestries hung on the wall. Wild-eyed unicorns and running boars stared at us through embroidered forests. We came to an ornate wooden door.

Hudson knocked. “Sire?”

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I waited, heart still pounding from the climb, to see if King John would answer.

Please don’t be there.
I pressed the book to my chest hoping this would magically help the wish come true.

No one answered. Hudson pushed the door open and we slipped inside. It was a sitting room of sorts, perhaps a place where King John met with visitors. We didn’t stop in this room, just walked through it to a door on the other side. Hudson knocked on this door as well.

“Sire?”

The seconds plodded by. No one answered here either. We crept inside and shut the door behind us.

Hudson held the candle up to better take in the room. The dim light revealed a large canopy bed—the original king size—a few chairs, a couple of small tables, a wooden chest, and dozens of gold spools.

They spread out over the floor. One had been unwound and lay draped across a chair. I wondered if it was my old friend Bob the spool.

Hudson and I padded around the room together, searching. I didn’t see any plants. We went to the table by the window. It was empty except for a bowl full of coins. I pointed at it. “I suppose that’s King John’s mad money.”

The corner of Hudson’s mouth lifted, but he forced back the smile and continued rummaging through things. As the candlelight fell on the gold, each spool shined.

“King John named all of those,” I said. “But then, that’s not surprising since he’s the sort of man who thinks money talks. Probably literally.”

Hudson was barely paying attention to what I said. His gaze swept around the room. “It’s got to be here. I’ve looked everywhere else.” 201/356

“Have you forgotten that King John is insane? He might keep it in his fish pond or his pantry or maybe he set up a little house for it with some friendly shrubbery.”

Hudson went back to the table by the window even though there were clearly no plants sitting on it. “He might be crazy, but he’s no fool. The plant is too valuable for him to—” He grunted as if he couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been, then bent down and looked under the table. At first I thought King John had thrown a robe down there, but once Hudson pulled the thing out, I realized we hadn’t seen the Gilead because we’d been thinking like people from the twenty-first century. In modern homes, you didn’t have to worry about keeping plants away from cold, drafty windows.

King John must have put the plant on the table during the day to get some sun, then covered it and moved it underneath the table to protect it during the night.

Hudson took the cover off, revealing a foot-tall bush. It seemed to be mostly twigs, with only a scattering of tiny oval leaves on its branches. Hudson smiled and took a knife from his belt. “There’s our ticket home.”

He cut a stem from the plant, making it look mournfully unbalanced. King John was bound to realize someone had hacked part of it off the moment he saw it.