Princess of the Midnight Ball - Jessica Day George [82]
Maria crossed herself. “So Master Werner was right.” She nodded at Galen. “The king has been in a taking since you shouted out that name in the council this morning, Master Werner, but I don’t know if anyone other than myself and two or three maids believed you.”
Releasing Galen’s hand, Rose crossed to her faithful maid and hugged the woman. “Oh, Maria, it’s been simply awful. But it’s all over now.” She turned back to the others. “We must go to Father at once!”
In the hallway outside their rooms, Rose found Walter Vogel sitting on a chair, an ancient musket in his hands. He got to his feet and bowed stiffly to them. Two guards lay nearby, one with a swollen nose and the other with a bruised jaw.
“Walter! What are you doing here?” Rose put a hand to her throat, startled.
“Funny thing, that,” Walter said calmly. “I was sitting at home, smoking my pipe, when there was a knock at the door. An old woman of my acquaintance had come to tell me to get out my musket and bring it to the palace. ‘The princesses need guarding,’ she told me. ‘You keep folks out of their rooms so that Galen can do his job.’” Walter shrugged. “And I did.”
“I could have used some help down there,” Galen said.
“I’m an old, old man, Galen,” Walter said quietly. “Which I think you know. If I’d gone down with you, it would have finished me, and there are still things I must do. Under Stone was not the only one of his kind.” The wrinkled face broke into a grin. “And it seems that you did admirably on your own.”
“Yes, he did,” Rose agreed.
“That bishop’s with your father in the council chamber now,” Walter warned.
“Good,” Rose said. “Walter, I want plenty of witnesses. Will you please come with us?”
“Of course, Your Highness.”
Rose led the procession down the hall to the council chamber and entered without knocking. Inside King Gregor sat, not in his usual tall carved chair, but in a smaller chair in the middle of the room. The normally gruff king seemed pale and cowed.
The king’s customary chair was occupied by Bishop Angier, who presided over the room with obvious satisfaction. The prime minister and a half dozen of their father’s chief councillors were also in attendance, looking variously mutinous or humble, as though they had all been chastised by the bishop.
But even Angier looked stunned by the sudden entrance of Rose, her sisters, Galen, Maria, and Walter. Rose found their shock quite enjoyable, and stood there for a moment to let them all get a good look. She knew that she and her sisters looked awful: their strange dark gowns torn and muddied with sparkling black dirt, faces smudged and sweaty, hair in disarray. Galen had gunpowder stains on his cheek, and Lily’s hands were black with it.
“Father,” Rose said finally, after everyone had stared enough and she could see Angier starting to swell up prior to making a declaration. She curtsied. Her sisters and maid followed suit; Galen and Walter bowed. “We have returned.”
“Returned? From dancing with the devil?” Angier’s voice had lost some of its force.
Rose didn’t take her eyes off her father, though. “We have long been under a curse, Father,” she said. “But it is broken now.”
King Gregor looked anxiously at Rose, and then beyond her at his other daughters. “It’s over?”
“It’s over,” Rose told him firmly. She took Galen’s arm and drew him forward. “Thanks to Master Werner.”
Relief washed over King Gregor’s face. The councillors began babbling all at once, and Angier got to his feet, pounding a meaty fist on the arm of his chair and shouting for silence.
“I will conduct this inquiry,” the bishop insisted.
“What inquiry?” King Gregor’s voice cut through the noisy room. “My daughters have come with joyous news for me. There is no need for an inquiry.” He sat up straight and smoothed his coat, his gray, worried complexion clearing minute by minute. “Master Werner, were your words this morning true? Have you at last discovered where my daughters go at night?”
“This is nonsense! These girls have learned the ways of the devil from that Bretoner