Princess of the Midnight Ball (25 page)

Squirming until he was at least more comfortable, he knocked his head against a wall, and then his feet, which was when he realized that he was in a wardrobe or some other small space. Now that he had changed position, he could see a faint line of light beneath the door. He pushed against it, but it didn’t budge.

His hands were bound in front, which made it quite easy to reach into his right boot and pull out the little knife sheathed there. All his other weapons had been removed, but
they apparently hadn’t checked his boots. As he reversed the blade and carefully sawed at the rope around his wrists, he shook his head over the laxness.

His bonds parted and he moved to the rope around his ankles, holding the knife awkwardly in his stiff fingers. He’d nicked himself cutting the wrist ropes, and he dropped the knife and had to fumble in the dark for it to get his ankles free, but he eventually succeeded.

Carefully sheathing the knife, Galen staggered to his feet and felt around his prison. It was definitely a wardrobe, locked on the outside. He shouted and kicked at the door and then listened carefully. There was no reply from the room beyond, or even a stirring that he could hear, so it seemed that he was alone.

“Good,” he grunted.

Slumping to the floor, he sat against the back of the wardrobe and braced his feet on the door. Drawing his knees in, he kicked out hard and felt it give a little, with a satisfying sound. He kicked again, and a third time, before the door splintered and burst outward, hanging crazily by one hinge. Galen clambered to his feet and stepped out.

He was in Angier’s bedchamber, which he’d previously glimpsed through the sitting room door. A chime drew Galen’s attention to an ornate wooden clock on the wall. It was just striking half-past midnight. Galen realized that it was the chime that had awakened him, and cursed. Half-past midnight! Rose and her sisters had been trapped below for a full day now.
And Angier was not in bed, sleeping the sleep of the just and holy. Where had he gone?

Galen ran out of the bedroom and into the sitting room beyond. On the table with the books and diary were his weapons and the contents of his satchel.

Galen hastily put the goblet, twigs, handkerchief of sand, and the woolen chain in the satchel, then his powder and shot. He sheathed his knives, checked and holstered his pistols, and fixed his bayonet to his rifle. Then he took up the satchel and the long knife, hung the cape over one shoulder, and headed for the door.

Angier’s sitting room had been locked from the outside, but that didn’t stop Galen for long. His head still ached, but his thoughts were clear. If he didn’t solve this tonight, Rose would die. He broke the lock on the door with one kick and stepped into the hallway.

In the princesses’ sitting room, the rug was in place and the maids snored in their chairs. Galen knelt beside the golden maze pattern and put his hand on it. He traced the pattern with a fingertip as he had seen Lily do and said a prayer.

Nothing.

Was he too late, or would it simply not work for him?

He reached into his satchel to take out one of the silver twigs, thinking that the blessed silver might help. As he did so, the handkerchief tumbled out and grains of glittering black sand scattered across the rug. They sparkled in the light from the candles. The golden maze pattern glowed and the fibers
fused together into gold bars, but they did not sink into the floor. Galen sprinkled on a little more sand, but it had no effect. He put the handkerchief away and gripped a silver twig in his right hand. Uttering another prayer, he traced the pattern with the gleaming twig.

The sand sparkled even brighter, and the golden lines widened and sank into the floor. The twig itself dissolved, and Galen drew back just in time to avoid falling headfirst down the spiral staircase. He got to his feet and ran down the stairs, reaching the bottom only seconds after the last rung settled into place.

The pearl and silver gate swung open at his touch and he passed into the forest, pausing only to fasten his purple cape. Running down the path, he felt his blood drumming in his ears.
Rose, Rose, Rose
, his pulse seemed to say.
Save her, save her, save her
.

But the lake posed another problem. There was no golden boat in which to ride, no tall prince to row him across. Galen could swim, but it would ruin his rifle and pistols, and he wasn’t sure that the black liquid filling the lake was even water. He crouched down and touched a careful finger to it, and his skin began to burn. Galen had to spit on his finger to stop the burning.

“No swimming, then,” Galen said aloud.

He pulled out another of the silver twigs, and cast it on the water, praying for a bridge of some sort.

No bridge formed. The twig sank into the black waves and Galen kicked the sand in rage. He started to walk along the
edge of the shore, the black castle always looming in the corner of his eye. To the right, a few of the silver trees had sprung up right at the water’s edge. He shoved at one of them, trying to see how securely rooted in the loose sand it was. There was no time to make a raft, though, and the tree didn’t budge.

But then he saw what was beyond the tree.

A boat, made of lacy silver filigree, had been pulled up among the trees and beached there. It looked as if it would sink in an instant, but hope fluttered in Galen’s breast. He bent and inspected it. It looked like a piece of silver lace, hardened and curved, and there was a scrap of blue satin snagged on one of the oarlocks.

It was well known that blue had been Queen Maude’s favorite color; she had worn it in every portrait that Galen had seen.

“So that is how she got across,” Galen said under his breath.

Then he grabbed the edge of the boat and hauled it down to the water. He said a silent prayer as it slid onto the black waves, and watched without breathing as it bobbed there. No water seeped in; it floated as lightly as a dry leaf. Not wanting to waste any more time, Galen leaped aboard and grabbed the silver oars. With every stroke his urgency intensified again, and the slap of the water against the lacy hull whispered for him to hurry.

It was even more disconcerting to see the princesses tonight than it had been the three previous nights. They were dressed
in the cobweb-fine silks of the kingdom Under Stone, clinging gowns of purple, ebony, and indigo that looked like bruises to Galen’s eyes. Their faces, normally pale and resigned in this place, were filled with despair now, and several of them sobbed openly.

He searched for Rose and found her on the far side of the ballroom, deep in conversation with Illiken as they danced. Eyes narrowed, worried about what she was up to, Galen wound between the figures of the dance until he was near enough to hear her.

“If I made a contract with your father, to allow you to come above for one night, would you promise not to harm any member of my household?”

Galen’s breath exploded out in a “No!”

Rose and her suitor both froze. The couples around them for several paces froze as well, and all turned to see who had shouted.

Color bloomed in Rose’s cheeks. “What was that sound?” She looked around with an air of obviously feigned innocence. “Did you hear that, Illiken?”

“Of course I heard it,” he said stiffly. “Something is amiss here.” He glared around, his gaze passing over Galen several times, but Illiken’s power was not great enough to allow him to see through the cape’s influence. He turned to a servant. “Beg my lord father’s presence,” he commanded.

“Your lord father is already here,” said a wintry voice.

The doors at the end of the ballroom had opened soundlessly while the courtiers’ attention had been on Rose.

“What has happened?” The king sat on his throne as if he couldn’t care less, but his eyes were fixed on Rose the entire time.

“Forgive me, lord,” Jonquil said, curtsying. Of the princesses, she had been the nearest to Rose. “I coughed suddenly, and it disrupted the dance.”

“You … coughed?” The king raised his eyebrows, clearly not believing a word of Jonquil’s excuse. “I see.” The pale king’s skepticism was palpable. “Rionin?”

Jonquil’s suitor snapped to attention. “My lord father?”

“Did she, in fact, cough?”

Confusion clouded the prince’s handsome face. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

The king’s gaze wandered over the assembly, and once again his eyes lingered on the spot where Galen stood.

Illiken, of all people, came to the rescue.

“My lord father, may I speak with you?”

The king nodded, then waved to the musicians’ gallery for them to continue. The dancing started up again, with the exception of Rose, who went to the chairs along the wall to sit down, and Illiken, who bent one knee to speak low words to his father.

“What are you plotting?” Galen hissed to Rose.

She didn’t even jump at the sound of his disembodied voice. “I had to try
something
.”

“Inviting Under Stone’s son aboveground? What earthly good could that do?”

“I wanted a chance to go home again,” she hissed. “I thought we could elude them, once we were there.”

“Just like your mother wanted children, and an end to the
war?” The words were harsh, but Galen didn’t regret them. It was madness to even think about striking another bargain with the King Under Stone.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” Rose said, her voice sounding choked.

“I do.” Galen squeezed her elbow. “Slip along the wall here, and leave. There’s a silver boat between the island and the shore. Get out of here.”

“A boat? What boat? And what about my sisters?”

“We’ll get them. They won’t all fit. I’ll have to make two trips, so hurry.”

Lily interrupted him. “Rose! What have you done?” She pointed to the dais, where her suitor and Jonquil’s had joined Illiken and their father in an intense conversation. The king was watching them, however, his eyes on Rose.

“I asked Illiken some questions,” Rose said. “But I am not going to invite them above after all.”

“Nice that you’ve come to your senses,” the normally sweet-natured Lily snapped.

“Lily,” Rose said gently. “Slip out of the room, go to the lake, and wait by the silver boat there.”

“What?” Lily stared at her sister.

“Take Petunia and Pansy with you,” Rose went on. “Say you’re taking them to freshen up.” Her eyes flickered, unseeing, in Galen’s direction. “I need to stay and help the others,” she said.

“I’ll do that,” he insisted.

Lily started at the sound of his voice. “What was that? Galen?” She had the sense to whisper.

He put a hand on her wrist, just lightly, and she shivered. “I’m right here, Your Highness. I’ve found a boat—I think it was your mother’s. It won’t hold you all at once, so we must hurry.”

“But we’ll anger the king—”

“You’ll be out of his reach, forever,” Galen assured her with confidence he did not entirely feel. He glanced up at the dais, and saw the princes looking their way, along with their father. “Go, now! Hurry!”

Lily straightened her shoulders and tossed her head. “Well, Rose,” she said in a carrying voice. “I’ll do it myself, then.”

She marched onto the dance floor and tapped Pansy’s prince on the shoulder. “Excuse me.” Lily was speaking in a normal tone now and Galen could just barely make out the words. “I think that the younger set had better visit the retiring room. They’ve had quite a lot of excitement tonight.” She took Pansy’s hand and led her from her bemused partner.

Petunia’s prince had apparently heard the exchange, because he stepped away with a small bow as Lily sailed over to him. She had to interrupt Orchid and her partner, though. Orchid’s prince was busy watching the dais, and as soon as he distractedly handed Orchid to Lily, he went over and bowed to his father, a question on his lips.

“Hurry, hurry,” Galen muttered in a low voice. He saw Iris ask Lily something when they passed her, and join the string
of princesses with an expression of relief on her face. “They’re drawing too much attention now,” he muttered, seeing the pale king shift his attention from Rose to Lily and the four younger girls. “Too many at once.”

“They’ll be fine,” Rose said out of the corner of her mouth. “Just don’t panic.”

“Rose!” The King Under Stone’s voice cut through the music. “Join us, won’t you?”