Princess of the Midnight Ball - Jessica Day George [52]
Trailing behind Rose, Galen thought about what he would tell King Gregor. How to explain where the princesses went every night? How to tell the king that his late, lamented wife had made some sort of bargain with the strange, cold king of this underground realm? The princesses could not speak to support his story, and it was very likely that the king would not believe him.
As they passed beneath the gleaming, otherworldly trees, Galen reached up and snapped off a pair of twigs. The sharp cracking noise made Rose stop dead in her tracks, and she turned around, wildly searching for whatever had made the sound.
“What was that?”
“Rose?” Up ahead, lamp once more in hand, Lily turned and looked down the line of girls. “Are you all right?”
Galen stood very still, holding the twigs beneath his cape. They were cold, and very slick and hard. If he didn’t know better, he would say that they really were silver, and not the product of a tree at all.
“Didn’t you hear it?” Rose squinted at the trees. “There was a loud cracking sound!”
“I didn’t hear anything,” Lily said, her usually gentle voice impatient. “Let’s go! The maids and your gardener will wake soon.”
“I heard it too,” Orchid said. She was standing just in front of Rose. “Maybe one of the branches broke.”
The sisters all looked at the black ground around the trees, but no glint of silver from a broken branch or even a fallen leaf could be seen. Petunia got down on her hands and knees and crawled around the base of the nearest tree.
“Petunia, stop that!” Iris hauled the youngest sister to her feet. “You’re getting filthy!”
Black mud that sparkled faintly in the light from Lily’s lamp covered Petunia’s skirt and the toes of her ruined dancing slippers.
Daisy was hopping from foot to foot. “We have to go,” she said. “We’ve never been this late: the staircase is already there. What if it goes away again before we set home?”
Slipping the twigs into the pouch hanging from his belt, Galen strode after the princesses as they trotted through the woods and passed under the pearl-studded arch. Rose shut the gates behind them, nearly catching the tail of Galen’s cape as he slid through. With a jolt Galen realized that they would expect to see him sleeping in the chair before the fire when they came up through the floor. He sprinted past the princesses, making Lily’s lamp flicker as he passed, and took the golden stairs two at a time, trying his best not to make too much noise even as he raced ahead of them.
“What was that?” he heard one of them cry out as he passed.
Galen yanked off the cape and shoved it into his satchel as he dropped into the chair. He fought to turn his panting breath into snores even as, from beneath his lashes, he saw Lily’s head rise up out of the black square in the floor. She came at once to his side and peered down at him, checking to see if he was still asleep. As the lamplight fell on his face, he snorted and shifted in his chair but didn’t open his eyes.
“Is he still asleep?” Rose whispered.
“Yes,” Lily whispered back.
Galen listened as they rustled about, helping each other undress and go into their separate bedrooms to catch a few precious hours of sleep. When they had left the sitting room, he took out his cape and refolded it so that it fit into the satchel better. Then he stretched and found a more comfortable position in the chair, to sleep a little bit himself. He had a lot to think about, but he was far too tired to reason it out now.
“I don’t know how they can do it night after night,” he mumbled as he drifted off. “Poor Rose….”
Needles
A maid woke Galen, her eyes alight with a question. Galen paused, and then shook his head, assuming a sorrowful expression. She sighed and patted his arm. He went down the hall to the room set aside for him to freshen up before breakfast.
Breakfast was another solemn affair, with Bishop Angier at one end of the table, a stern expression on his face, and King Gregor at the other, looking mournful. Dr. Kelling also joined then, his face anxious. All three men watched Galen carefully,