Princess of the Midnight Ball - Jessica Day George [40]
Their friends stood as well. “You will tell us, if you find out anything?” Jutta gave him an anxious look.
Galen nodded as he escorted his cousin out of the shop. Signs of unrest were everywhere. Knots of people stood right in the middle of the street, forcing carriages to go around them as they talked. Passing a small church, Galen saw that it was so crowded, the doors could not be shut. Within, a priest could be heard racing through the words of the mass, trying to perform one final service before the Interdict was enforced.
A city guard was nailing an official proclamation to a signpost a little farther on. People flocked to read it, pushing one another and cursing as feet were stepped on and shawls snagged. Galen’s height gave him an advantage. He and Ulrike stood at the back of the crowd, and he read aloud to her the official news of the Interdiction.
It was as they had thought: no more masses, marriages, or christenings. Any bodies buried would have to be buried in unblessed ground, and the last rites could not be delivered. A trusted member of the archbishop’s staff was stationed at the palace, to counsel with King Gregor and his daughters.
“And all because of some shoes,” Galen murmured as they hurried away.
“What?” Ulrike had to trot to keep up with him.
“This all began because of their shoes being worn out night after night,” he said. He had fallen into an easy quick-march pace. He put an arm around his cousin’s waist to help her along. “If someone could just figure out what they do every night.” He shook his head in frustration. “I’ve tried, but I haven’t seen a thing.”
Ulrike looked at him in shock. “You have? How?”
Galen glanced down at her. “I have permission from the king to roam the gardens at night. I’ve been sneaking around for days now, but as far as I can tell the princesses aren’t leaving the palace.” He cleared his throat, uncomfortable. “I’ve even tried setting traps for them.”
“Traps? What kind of traps?”
“Hanging bells in the ivy on the palace walls in case they’re using it to climb down, sprinkling flour outside the doors and windows, so that they’ll leave tracks. They’d have to fly off the roof like owls to get out of the palace at night without me knowing.”
“But think of how many others have tried to find out their secret,” Ulrike huffed. “Tried and died. You should be more careful.”
“Don’t worry—I have an advantage,” Galen said, as they arrived on the Orm doorstep.
“What?” Ulrike pressed a hand to her side, panting.
Galen smiled at her and laid a finger to his lips. “It’s a secret.”
Suitor
Galen’s relations clearly thought him to be mad, but he would not be deterred. He washed and dressed in his best clothes. They were actually a shirt and suit of his late cousin Heinrich’s that Tante Liesel had altered to fit Galen’s slimmer frame, but it was all fairly new and he thought them quite fine. His short hair wasn’t long enough to comb, but he tried it anyway, and he polished his boots. All the while Tante Liesel and Ulrike stood in the hallway outside his room and begged him to see reason.
Ulrike sobbed. “You’re going to die!”
He opened the door just as Tante Liesel, wringing her hands, was about to say something in the same vein. She stopped when she saw him, however.
“You do look very handsome.” She sniffled and brushed at his lapel. “The color suits you. Heinrich looks—looked—well in dark colors too.”
The suit was a very dark blue, nearly black. Galen gave her a smile and a kiss on the cheek, then kissed Ulrike for good measure. In a leather satchel he had the dull purple cloak the old woman had given him. He hadn’t showed it to anyone, even though he had been tempted to alleviate his aunt’s fears. He knew enough about magic to know that one shouldn’t reveal its secrets to others lightly.
At the bottom of the stairs, Uncle Reiner waited.
“What’s all this, then?” Reiner’s face was haggard and his breath smelled of wine.
“I am going to the palace to speak with King Gregor,”