Once Upon a Marigold (12 page)

Relief filled him. She knew him! He could be her best friend again with no more pretending. "First, I want you to know how awful I've felt about having had to deceive you," he told her. "We promised never to lie or deceive, but I just couldn't, as a commoner,
insist that a princess honor a best-friend promise, especially to a servant."

"Oh, don't you know friendship pays no attention to things like that? The heart doesn't care about anything except loyalty and comfort and companionship—which you've always given me and are still giving me. Now, please—it's unfair that you know my name and I don't know yours."

"It's Christian. You had it right one time out of six—and those were my favorite p-mails."

"I'm so glad it isn't Chauncey! You just never seemed like a Chauncey."

"How did you know it's me?"

"Because you're being my bulwark. The way my best friend promised to be."

"So you figured it out for yourself? You didn't read my mind?"

"I can only get thoughts and feelings, not names and addresses."

"I can't imagine thinking something I wouldn't want you to know anyway."

She lowered her eyes. "To tell the truth, I can't always do it. It only works when I'm unhappy. That's the part of the curse nobody knows about. And, of course, I've been sufficiently unhappy growing up here that I could do it often enough to scare people
pretty badly. The first time it happened, I was only about four and my mother was dragging me back to the nursery because I'd interrupted her while she was playing whist with some of her ladies-in-waiting. I said to her, 'Do you
really
wish I'd never been born?' and she dropped my hand as if it were on fire and said, 'How did you do that?' So I knew, somehow, that I'd read her private thoughts. It happened a couple more times before she figured out it only happened when she was touching me. So she stopped. And pretty soon, everybody else did, too. Even my governess. Everybody except Papa. He was never afraid of me. But, then, he never had any thoughts that would bother me. And usually, I was happy around him, so I couldn't read him anyhow."

"I think you should grab hold of your mother and make sure what I'm afraid she's up to is really true. And if it is, you have to get out of here. You can stay with me and Ed if you want. Or go to one of your sisters. Then we can keep p-mailing the way you want. But I have to know you're safe."

"Is that really so important to you?"

The way she was looking at him made him feel quite jingle-brained—she would have fun reading
those
thoughts. "Yes," he said after shaking his head to
clear his mind. "I can hardly think of anything that matters more."

"I believe you," she said. "And now I'm losing your thoughts."

"Why? Because ... because ... you're happy?" He hardly dared hope that his concern for her would make her too happy to read his thoughts.

"I know it seems crazy to be happy to find out that my own mother wants me out of her way permanently. But by finding that out, I've also found out that my best friend is here and that he—" She blushed prettily and lowered her lashes. "I was so glad when you started writing to me," she whispered. "It was exactly what I needed then."

"I knew I was being very forward that day, but somehow I couldn't help myself. I was just so curious about what you were reading. I admit I was surprised when you answered me."

"So was I. But you couldn't know how lonely I was when you sent me that first message, how much I wanted a friend."

"Well, now you have one," he said, and hugged her again, wishing that right now she
could
read his thoughts and know that he wanted to be much more than just a friend to her.

At that moment, a platoon of castle soldiers, led by Rollo, burst up the stairs and out onto the terrace.

"Halt!" Rollo cried.

Christian and Marigold sprang apart. Was Rollo talking to them or to his soldiers?

"Take him!" Rollo said, and Christian found himself pinioned by more soldiers than he could count, all of them bristling with weapons.

"Stop it!" Marigold demanded. "I'm the princess here, and I command you to stop!"

"Sorry, princess," Rollo said. "You're outranked by the queen, whose orders I'm carrying out."

"But what have I done?" Christian asked.

"Aside from mauling a royal personage, you mean?" Rollo asked, and Christian could see in his eyes that it didn't really matter what he'd done, or how many excuses he had, or how many witnesses there might be to his good character. Rollo was going to get even for the incident with Meg in the kitchen.

"He wasn't mauling me!" Marigold exclaimed, stamping her foot.

"That's what it looked like to me!" Rollo said. "But that's not the real problem here."

"Well, what is?" she asked.

"This man is a traitor, plotting the invasion of the castle."

"What?" Marigold and Christian said in unison.

"He's been seen sending many messages to a confederate across the river. His only purpose in coming to work here has been to report back to his forces how they could breach the walls and capture the kingdom."

"Why, that's total nonsense!" Christian cried. "I don't have any forces."

"Total nonsense," Marigold repeated. "You saw me touching him. You know I can tell what he's thinking, and nothing like that was in his mind."

"I'm just following my orders, Your Highness," Rollo said. "I'm sure you'll get a chance to have your say at his trial. You, too," he threw in Christian's direction. "Before they hang you," he muttered. Then, louder, to his soldiers, "Take him away. To the lowest dungeon. And bring me the key."

Christian was dragged away backward, his heels scraping along the flagstones.

Marigold ran after him. "Don't despair," she cried. "He can't do this. I'll get you out in no time."

"No time" apparently meant never, Christian thought, languishing in his dank, cluttered dungeon. He didn't know how long he'd been there, for it was hard to judge the passage of time without a window to the outside. The sputtering torch in the wall bracket across from his cell burned all the time.

The cell was spacious, with room for perhaps thirty prisoners. At the moment, it was more than half filled with junk, presumably from the blacksmith's unsuccessful inventions. Christian could see chains and manacles screwed into the walls where unfortunate former inmates had been bound, and was
grateful he at least had the freedom to wander around in his dark confinement.

He soon discovered that in even a spacious dungeon there wasn't much wandering to be done. His back against the wall, he slid into a sitting position on the damp floor, and before he knew it, his sleepless night caught up with him and he was out like a log.

He woke to the sound of someone whispering his name.

"Christian!" the voice hissed. "Wake
up!
"

He jumped to his feet and went to the small barred window in the thick wooden door of the cell. In the dimly lit square was Marigold's face. Christian had never seen a more beautiful sight.

"Hi," he said, ecstatic simply to lay eyes on her.

"Oh, Christian," she wailed. "I've tried to talk to Papa, but he's so fuddled I can only assume that my mother has drugged him to keep him from making any trouble until after this awful wedding's over. Maybe she's been drugging him for a long time, which is why he's seemed so ill and old."

"Then save yourself," Christian said decisively. "Forget about me. I'll think of something. But you've got to get out of here. You can't marry Magnus. You can't."

"I'm being watched all the time now," Marigold said. "There are two guards at either end of the corridor right now, and they'll escort me back to my rooms. Then my maids will watch me, with guards at the doors and windows. The only way I could get out of here would be if I had wings."

"But they're letting you come see me," he said. "Why?"

"I suppose they're hoping you'll tell me about your plot to overthrow the king, or whatever crazy charges they've trumped up against you. If they can get you to confess, they won't even have to bother with a trial."

"There
is
no plot, you know that. I was just sending p-mail to Ed across the river."

"I do know that. I haven't doubted you for a minute."

"We have two more days before the wedding. Maybe I can think of something. And even if I can't, as long as you can come to see me here, I'll die happy."

"Oh, don't talk like that." Marigold's eyes swam with tears.

He put his hands over hers where they gripped the bars, and squeezed. "We have to be realistic. But let's not cry yet."

"Princess!" one of the guards called. "Your time's up. You have to go now."

He squeezed her hands again. "Come back," he whispered.

"I will." Then she was gone.

Christian slumped to the floor, completely out of ideas just when he was most desperate for a good one.

He realized that he'd dozed again when he was awakened by a terrible racket coming down the corridor. Christian couldn't distinguish a single word of the shouts and the clamor of many voices that rang off the stone walls. And he thought he heard dogs barking.

There was a rattle of keys. The cell door was flung open and a tumble of flailing bodies was hurled inside. Christian pressed himself against the wall to avoid being struck by flying humanity while noting that apparently Rollo didn't have the only key. The whizzing bodies hit the ground with a crash followed by grunts and yips and groans. What in the world kind of creatures were in here now? Christian wondered with trepidation.

The heap on the floor sorted itself out into three distinct shapes, two of which launched themselves directly at him. At the moment of impact, Christian discerned that they were—Bub! And Cate! And behind them, brushing himself off, was Ed!

"Ed!" Chris cried. Even encumbered as he was by the dogs, he threw himself on Ed, trying to hug all three of them at the same time.

"Help!" Ed cried. "Get off me!"

Bub barked his brains out directly into Chris's ear, and Cate howled and yowled and flung herself about.

"It's me—Christian!" Chris yelled over the tumult.

Ed pulled himself back out of the melee. "Christian?" he sputtered. When he'd assured himself that it was indeed Christian, he threw his arms around him. "Thank goodness you're still alive! Are you in here because you hugged the princess?"

"Did you get all my p-mail?" Christian asked.

"I think so. Lots and lots of little pieces of paper. I was hopping up and down waiting for the next twelve lines."

"Then you know what's going on here. And now they think all those messages we were sending were something about planning an attack on the castle."

"You're joking," Ed said, ready to laugh. "Two guys and two dogs were going to attack the castle?"

"I'm not joking. That's why we're all in here. But it also prevents us from interfering with Princess Marigold's wedding to that oaf, that brainless boob, Magnus."

"You don't like Magnus, huh?" Ed asked.

"Well, I told you all that in the messages. And every time I think of him with Marigold, I—well, I feel a way I've never felt before. A way so strong it hurts, right in the corner of my heart."

Uh-oh, thought Ed. He'd felt that way himself, and he knew what it meant. He felt that way every year at the LEFT Conference when he saw the red-haired troll maiden. From time to time she smiled at him, but whenever she did, she was dragged off by her father, who wanted better for her than a common forest troll who lived off other people's castoffs and didn't have an ODD Medal. And every year at the conference, he had to brace himself before he found out whether she'd gotten married since he last saw her. So far she hadn't, but the conference was coming up again in a week. So he knew what a breaking heart felt like.

"We have to stop that wedding," Christian said. "We have to."

"Any suggestions?" Ed inquired. "We're not exactly in a good position to do that."

"I know it looks bad right now—"

"
Bad ?
" Ed said. "You know that saying about how it's always darkest just after the lights go out? That's what it looks like to me."

"No, I don't know that saying," Christian said.
"But I'm not giving up as long as I have a breath in my body." He gestured to the scrap heap. "Look at all that junk. Maybe there's something in there we can use."

"Use for what?" Ed asked. "I hate to be a wet blanket in the mud, but haven't you noticed? We're locked in."

"Don't be so negative. Help me look." Christian began digging into the pile, running to the little window in the door for enough light to see everything he dug up.

In Marigold's chamber were two dressmakers, four maids, one page boy, three dogs, one ferret, and her mother. While Marigold was the focus of all their attentions, it was the
princess,
not the
person
preoccupying everyone.

"No!" Olympia cried, pacing around her daughter, with Fenleigh, growling softly, clutched under her arm. Flopsy, Mopsy, and Topsy growled back, wishing they could get that creature away from Olympia for just a few minutes. "No bows on the front! I want them all on the back! Pearls and brilliants and lace and embroidery on the front. Bows on the back. Can't you get that straight?" She snatched a bow pinned to the
bodice of the wedding gown and threw it onto the floor.

One of the dressmakers, her lips compressed as if she were struggling not to bite Olympia, picked up the bow and fastened it at the back of Marigold's waist.

"
Much
better," purred Olympia. Fenleigh purred, too. "Now the veil—"

And so it went, all afternoon, with Marigold nothing more than a breathing mannequin for everybody in the room. But she was doing more than breathing. She was
thinking.

How to stop this wedding? How to free Christian? How to find a way to go see Christian again in the dungeon? Was it really drugs—or worse:
poison
—that were making Papa so befuddled and vague?

Lots of questions. No answers. Except how she would see Christian again. She just
would
, that's all. She was a princess, wasn't she? And a future queen. And she knew how to act like one.