Princess of the Midnight Ball (16 page)

The younger set could not be expected to fuss over Hyacinth forever, though, and they drifted away to talk to Galen. Rose noticed that he was endlessly patient with them, not minding when Petunia unrolled one of his skeins of yarn to play cat’s cradle with the end. He sat Pansy on the arm of his chair and showed her how to knit.

Rose went over and sat in the chair across from Galen. He looked up at her, smiled, and went back to coaching Pansy, who finally set the puff ball he’d made for her aside to better use the needles. Mewing like a cat, Petunia came over and started to wind yarn around Rose’s skirts.

“So,” Rose said, and then couldn’t think of anything to say. “What was the war like?” she asked finally, feeling like a fool.

A shadow passed over Galen’s face, making Rose regret her question. “It was”—he glanced at Pansy’s bent head—“it was not pleasant,” he said shortly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to open any old wounds,” she said, contrite.

“Wounds? Were you ever injured?” Orchid came over, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“A few times,” Galen replied. “Nothing serious.”

“Oh.” She sounded almost disappointed. “Walter Vogel lost a leg. But he says it wasn’t in the Analousian war.”

“I know.”

Orchid pursed her lips. “Do you think it hurt?”

“I’m sure it did,” Galen said grimly.

“Were you with your cousin Heinrich?” Orchid persisted. “Did you see him die?”

Galen looked up, clearly startled. “Did you know Heinrich, Your Highness? I never met him.”

“Of course,” Orchid said. “We all knew Heinrich.
Especially
Lily.”

Rose interrupted before Orchid could say anything else. “Orchid, your hair is coming out of its ribbons. Why don’t you find Maria and have her fix it?” She smiled stiffly at Galen. “Maria is our chief maid.”

Grumbling, Orchid went into one of the bedrooms. She returned a moment later. “She’s asleep on Iris’s bed,” she reported. “And she’s snoring.”

“Oh, dear.” Rose glanced at the clock. “No wonder, it’s nearly eleven.”

“Shouldn’t your maids wait up for you?” Galen raised one eyebrow.

“Well, yes, but she can’t because …” Rose’s voice died in her throat, courtesy of the enchantment. She closed her mouth with a snap and looked at Galen. He gazed mildly back at her without the slightest sign of sleepiness. Her eyes widened and her mind raced.

Why hadn’t he fallen asleep as well? What were they to do if he was wide awake at midnight? Hope rose in her bosom. If Galen could resist the sleeping spell that had affected all the other suitors, then he might be able to uncover their secret and … what? Die horribly? She grimaced, her hope fading.

“Is something the matter?” Galen gave her a bland look.

“Oh, look at the time!” Jonquil jumped to her feet, almost knocking Hyacinth off the window seat. “I’ve got to change
my shoes and
—Why is he awake?”
She pointed in horror at Galen. Then she got ahold of herself, dropped her arm, and looked helplessly at Rose.

“If you’ll excuse us, I believe I need to talk to my sisters.” Rose smiled ingenuously at Galen as she untangled the yarn from her feet. She grabbed Petunia with one hand and Pansy with the other and all but ran into her bedroom. The rest of her sisters followed.

“He’s awake! It’s eleven o’clock!”

“Jonquil, keep your voice down,” Rose hissed. “Yes, he’s awake. I don’t know how or why, but he is.” She looked around. “Poppy, make sure he doesn’t eavesdrop.”

Grinning, Poppy went over to the door and opened it the barest crack. “He’s still sitting in the chair,” she whispered. “He put his yarn down, though, and he’s leaning back … he just yawned!”

Rose was a little suspicious of this, but she didn’t tell her sisters.

“There, you see?” Lily looked relieved. “It was just that Pansy and Petunia were climbing around him. That kept him awake. Now he’ll sleep and we can rest easy.”

“But …” Rose hesitated. “What if he did find out the truth?” Even speaking the words made her heart pound. “Would that be so bad?”

They all stared at her.

“Rose,” Lily said cautiously. She took Rose’s arm and led her away from the others. “Rose, what are you saying? There’s nothing he can do to help us—no mortal can. He’s in grave
enough danger as it is. If he learned the truth …” Lily shook her head sadly. “I hate to think what
he
would do if Galen tried to help us.”

“But we
need
help,” Rose said, her voice low and intense. “We can’t go on like this for six more years! Every night while we were ill we had to get dressed and dance until dawn; we’re lucky to have survived! Pansy is seven years old; she’s been dancing every night since she could walk. Another year and her sanity will break, I swear it. And you, can
you
keep on this way?”

“We don’t have a choice,” Lily said, shaking her head. Pansy had begun whimpering at Rose’s vehement words, and Lily picked her up and held her, though she was really too big for such treatment. “We must persevere. There’s no point in arguing about it, and neither Galen nor anyone else can help us. It’s folly to even let him try.” Lily paused, then asked delicately, “You do realize that this is a death sentence for him, don’t you?”

“No.” Rose shook her head. “Not Galen. He’s not like those useless princes. He knows how to fight, how to work. You of all people should appreciate that, Lily. Even if he doesn’t find a way to help us, he’ll survive.”

“I hope you’re right,” Lily said dubiously, but her cheeks had colored a little and a spark of hope lit her eyes. “Galen does remind me of …of Heinrich.”

Rose squeezed her arm.

“He’s asleep,” Poppy reported. “His head kept bobbing up and down for a while, but now he’s out cold and snoring.”

“Good, let’s get ready,” Jonquil said, and she flounced over to her dressing table to arrange her hair.

An hour later, when the sisters had all tied on their dancing shoes and arrayed themselves in their usual finery, Galen was sound asleep. Rose went over to him and tapped his shoulder, but he just snored on and she turned away.

Galen’s wing chair was turned toward the fire, so that the rug in the center of the room was mostly behind him. Still, Rose watched him nervously as Lily opened the secret entrance. His head had lolled against one of the wings in such a way that if he were to suddenly wake, he would be able to see them out of the corner of his eye. Lily went down the spiraling staircase first, and the rest of the sisters followed after. Still tense, Rose brought up the rear as they filed down into the darkness for the Midnight Ball.

As soon as Rose’s head passed down into the floor and out of sight, Galen leaped to his feet, yanked the purple cape out of his satchel, and threw it around his shoulders. Hugging the satchel close to his chest, he hurried after her. The portal in the floor brushed his close-cropped hair as it closed, and he bit back a curse.

He had feigned sleep, even though he was so keyed up that he couldn’t imagine closing his eyes. He’d worried that the snoring was a bit much but knew that he couldn’t stop once he’d started, and it seemed to convince the princesses.

Except for Rose. Rose was far too clever.

When she came up to touch his shoulder, he was terrified that she would see him peeking at them from under his lashes. In his relief when she turned away, he had almost forgotten to continue snoring. And then, incredibly, the rug had turned into a staircase leading down into the floor.

Rose stopped suddenly, and Galen nearly ran into her.

“What was that?” Her voice was breathless with fright. She spun around and Galen tensed, but she peered right through him.

“What’s the matter?” Lily called from the front of the line.

“I thought I heard footsteps. Heavy footsteps,” Rose said. “I feel like someone is following me.”

Lily held her lamp higher. “There’s no one there, Rose. How could there be?” She continued on down the steps, and the other princesses followed her.

“Just a draft, I suppose.” Rose sighed.

Galen did his best to creep silently down the stairs after that, breathing into the collar of his cape so that he wouldn’t blow on Rose’s neck. At last they came to the foot of the golden staircase, and Galen gaped at what lay before them.

All around was darkness, darkness that their lamp only dimly illuminated. But directly in front of them was a tall gate made of silver and set with pearls the size of pigeon’s eggs. There was no fence, only a gate, and beyond it a forest of strange pale trees.

Lily swung open the gate and the princesses passed through, with Galen at Rose’s heels. He dodged to the side as she turned and shut the gate behind them, closing the pearl-inlaid latch, and then they went forward into the forest.

To find a forest in this strange underground world was odd enough, but this was no ordinary forest. The trees were of shining silver, their branches spreading high into the blackness above them and glowing with their own light. The leaves rattled and chimed together, moved by a breeze that somehow
did not touch the humans: Galen’s cape was not stirred by any wind and the princesses’ hair was not ruffled.

Galen stared around in amazement at the forest, but the princesses passed through without comment. He realized that they must see this every night, and it no longer amazed them, if it ever had. The forest, then, was not their reason for coming.

The silver trees thinned and then stopped, and they were on the shore of a great lake. Beneath their feet coarse black sand glittered, and the water that lapped the shores was black and violet and deepest blue. Twelve golden boats with a single lantern hanging from each bow were drawn up on the sand, tethered to twelve tall statues.

Then one of the statues moved, and again Galen found himself hard-pressed not to curse aloud. They weren’t stone, but living beings: tall young men, stern of face and black of hair, dressed in ebony-hued evening clothes. Galen hesitated to call them human, however. There was something amiss in their bearing, in their pallor and the coldness of their expressions. With a start Galen recognized one of the figures as the creature the girls had referred to as Rionin, who had tried to climb into the princesses’ rooms weeks ago.

Surely nothing human could live in this sunless world, Galen thought. Whatever Rionin and his companions were, they were not mortal.

One by one the princesses took the proffered hands and were helped into a golden boat. Galen waited until Rose’s dark-haired suitor had seated her in the bow and was about to
push off into the strangely colored lake. Then Galen stepped into the boat and sat on the empty stern seat.

Each of the silent escorts sat in the middle seat and took up the golden oars. In perfect synchronicity, the twelve boats set out across the lake, the suitors rowing silently as one.

Their precision was somewhat ruined by Rose’s rower, however. Halfway across the lake he slowed, and Galen heard him pant a little.

“Is something wrong?” Rose had been gazing forward, but now she looked back at her escort.

“The boat seems a little heavier this time,” the rower said. His voice was deep and smooth.

Rose blushed. “Sorry,” she muttered. Galen stifled a laugh.

Ahead of them Galen now saw lights glimmering in the blackness. They did little to illuminate the lake, but the purplish flickers ahead showed that they were rapidly approaching … something.

The golden boats scraped on more gritty black sand, and at last Galen could see the source of the strange light. It was a great palace of slick black rock. The candlelight that flickered in the windows gleamed purple because the panes too were black.

One by one the princesses were helped out of the boats, and one by one they passed through the great arched doors and into the black palace. Hard on Rose’s heels, Galen followed. His palms were wet with sweat, but he focused on her slim back and reminded himself that he was invisible to the cold eyes of her escort.

Within the palace, the colors were much the same as the
water of the underground lake. Purple and blue and gray and black tapestries covered the walls. The floor and ceiling were gleaming black, and the furniture was made of silver, cushioned with silk in the same solemn colors as the tapestries.