Princess of the Midnight Ball - Jessica Day George [68]
“They are not here, Your Majesty,” Galen said, bowing. He wished he did not have to explain everything in front of an audience.
“Someone has taken them hostage, sire,” the captain blurted out. “This person claims he knows who.”
The room erupted at the news. The ministers began to babble, waving their arms and pointing out the window. Galen craned his neck and could see a regiment of guards standing in formation in the courtyard below.
“Silence!” the king shouted. “Silence, all of you!” He stepped forward and gripped Galen’s shoulder tightly. “Who has taken my girls?”
Galen took a deep breath. “The same creature who forces them to dance, night after night, Your Majesty. The King Under Stone.”
The prime minister let out a bitter guffaw. “Get him out of here, Captain,” he said, gesturing to the guard beside Galen. “He’s mad. Or a fool. Or both.”
“Or he’s in league with the rioters,” said another minister. “Take him for questioning.”
Galen’s eyes never left the king’s. In King Gregor’s face, Galen could see the realization that the king knew he spoke the truth. Terror flickered in the king’s eyes. Over the king’s shoulder, Galen saw Bishop Schelker half rise. His face, too, showed a horror that told Galen the Bishop of Bruch knew the legends were true as well.
“You have proof,” King Gregor said in a dry whisper. It was not a question.
Galen reached for the pouch at his waist, shifting aside the purple cloak he had tucked awkwardly into his belt. Hard hands closed on Galen’s arms from behind.
“Don’t move,” the captain said in a low voice. “Your Majesty, please step away.”
“Take him to my rooms,” Angier said, waving his hand at the captain. “I will question him later.”
“Bishop Angier, I must speak with the boy,” King Gregor protested, stepping away from Galen even as the captain began to haul him backward.
“Brother Angier,” Bishop Schelker began.
“I said, take him away!” Angier shouted, pounding his fist on a table.
The captain clamped down on Galen’s arms and started to haul him out of the room. Galen struggled but couldn’t break his grip.
“Every night the princesses descend a golden staircase in their sitting room!” Galen shouted. “They walk through a silver forest and are rowed across a black lake to a palace where they dance with twelve princes, the King Under Stone’s sons! Queen Maude was tricked!” By this time they were already out in the passageway, and the door had been shut behind them.
“Shut up,” the captain said, and smacked the back of Galen’s head with one hand.
Galen twisted in the grip of the captain’s single restraining hand and finally broke free. In one quick movement Galen whipped the invisibility cloak around himself and fastened the clasp. The captain gasped as Galen disappeared before his eyes, and Galen backed slowly away from the man, keeping to the carpeted center of the passageway so that his boots wouldn’t make any noise.
Ducking into the first room he came to, he tried to shut out the shouts of the captain as he roused the rest of the household guards. Finding himself in the music room, which overlooked the front gates, Galen hastened around the pianoforte to lean over a small sofa by the window. The regiment of soldiers standing in the courtyard had not moved, and now Galen could see beyond them to the gates. It looked like the whole city of Bruch stood there, shaking their fists and chanting, “Hang the witch!”
Galen turned away and went back into the corridor. The guard was farther down the hall, opening and closing doors, looking for Galen. Galen crept past him and went down the back stairs to the kitchens. In the shadows just outside the baize kitchen door he pulled off his cloak and shoved it into his satchel.
Counting on the fact that the kitchen servants would be the last to know that he was under arrest, Galen strode in as though he hadn’t a care in the world. The head cook quickly beckoned him over to the stove in the far corner, where a large