Tangled Magick (10 page)

Poppy and Mae exchanged a look.

The queen shivered. Her lips took on a blue sheen.

“Would you like us to start a fire?”

“No,” Huldfrejya said. “Just cover me up. I am so weary.”

Mae and Poppy pulled the covers up as the queen closed her eyes. They closed the bed curtains as quietly as they could. The mood in the chamber was somber. The enchantment on
the castle felt exceptionally heavy tonight. Walking around the bed, Mae joined Poppy in front of the hearth.

“Do you think she'd notice if we started a small fire? Just for a bit of warmth?” Poppy whispered.

Mae shook her head. “I don't know what to think anymore.” Mae picked up the parchment packet. The chamber was silent as the two girls stared at each other. Mae pried the wax seal off the packet and smelled the contents. They burned her nostrils and smelled like burnt marshmallows and the stinky cheeses old Mr. Longburrow made. There was also a hint of a metallic odor. Mae wondered what kind of medicine Geindride had made for the queen. She dumped some of the contents of the packet into the goblet and held it out to Poppy, who had grabbed the water pitcher.

“Look, Mae,” Poppy said. She gestured to the path of moonlight creeping toward the queen's bed as she poured the water.

“I see it.” Mae mixed the medicine by making the water swirl in the goblet, and Poppy pulled back the bed curtains. In sleep, the queen's face had softened. No traces of the permanent snarl remained. The creases on her forehead had smoothed, and her breathing was deep and even. As the full moon rose, the pale light inched up toward her face. At first Mae thought it was a trick of the moon when the green tinge drained out of the queen's skin, but no, Huldfrejya's skin glowed rosy in the moonlight. Next to the bed, the shiny surface of a mirror winked. Mae set the goblet on the table and picked the mirror up.

Her face was smudged with dirt. The corners of her mouth were still greasy from mowing down the chicken legs. What was left of her hair was a tangled mess. The moonlight caught the corner of the mirror and traveled across the room to light up the gargoyle over the hearth. He blinked from the beam of light, and his pointed teeth twinkled.

Twinkled.

Like a leyna charm! What would a leyna charm be concealing on a gargoyle? Mae set the mirror back on the table and shook the queen's shoulder. Huldfrejya blinked her eyes open. Mae held the goblet to the queen's lips. As soon as the liquid was gone, the queen closed her eyes again and the moon path receded from the room.

Mae jumped from the bed as the wrinkles on the queen's face returned, deeper and more pronounced than before. Her back curled, and her fingernails lengthened into sharp points. A hair-raising snarl roared from her throat. She pulled at her hair and arched her back. She kicked at the covers as her toes scrunched up and her legs bent unnaturally.

“What did you do?” Poppy gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “Did you give her too much?”

“Th-that's not medicine,” Mae stammered. She threw the goblet across the room and grabbed the packet of potion prepared by Geindride. She dumped the contents into the hearth. The hearth flashed into flame, throwing a monstrous shadow against the castle wall. As the flame died, the shadow slunk to the floor and the queen fell into a restless sleep, snorting and blowing like a boar.

Poppy yanked the curtain closed and stomped over to Maewyn. “What is happening?”

Maewyn whacked herself in the forehead with the palm of her hand. “The potion Geindride gives the queen is what makes her look and behave like a troll. As the moon struck her, her skin was almost pale—there was hardly a green tinge to it. And then I went and gave her that stupid potion.”

“There was no way you could've known, Mae.”

“But I knew he was not a nice man. I should've known better than to give her something from him.”

“I don't know much about magick, but Geindride said she needs to take it for three days,” Poppy said. “So maybe the change isn't permanent until she does?”

Mae chewed on her fingernail. “You might be right. I guess we won't know until tomorrow, though.” Mae sighed and changed the subject. “Did you see the corley thistles in the field?”

“Yes. I hope we can gather some before the first hard frost,” Poppy said, crossing to the windows. She blew her breath on a pane and drew a flower into the fog.

“We need to go out the window, like you said,” Mae said. “Callum wouldn't like that I'm giving up, but healing the villagers is more important to me than breaking the spell on the castle.”

“No,” Poppy said. “I take back what I said. We have to break the spell before we can leave.”

“But how can you say that?”

“Because if we can save the queen from being a troll, we should. No one, hapenny or human, should suffer such a fate. And I have faith in you,” Poppy said. She smiled at Mae. “You saved our whole village from an army of trolls. You can figure out a way to beat the dark magick and get the twelve of us out of this castle.”

Mae shivered. “This
enchanted
castle,” she corrected Poppy. “Fifteen if we include the queen, Folkvarus, and Gilda.”

Poppy sank to the floor in front of the hearth. “Hopefully the queen will return to normal when she doesn't receive any more ‘medicine.' We just have to figure out a way to convince her that it is for her own good.”

Mae dropped down beside Poppy and drew out the apples and muffins in her pockets. “I always think better on a full stomach.”

“I didn't have much room to stow away food because I had this in my pocket still.” Poppy drew out her lopped-off braid and ran her hands down the silky hair.

Mae stared at the ropelike lengths. “That's it!” She snapped her fingers and reached for the braid.

“What's it?”

“I've been trying to figure out just how to get the message to the Wedge.”

“And?”

“Your hair,” Mae said as she untied the ribbon. “We can make a rope collar out of it.”

Poppy stared at Mae. “And?”

“Leif will know it's yours,” Mae insisted. “And he'll know that you'd never cut your hair unless you were in trouble.”

Mae unwound the braid and separated the chunks. Then she began to rebraid the strands into a smaller rope. Mae's eye strained at the work as the room got darker. She took her wand out of her pocket and pointed it at the hearth. “
Smelder
!”

A small fire popped and crackled to life, providing just enough light for Mae to finish braiding.

“What if the queen wakes up?” Poppy asked.

“Hopefully she won't,” Mae said as she pocketed her wand. “The hearth should be cold by morning if we don't feed it. Here, hold this.” She handed the braid to Poppy, then took her wand and the carving from her pocket. “Put the braid on the floor.”

Poppy laid the braid in a ring on the floor and Mae settled the owl in the middle of it. She laid her wand against the carving, closed her eyes, and pictured the Wedge. She tried to think of what it might look like from an owl's perspective. She held the image of the forest and the river, and the enchanted bridge with the four raven sentinels. Then she pictured Leif fishing by the river, romping in the pumpkin patch, and slopping the pigs on his farm. The she imagined her house with Aletta busy in the kitchen. She could see her through the crisscrossed leading on the window.

Poppy gasped and let out a little giggle. Mae heard the flapping of wings, and she opened her eyes. The yellow stare of a great horned owl looked back at her. Mae ran her hand over the owl's smooth feathers. “Thank you, friend.”

The owl made a deep hooting sound, her chest moving in and out quickly with her call. She opened her beak and her little tongue panted like a dog's. Mae checked to make sure the braided loop wasn't too tight around her neck. Poppy was hesitant to touch the bird, but finally she reached out and ran her fingers down her back. The owl shook her body and stretched her wings. Her head turned toward the broken window.

Mae offered the owl her arm, and she flapped up on her shoulder instead. She was heavy! Poppy grabbed Mae's arm and helped her stand up, then rushed to the window to pull out the material she'd stuffed in the hole, glancing at the ruffling bed curtains as the cold wind rushed into the room.

“Hurry!” Mae whispered. The last thing she wanted was for Huldfrejya to wake.

The owl hopped from Mae's shoulder to the windowsill. Thrusting her head through the broken pane, she scooted out of the castle and dove from the wall, spread her wings, and soared. Mae and Poppy watched her glide through the air until they couldn't distinguish her from the trees anymore.

Poppy had started to shove the material back into the broken pane when they heard the pounding of hooves below. Geindride was riding a horse out of the castle yard, in the same direction the owl had just flown.

“I hope he doesn't see our owl,” Poppy said.

Mae's arms felt like lead, and her eyes were sandy with sleep. She stuffed the remainder of Poppy's hair into the back of the queen's wardrobe just in case they might need it. Then she lay on the cold floor. She didn't even have the energy to take off her boots.

She felt Poppy snuggle next to her and pull something over them before she fell asleep.

M
ae awoke with a start. Huldfrejya was looming over her, a deep scowl on her face. Fangs gleamed out from under her top lip. Mr. Whiteknoll stood hunched next to her, his hands clasped in front of him, nose nervously twitching. Mae shook Poppy's shoulder.

“I shouldn't have to get out of bed for my breakfast!” the queen snarled.

Mae scrambled to her feet. “I'm sorry, miss. I overslept.”

“Happenies are the laziest bunch of no-good servants one can acquire.”

Poppy rose and dusted off the knees of her britches and the front of her coat.

The queen smirked and traveled in a slow circle around the girls. “So, you are still concerned about your vanity?”

Poppy looked up and her hand dropped slowly. “No, miss.”

“Take off your coat.”

Poppy pulled her arms around herself protectively. “But then I'll be cold.”

“The cold is a good reminder of your new place in the world. Take it off,” Huldfrejya demanded.

Poppy's fingers shook as she worked at the buttons. A tear made a track down her grimy face as she held the colorful coat out to the queen, who tossed it at Mr. Whiteknoll. His eyes brightened as he held the garment. He looked at the girls, a
faint light of recognition shining in his eyes. He nodded, the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly.

“Toss that pile of rags in the dungeon,” the queen commanded.

“No!” Poppy's hand reached out. “No, Mr. Whiteknoll. You made that coat especially for me… Don't—don't you remember?”

Mr. Whiteknoll turned and shuffled out of the room. As the door whooshed open, he winked over his shoulder.

“Now that we've gotten that taken care of,” Huldfrejya said, pointing to Poppy, “you may go to the kitchens.”

“By-by myself?” Poppy stuttered. Her hands were clenched tightly at her sides.

“Of course by yourself! You two aren't attached at the hip, are you?”

“No, miss.” Poppy headed for the door, looking over her shoulder at Mae. Fear was making her face pinch up as though she'd eaten a sour lemon.

“And you, Curly Top,” the queen said. “I think you're ready for some dungeon duty.”

“The dungeon!” Mae shrieked.

The door swung open and Folkvarus stood in the opening. He was holding a steaming bowl of oatmeal topped with apples and spices. Mae's nose twitched as she sniffed the aroma of cinnamon goodness. Folkvarus set the bowl on the table as the queen settled herself in a chair.

“Come with me,” Folkvarus said to Mae. He led her out of the room.

“Be sure to have her back to help me dress for dinner, Folkvarus!” The queen's screeching voice trailed them into the hallway.

“Where are we going?” Mae asked.

“Keep your questions for now,” Folkvarus said.

They walked in silence down the hallway, through the empty Great Room, and to the stairs Mae had seen Geindride climb last night.

“This isn't the way to the dungeon,” Mae said.

Folkvarus gave her a scathing look and Mae clammed up.

The stairway was dark. The walls were covered in climbing ivy and the tower was leaning precariously. The stairs creaked under their feet, and dust escaped from the stones of the tower as they made their way up.

At the top of the stairs, they paused at a small landing. Mae peeked around Folkvarus. The iron keyhole hung haphazardly in the door that led into the tower room. The wooden casing of the door was riddled with rot. Cold air streamed out of the large holes, as if someone had kicked it in some time in the past. Folkvarus pushed the door open and Mae followed him.

All of the windows were broken, and the same ivy that choked the stairwell had invaded the tower room. It wound around the circular space and tangled around the legs of the trestle table Callum had been laid upon. He was so still Mae that thought he was dead. With careful steps, she approached him. She shook as she reached out to caress his bearded cheek. He was cold, but not death-cold, which meant he was still alive.

A furry head poked out from under his arm.

“Trina!” Mae said. “So this is where you've been!”

The little squirrel nodded. Her lip trembled and tears filled her eyes. She ran her furry paw under her nose.

“Why did you bring me here?” Mae asked.

“Because the queen ordered me to,” Folkvarus said.

“But why?”

“I suppose she wanted you to lose hope before I took you into the dungeon, where you would lose even more hope,” Folkvarus said. He sidled up next to her, his hands clasped behind his back. “But I brought you here because it was the one place I was sure we would not be overheard, and I'm ordering you
not
to lose hope.”