Princess of the Midnight Ball - Jessica Day George [48]
“He’s asleep,” Poppy reported. “His head kept bobbing up and down for a while, but now he’s out cold and snoring.”
“Good, let’s get ready,” Jonquil said, and she flounced over to her dressing table to arrange her hair.
An hour later, when the sisters had all tied on their dancing shoes and arrayed themselves in their usual finery, Galen was sound asleep. Rose went over to him and tapped his shoulder, but he just snored on and she turned away.
Galen’s wing chair was turned toward the fire, so that the rug in the center of the room was mostly behind him. Still, Rose watched him nervously as Lily opened the secret entrance. His head had lolled against one of the wings in such a way that if he were to suddenly wake, he would be able to see them out of the corner of his eye. Lily went down the spiraling staircase first, and the rest of the sisters followed after. Still tense, Rose brought up the rear as they filed down into the darkness for the Midnight Ball.
Twigs
As soon as Rose’s head passed down into the floor and out of sight, Galen leaped to his feet, yanked the purple cape out of his satchel, and threw it around his shoulders. Hugging the satchel close to his chest, he hurried after her. The portal in the floor brushed his close-cropped hair as it closed, and he bit back a curse.
He had feigned sleep, even though he was so keyed up that he couldn’t imagine closing his eyes. He’d worried that the snoring was a bit much but knew that he couldn’t stop once he’d started, and it seemed to convince the princesses.
Except for Rose. Rose was far too clever.
When she came up to touch his shoulder, he was terrified that she would see him peeking at them from under his lashes. In his relief when she turned away, he had almost forgotten to continue snoring. And then, incredibly, the rug had turned into a staircase leading down into the floor.
Rose stopped suddenly, and Galen nearly ran into her.
“What was that?” Her voice was breathless with fright. She spun around and Galen tensed, but she peered right through him.
“What’s the matter?” Lily called from the front of the line.
“I thought I heard footsteps. Heavy footsteps,” Rose said. “I feel like someone is following me.”
Lily held her lamp higher. “There’s no one there, Rose. How could there be?” She continued on down the steps, and the other princesses followed her.
“Just a draft, I suppose.” Rose sighed.
Galen did his best to creep silently down the stairs after that, breathing into the collar of his cape so that he wouldn’t blow on Rose’s neck. At last they came to the foot of the golden staircase, and Galen gaped at what lay before them.
All around was darkness, darkness that their lamp only dimly illuminated. But directly in front of them was a tall gate made of silver and set with pearls the size of pigeon’s eggs. There was no fence, only a gate, and beyond it a forest of strange pale trees.
Lily swung open the gate and the princesses passed through, with Galen at Rose’s heels. He dodged to the side as she turned and shut the gate behind them, closing the pearl-inlaid latch, and then they went forward into the forest.
To find a forest in this strange underground world was odd enough, but this was no ordinary forest. The trees were of shining silver, their branches spreading high into the blackness above them and glowing with their own light. The leaves rattled and chimed together, moved by a breeze that somehow did not touch the humans: Galen’s cape was not stirred by any wind and the princesses’ hair was not ruffled.
Galen stared around in amazement at the forest, but the princesses passed through without comment. He realized that they must see this every night, and it no longer amazed them, if it ever had. The forest, then, was not their reason for coming.
The silver trees thinned and then stopped, and they were on the shore of a great lake. Beneath their feet coarse black sand glittered, and the water that lapped the shores was black and violet and deepest blue. Twelve golden boats with a single lantern hanging from each bow