Princess of the Midnight Ball - Jessica Day George [64]
The blanket had been dark green boiled wool, something Galen was very familiar with. Army blankets were made of the same stuff, and in a pinch you could use them to make a lean-to, or to line the inside of a boot that was wearing out. Boiled wool was itchy and stiff, and soldiers joked that it was bulletproof, so that no one could shoot you in your sleep.
Bulletproof? Perhaps not. But stronger than regular wool? Yes.
He went to the kitchens and asked to speak to the head cook. She was a large woman, with the air of someone usually good-tempered who was having a bad day. She shouted at the staff, but halfheartedly, and they all spooked and scrambled whenever she did, as though uneasy themselves.
“My dear goodfrau,” Galen said warmly. “I am Galen Werner; I’ve been a guest here the past two nights. Please let me compliment you on your cooking.”
“You’re the young gardener,” she grunted. Then she flipped two cookies off a tray with a spatula and waved at Galen to take them.
“I am. And so I assume you know why I’m now a guest in the palace?” He glanced around, not wanting to let the entire kitchen in on his plan.
“I do,” the cook said in a low voice. “I’m guessing you want some help?”
“If you would be so kind …?”
“Not sure what I can do,” she said with a shrug.
“Something very simple.” He fished out the black wool chain. “I’d like you to boil this. With this, and this.” He took the basil from his pocket and the nightshade from under his lapel and laid all three items on the table.
The plump cook’s mouth fell open. “You want me to boil these? Together?”
“Yes, if you would be so kind.”
“But why?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you,” Galen said. “But if you could just keep it all in a pot, covered and boiling, tonight, I would pay you.” He thought of his meager collection of coins, and figured that it would be enough for so simple a task.
“And this will help the princesses?”
“I hope so.”
“All right,” the woman said doubtfully. “I’ll do it. But you don’t need to pay me.”
“Thank you.”
Feeling like he was gaining an advantage at last, Galen picked more basil and nightshade for his pockets, and was in almost buoyant good spirits during Bishop Angier’s evening sermon. Supported by her father and eldest sisters, Petunia had emerged from the bishop’s chambers with a tear-stained face but her exuberant nature only slightly dampened.
After dinner Galen played cards with Violet, Iris, and Orchid. He forced himself to yawn several times but didn’t pretend to fall asleep until after Violet had defeated them all.
Sand
Back on the sofa where Galen had “slept” the night before, he snored his best while the girls prepared themselves for the ball. At one point, he caught himself starting to fall asleep in truth. Fishing a knitting needle from his satchel with one hand, he jabbed himself in the leg with it every time he began to doze. Then, concealed by the back of the sofa, he slipped on his purple cape and was hard on Rose’s heels as soon as the staircase began to lower.
As they descended the golden stair, the white shawl slipped from Rose’s shoulders and without thinking he gently lifted it back into place.
“Thank you,” she said. Then she stopped dead and looked over her shoulder with a half-fearful, half-hopeful expression. “Galen?”
“Rose? What is it?” Pansy came and took her eldest sister’s hand as the others continued on down the steps.
“Nothing.” Rose shook her head as though to clear it. “I keep thinking— Never mind.” Leading Pansy by the hand, Rose continued on down the stairs.
“Was it the good spirit?”
This made Rose stop again. “What did you say?”
“I’ve been talking to a good spirit at the ball the last two nights,” Pansy confided, her little face turned up adoringly to her sister’s. “He’s very kind. He cheers me up when I am tired and sad.”
“He—he does?”
“Rose! Pansy!” Jonquil, standing with the other princesses at the foot of