The Tale of Mally Biddle (30 page)

“Did you know that Princess Avona had a birthmark?” Mally asked quietly.

“No,” replied Susie, confused.

“The doctor who oversaw her birth saw to the injured rebels. A Doctor Keaden. He told me.”

“That’s … interesting.”

It was clear to Mally that her mother found the fact that a do
ctor would say such trivial things while patching up the wounded baffling.

“He told me because he saw mine,” Mally explained, finally unable to restrain herself. “He told me because he recognized it. He told me …” her voice caught in her throat as if someone had gripped their hand around it and squeezed.

Susie sat as rigid as a board, her eyes transfixed on Mally. The paleness of her face was increasing at a frightening rate. Mally wouldn’t have been surprised, even with their close proximity to the fire, to have found her mother’s skin as cold as marble.

Panic flooded Mally with uncontrollable force. Though her mother hadn’t uttered a sound, her countenance answered her more clearly than any words.

“My God, it’s true!” Mally cried. Tray forgotten, she jumped to her feet. She hardly noticed a crash as a buzzing filled her ears.

“Mally! Mally, calm down! It might not be,” said Susie quic
kly, rising to her feet as well. She tried to grab Mally, but Mally viciously jerked away.

“
Might not be?
You’re my mother! How can you not know who I am?” Mally demanded so loudly that her voice cracked and Bonnie huddled under the table.

“Because I adopted you!” Susie yelled back.

Mally stumbled backward as if Susie’s voice had pushed her.

“
You
—”

Susie breathed heavily as she continued.

“I couldn’t have a child. My aunt lived in Bosc and she was getting very old and sick. Jonathan and I went to Bosc to bring her back to Blighten with us, but she was such a stubborn old woman. We stayed in Bosc longer than we had intended, trying to convince her to come with us. Then, one night, a friend of mine who worked in the castle appeared at my aunt’s home. She had a baby in her arms. She told me that the baby had been abandoned in the work shed on the castle grounds. I was horrified. You were so dirty—you were only wrapped in a dishtowel.

“She told me that the baby would be taken to an orphanage in the morning and that if I wanted her, I could have her,” Susie co
ntinued after a pause. Her eyes swam with tears as she looked at Mally. “I so wanted a child.”

Mally sat down heavily. She was an orphan. But if—her heart raced—if she had been abandoned, dirty and uncared for, then she couldn’t be the princess. She couldn’t!

Against her better judgment, Mally asked, “Who was this friend?”

“Cayla Black,” Susie answered.

That name rammed the fact of her heritage right through her soul. It was too many coincidences for Cayla Black—the princess’s nursemaid—to be on the streets giving away a baby just when the
baby princess
disappeared. She must have removed the baby’s clothing and dirtied her face to make her appear discarded.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mally demanded weakly as her v
ision blurred.

“I had no reason not to believe Cayla,” said Susie. “It wasn’t unheard of—to have babies left on the doorstep of the castle. I h
aven’t once considered it until now.”

“You believe the doctor? That was seventeen years ago!”

Susie blinked her eyes sadly.

“You know what I know, Mally. Now you must decide what to believe.”

“And what do you think?” Mally asked. She searched her mother’s face, willing her to scoff at the doctor’s ravings. To convince her that it was absurd.

Susie paused and placed a hand on Mally’s knee. She raised her pale eyes so that they met Mally’s.

“I think it’s possible,” she said very quietly. “Possible.”

31
Bones Manor

The rest of the day seemed to go by in a drunken haze. Mally wasn’t ever fully aware of where she was or what she was doing. More than anything she was highly attuned to the overwhelming sense of panic that constantly swirled beneath her chest. In towe
ring waves it would engulf her, causing her body to tense into knots, her breathing to hitch, and her vision to spin. She was the princess. Her biological mother and father were the late king and queen of Lenzar. She had studied their portraits in King Salir’s chamber … her mother and father. She must have been happy with them. She frowned. She had been taken away before she was a year old—but she must have been happy. Why was it that she wanted so desperately to know if she had been happy?

Mally shook her head and felt the waves gathering speed once more. She already had a mother and father. Susie and Jonathan Biddle had played those roles; she didn’t
want
more. And in all honesty, there was still a chance that Cayla’s story had been true. Mally could have been abandoned by her uncaring birthmother in the storage shed beside Jack’s shovels and pails. Cayla could have found her there and tried to find her a decent home. That could have happened …

Mally grimaced and squeezed her eyes shut. Her fingers gripped her head and pulled at her hair. Guilt. All this panic … the fuel for it was guilt. If she was the princess, she could fix Lenzar. It was her duty … her job to return to the throne and fix everything … or, at least, it was what Dr. Keaden, Ivan, and everyone else would think she should do. But what about
her
? Mally nearly screamed the question aloud.
What about her?
Didn’t
her
happiness count for anything? Didn’t
her
opinion matter?
No,
Ivan’s voice sounded in her head, his firm eyes glaring at her.

“No,” Mally whispered to the empty room, for she finally rea
lized she was in her bedroom. “No,” she repeated more forcefully, angry tears stinging her eyes.

If Ivan wanted to save Lenzar so badly then
he
could take the throne. Mally would gladly pass it to him.

There was a sudden commotion downstairs. Bonnie was bar
king and Susie yelled at her. Mally stood and inched toward the window, pulling the thin drapes aside. A young man on horseback had appeared in their yard. From his clothing, Mally knew he was a letter-carrier. She watched from the safety of her window as the man handed Susie something small and rode away. Mally turned to face her bedroom door, listening to her mother’s footsteps traveling up the stairs and padding their way to her door.

“Mally?” Susie’s voice sounded soft and gentle. “You have a letter.”

A thin envelope was slipped under her door and the retreating sounds of Susie’s footsteps returned to the stairs. Mally picked up the letter. With trepidation she slipped the envelope open and pulled out the folded paper within.

Mally,

Dr. Keaden told me who you are, or who he thinks you are. And I understand why you ran, but I do wish you had left us some kind of message. Lita’s in a mess. I have no idea whether or not you are safely with your mother, but I hope this letter will find you.

I really don’t know what I want to say … come back? Stay hidden? I realize that we’ll probably never see each other again—but I can always hope. Please allow me that hope.

Lita and I will keep your secret.

Please, stay safe.

Galen

Mally stared at the letter. For nearly five minutes she just stared at his signature. Then she became aware that teardrops falling from her cheeks were spattering the ink. She roughly wiped her face, more moved than she could explain that he’d called her Mally and not Princess Avona.

***

Susie was now very worried. She understood that Mally needed to be alone to sort this out … it wasn’t everyday that you found out you were adopted and the lost princess to boot. Susie just wished that there was something she could do … something she could say.

After she’d slipped the letter under Mally’s door, she had r
eturned to the kitchen to continue with dinner. One thing was for sure, Mally had to eat. Such stress could easily make her ill—she needed all the strength she could get.

When the roast was on the table Susie decided it was time. Slowly, but purposefully, she climbed the stairs to Mally’s be
droom. She knocked but only silence greeted her. No … Susie frowned and leaned closer to the door. Sobbing. Mally was crying. Without hesitation, Susie opened the door.

Mally sat hunched over on her bed, a letter clutched in her hands.

“Mally.”

Susie rushed to her and sat beside her. Mally looked up, her red eyes locked on Susie’s.

“You will always be my mother,” she choked.

“Oh, Mally.”

With a great sob, Mally threw herself into Susie’s arms, clinging to her shirt like a child.

***

Mally ate her dinner quietly. Susie kept trying to make small talk, but Mally wasn’t in the mood for conversation. Her mind was busy with what she was going to do once her mother fell asleep. She had made her decision.

She couldn’t live with this guilt. She couldn’t move on, kno
wing that she might have been able to save the kingdom. She had to know for a fact if she was the princess and there was only one person who could give her that information—Cayla Black. But Cayla lived in Leaveston, a day’s journey from Blighten. From there, depending on the information Cayla gave her, she would return to Bosc.

Her mother would refuse to let her leave alone. But Mally was not about to risk her mother’s life, too. So with a warm smile, she said goodnight to her mother and waited in her bedroom until she was sure she was asleep. She inched down the stairs and left a note on the kitchen table.

Dawn rose in an array of pale peaches and apricots. It was still terribly cold, but the wind had mercifully stopped. This time, Ma
lly had been sure to wear a cloak. The rain had turned to snow in the night and the roads glistened and sparkled in the early morning sun. The farmhouses she passed looked like they were made of gingerbread.

Mally tried not to think about how her mother was reacting to her empty bed or her note. She was much too far from Blighten now to turn back, or for her mother to catch up with her.

Thrilled to be on the road again, Sam trotted along happily, twitching his ears in merriment and causing a good number of passerbies to turn and stare. Mally couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips.

Mally suddenly realized that Sam would be even more stunning with a gleaming royal saddle instead of the plain and battered one now on his back. His arched neck, high gait, forward ears, flicking tale—his very blood proclaimed his right to be front and center. Mally shook her head, marveling at how fate itself seemed to be trying to make her accept the truth. What if she’d had a horse wo
rthy of her rank all along?

Mally shook herself, still keeping the tiny ounce of denial left firmly in place. She wouldn’t
accept it yet—not fully. Not until she’d spoken to
her.

Mally only knew that Hebitha Bones lived in Leaveston. As to the exact location of her abode, she had no idea. But upon entering the large city, she received directions from the toothy proprietor of a vacant bar and twenty minutes later stood stunned before Bones Manor.

Madame Bones had seemed frivolous and eccentric, so Mally shouldn’t have been surprised that her home was just as over-the-top. The house was large and squat with multiple towers shooting off like sprouts from a chopped trunk. Someone had painted the wood and plaster a horrifying baby pink. With its white decorative edges around the windows and doors, it resembled a frosted cake.

Mally bit her lip. Sam snorted beside her.

After tying Sam to a waiting post beside a large and sweeping front stairway, Mally made her way to the front door. Hebitha had decorated many of the statues littering the entrance with wreaths round their stone necks. After tangling herself in a giant, ornamental fan with strings of beads and dried vines, Mally finally managed to pull the bell on the front door.

The door opened and Mally quickly straightened. A stuffy, pinched-looking servant stood in the doorway, eyeing her susp
iciously.

“Who is calling?” he asked. Even his voice sounded constric
ted. Mally wondered if he had a bad cold.

“Mally Biddle. If I may have a word with Madame Bones, please.”

“Humph,” the servant snorted, his watery eyes narrowing in disdain. “You may wait in the welcoming chamber.”

He stepped back to allow her entrance. Nodding politely, Mally walked past him only to stop in her tracks. There was hardly any walking space in the chamber. The walls, what little you could see of them, were a frightening cheddar yellow. Bookcases, spindly chairs with piles of trinkets, vases, paintings …

“Something wrong?” the man simpered, glaring at Mally as if daring her to say anything about his mistress.

“No, nothing,” Mally replied politely.

He nodded stiffly.

“I will inform Madame you are here.”

With amusement Mally watched him cross the room with what she could only describe as artistry, ducking and weaving through the mess before disappearing through a door she had not spotted in all the clutter. She wasn’t left alone for very long. The servant soon returned and asked her to follow him. They walked past several other rooms that were just as cluttered
as the welcoming chamber. Then they entered a room that reminded Mally of a crowded tea shop. The air was horribly stuffy thanks to a very large, burning fire. Mally immediately removed her cloak. Along the walls, Hebitha Bones had hung numerous portraits of Marlo, her yellow cat. His fur clashed horribly with the red walls. With a bit of difficulty, Mally managed to squeeze past tables and squishy chairs to reach Hebitha Bones.

“My dear!” Madame Bones exclaimed loudly. She extended her short arms to Mally in warm welcome “Sit! Sit! I do love vis
itors! Cream or sugar?”

“Cream, thank you.”

Mally sat in a very fluffy, pink chair and sunk a few inches. She took a cup of tea from Madame Bones and sipped it. A sickly sweet smell hung heavily in the room. Mally wondered if Hebitha ordered the servants to spray the room daily with perfume.

“I don’t mean to be rude, my dear, but I don’t know who you are,” Madam Bones said pleasantly, peering at Mally through her gloopy eyelashes.

“I was a servant at Bosc Castle during the Winter Ball.”

Madam Bones fluttered her droopy lashes for a moment before her eyes widened in recognition. “Ah yes! Yes, I remember you! What is it I can do for you, dear?” Madam Bones asked as she picked up a cake from a blindingly shiny platter. She kept her other hand firmly placed on Marlo, who sat in her lap. His yellow eyes glared at Mally.

“I was hoping you would allow me to speak to one of your servants,” Mally said calmly, though her heart rate was picking up speed.

“One of my servants?” Hebitha stared at Mally, her hand halted in its search for another cake.

“Yes, I believe her name is Cayla Black?”

“Cayla?” Madam Bones blinked rapidly, making her eyelashes flap like batwings. “Oh, yes! She is charming!” Madam Bones exclaimed. “Don’t know what I’d—oh,
Marlo!
” Marlo had sensed that his distracted mistress had slackened her hold and he dove out of her lap, yellow tail high in the air as he streaked between tables and chairs. “Robert! ROBERT!” Madam Bones cried frantically.

The stuffy servant who had welcomed Mally appeared in the doorway just as Marlo dashed between his legs.

“I’ll get him, Madam!” Robert proclaimed, spinning on the spot.

“And Miss Black!” Mally added.

“Yes! Yes—Cayla!” Madam Bones echoed. “Bring Cayla, Robert!”

A crash answered them. Madam Bones flopped back in her chair, looking like a winded chicken. Mally quickly refilled her teacup.

“Oh. Oh, thank you dear,” Madam Bones thanked her weakly, taking the cup. She sipped it, grimaced and added more sugar. Another crash sounded along with a muffled
oof
! Mally flinched at the smashing sounds. Madam Bones however, didn’t seem to notice the destruction of her possessions that accompanied the search for Marlo.

“Have you had a cake?” Madam Bones asked sweetly, now looking much less flustered.

Mally shook her head and Madam Bones placed a cake dripping in thick icing on a plate. Mally took a bite, nearly choked, and politely put it back down.

“You, um, have a lovely home,” said Mally, making a stab at conversation just as another loud shattering reached their ears.

Madam Bones smiled girlishly.

“It’s home,” she said happily.

“Madam.” Robert had returned. Three long scratches ran down his hand, and a lump was turning red on his temple. Clamped in his arms was an extremely sour Marlo.

Madam Bones leapt to her feet.