Twice Upon a Marigold (6 page)

Mr. Lucasa gathered up as many of the gowns as he could carry and left while Lazy Susan stayed to help Olympia dress. This involved a lot of ordering about, complaining, shouting, one incident of hair-pulling and two slaps, all of the above delivered by Olympia. By the time the queen was finally dressed, coiffed, and perfumed, Lazy Susan was exhausted, sulky, and rebellious, and wondering again what had turned her sweet friend Angie into this selfish, demanding shrew. She had also just done more work in a single day than she had done in any previous year, and she hadn't liked that one bit, either.

"I'm going down to my meetings now," Olympia said grandly. "Be here when I get back to help me undress."

"Fat chance of that," Lazy Susan muttered as Olympia left the room. "Figure out how to get your own self out of that complicated monstrosity of an outfit." The simple life of Granolah, which had seemed so dull and repetitious when compared to Beauty's circumstances, now seemed almost unbearably precious. Oh, to sit on the stone bench by the well again, doing nothing but watching the village go by. To lie in her bed at midday resting from the rigors of eating breakfast
and
lunch. To have time to rehash her old resentments against Beauty. Though, at the moment, seeing what life in a castle could be like, Lazy Susan wasn't sure she was as envious as she used to be, no matter how handsome Beauty's prince was. Being a queen was apparently quite a strenuous job.

She headed for the small attic cubicle that Mrs. Clover had assigned to her, threw herself on the narrow cot, and was instantly asleep.

T
HAT NIGHT
, no one slept soundly except Olympia—and that was only after the episode of bellowing when she discovered Lazy Susan was not waiting to disrobe her. Four other maids and seven footmen were sent to scour the castle, and Lazy Susan was delivered to Olympia just in order to be demoted to scullery maid.

Ed lay awake worrying that Olympia would find a way to dismantle his tooth-covered turret, or bring a halt altogether to Tooth Troll Limited.

Swithbert lay awake in despair at the prospect of life with Olympia again, just when he was finally getting used to the blithe feeling of life without her.

Bub and Cate lay awake, making plans to somehow get that blue squeaky toy all to themselves.

So did Flopsy, Mopsy, and Topsy.

Christian pretended to be asleep so he wouldn't disturb Marigold, but he worried for Marigold's safety. He hadn't forgotten that Olympia had once contemplated arranging a fatal accident to get Marigold out of the line of succession. Theoretically, as Queen of Zandelphia, Marigold was already out of the Beauri-vage line of succession. But if Swithbert's plan for uniting the two kingdoms came to fruition, she would be back in it.

Marigold pretended to be asleep so she wouldn't disturb Chris, but she hadn't forgotten what Olympia had once planned, either.

Lazy Susan, having slept all afternoon, was wide awake, wishing she'd never had a friend named Angie.

And Mr. Lucasa stayed up all night making alterations to Olympia's gowns.

The next morning, Olympia was the only one of them whose eyes weren't bloodshot.

Magnus Tobias Hunter, who had been briefly engaged to Marigold before that crazy day when she ended up marrying King Christian of Zandelphia instead, was having a leisurely luncheon on the terrace of his country manor house. He could hardly believe how happy, and how lucky, he was. He had his own home at last, one that he'd designed himself to be exactly what he wanted. He had a job as royal architect and engineer, which had allowed him to make substantial improvements to the living conditions of Beaurivage's subjects. In just a year, this had made him so popular that, to his amazement, he'd won the annual Kingdom's Favorite Person Award. And that night Lord and Lady Buffleton, along with their daughter Sephronia, were coming to dinner.

Although Magnus had been willing to marry Marigold, he had mostly just wanted something he'd never had before—a place to belong. He liked Marigold well enough even though they had next to nothing in common. With Sephronia it was different. They always had plenty to talk about, and she even shared his interest in architecture and mapmaking. At tonight's dinner he intended to ask Lord Buffleton for permission to court Sephronia.

As he lifted his goblet of pomegranate juice to his lips, Magnus looked up to see something he couldn't believe. Queen Olympia appeared to be steaming across the terrace toward him, but that was impossible. While he'd been shocked at what happened to her on that wedding day a year ago, he couldn't say he was sorry. She had intimidated and manipulated and frightened him into a plot to do away with King Swithbert, and it had been the worst time of his life. She considered herself too refined to do any actual exterminating—that's what she wanted him to do. Magnus really loved Swithbert, who had never been anything but kind and generous to him, but he had been terrified of Olympia. He had been beyond relieved when she'd gone into the river, believing that she'd never bother him again.

Yet here she was, looking fit and extravagantly dressed, complete with ferret, and very much alive. His pomegranate juice went down the wrong way and he coughed so hard he saw stars.

"Just as competent as ever, I see," Olympia said, coming to a halt in front of his table while he kept trying to catch his breath. She yanked out a chair and sat down. "Nice little place you've got here, Magnus. A butler and all the trimmings. I'll bet Swithbert is behind your having it, am I right?" Without waiting for an answer, she said, "You were supposed to end up with nothing if you didn't marry Marigold. Which is exactly what would have happened if I'd still been around. But Swithbert ..." She shook her head in disgust. "I'll bet you'd like to keep living in this nice place, wouldn't you?"

Magnus was too stunned to do more than look at her, his lips trembling.

"Of course you would," Olympia went on, reaching for Magnus's glass of pomegranate juice and drinking it down. "So I know you'll be glad to help me do what I want to do in exchange for your getting to stay here. Correct?"

"What—what—" Magnus licked his lips. "What do you want to do?"

"Ah, that's my boy," Olympia said. "Well, I want to be queen, of course."

"But aren't you queen now?" Magnus asked.

"Well, yes, technically. But the succession is through Swithbert. I was a commoner—though quite an uncommon one, I must say—when he married me. Succession goes to his offspring. Since Tatiana and Marigold are already queens of their own kingdoms, that leaves Calista and Eve, who tried being queens and didn't like it. And Swithbert would never make them do something they didn't want to do. So who better than me to succeed him? Once we get rid of him?"

It was Magnus's worst nightmare—she wanted him in on a plot to kill Swithbert
again.
In spite of his anxiety, a thought came to him. "Where have you been for the last year?"

"I can see I'm going to have to print my story in the
Daily Discourse.
I'm getting tired of explaining it." She sighed and summarized the whole thing for him in a singsongy voice. "Now. That's out of the way. Let's get back to business. Swithbert."

"Uncle Swithbert already has a plan for the succession," Magnus said hesitantly. "He wants to combine
the kingdoms of Zandelphia and Beaurivage. Especially since the new Zandelphia-Beaurivage Bridge makes it so much easier to go back and forth now. And he wants Christian and Marigold to rule both kingdoms when he retires."

"There's a bridge?" Olympia was outraged. "I don't want a bridge! I want Beaurivage to be its own separate kingdom.
My
own separate kingdom. And if Swithbert's retiring,
I
should be first choice as ruler, not Marigold. One kingdom should be enough for her." Olympia stood and began pacing, with Fenleigh clinging to her shoulder. "Is this plan in writing yet? Is it official? Does anybody else know about it?"

"I don't know. I know he's mentioned it to Chris and Marigold, but I don't know if it's anywhere in writing."

"I'll just have to talk to him about that, then." She turned her hard eyes on Magnus. "And if he doesn't cooperate, I'll be back to see you." She turned and swept out, leaving Magnus in such a state of nerves and terror that he put his head down on the luncheon table and wept.

"No, Olympia," Swithbert told her calmly. "Ed is not moving out. And we're not tearing down the bridge. And we will combine the kingdoms, if Chris and Marigold agree. And when I retire, you will not be my successor. But even if you're not queen then, you can still have a very comfortable life here at court." He hated to say this, but he couldn't bring himself to exile her. She was still his wife, after all. And he took any vow very seriously.

"I'm queen now, and I want to stay queen," she told him. "Beaurivage is
my
kingdom."

Why, he wondered, couldn't Olympia just be
satisfied with things as they were? She had so much to be grateful for, so much more than many others would ever have. Yet it was never enough.

"Are you forgetting that Marigold's adopted, and that her husband, in spite of his royal blood, managed to get himself lost in the forest years ago and was raised by that
troll
?"

"Olympia, that's enough," Swithbert said wearily. "I'm not changing my mind. Find a way to be happy now that you're back." He left the room.

"Oh, I'll find a way," Olympia said to the closed door. "But you can be sure it won't be your way."

S
OMEHOW
M
AGNUS
overcame the awful distress caused by Olympia's visit long enough to see to the preparations for his dinner with the Buffletons. Still, he was sweating profusely when they arrived, and so agitated he could hardly speak.

"Magnus," Sephronia whispered as they followed her parents into the reception room, "is something wrong? You don't seem yourself."

"I wish I wasn't myself," he murmured. "I wish I was someone who lived far away."

"Why, Magnus," Sephronia said, drawing back from him. "If you lived far away, you wouldn't be living near me. Is that what you want?"

"No! No, Sephronia! That's not what I mean. I just mean—oh, it's too complicated to explain."

"Don't even bother," she said huffily. "I think I understand. I thought it was me you were interested in, but I see you were just using me to get to my parents. Are you angling to design a villa for them? Well, go ahead. But be careful they don't find out how manipulative you are." She hurried ahead to join her parents, and spent the rest of the evening in a silent funk while Magnus struggled to make conversation with the very puzzled Buffletons, who had been expecting to celebrate their daughter's engagement over dessert.

Sephronia didn't even say good night to him. She simply stalked out to the Buffletons' coach while Lady Buffleton called after her, "Sephronia! Where are your manners?"

Her manners, apparently, also wished to be living far away. At least far away from Magnus.

After they had gone, Magnus sank down on the entry hall bench with his head in his hands and wept for the second time in eight hours.

O
LYMPIA DIDN'T EVEN
wait until lunchtime the next day.

Magnus was gazing without the slightest bit of appetite at the breakfast plate of pigeon eggs and
summer berries that Winterbottom, his butler, had brought him. He heard the front door bang open, and then the door to his dining room also banged open. And there she was—his holy terror, his nemesis, his bête noire: Olympia.

He groaned.

"Does that mean you aren't glad to see me?" she asked gaily, pulling out a dining room chair and seating herself. "Surely not, when I'm the one who's going to make sure that you get to keep this pretty manor house." When he remained silent, she went on, "Don't you want to know more about what you have to do to make that happen?"

Dismally, he shook his head.

"Now, now, Magnus, don't be difficult."

Fenleigh crawled off her shoulder onto the table, where he went to work on Magnus's breakfast plate. He was particularly fond of pigeon eggs.

'All I'm asking," Olympia went on, "is for you to help me make sure neither Swithbert, Marigold, nor Christian gets to be ruler of Beaurivage instead of me. That's all."

He looked at her through bleary eyes. "I don't suppose you mean they'll be going on a nice long vacation."

She smiled. "I guess you could look at it that way. A kind of
permanent
vacation."

He shook his head, even as he knew what it meant for him. But he'd already lost Sephronia because of Olympia. What did the loss of his home mean after that?

"You're saying no to me?" Olympia asked, astonished.

This time he nodded.

"You're sure about that?" she asked, looking at him through narrowed eyes.

He nodded again.

She stood. "Come, Fenleigh." The ferret ran up Olympia's arm and wrapped himself around her neck. "Magnus, you're making things harder for me. You're going to be so sorry you did that."

"I know," he said miserably.

After she'd gone, he looked around his pretty dining room with its elegant proportions, tall sunny windows, and lovely pale green walls. How he would miss it when he went back to living with various relatives, none of whom would be especially thrilled to see him. But he'd been pushed around by Olympia before. He knew what that felt like, and he didn't ever want to feel so guilty and craven again, regardless of the consequences. And he would never forgive himself if any harm came to Swithbert, Marigold, or Christian.

He wished doing the right thing was always easy and painless, but it didn't seem to work out that way.

Chris and Marigold were exceedingly polite with each other, measuring their words carefully, monitoring their behavior so they wouldn't do anything to upset the other person. Neither of them wanted a repeat of the day they'd had their first argument, when they felt farther apart than when they had lived on opposite sides of the river. They were supposed to be each other's best friend—and best friends behaved better than they had that day.