Princess of the Silver Woods (Twelve Dancing Princesses) (31 page)

She remembered him having to essentially carry her through the steps of the dance, or bend almost double to reach her waist, while on the black throne the King Under Stone watched and wallowed in the power that he gained from the dancing.

“So it has been inspiring to see what a beautiful woman you have become,” Kestilan soldiered on.

“That’s repulsive,” Petunia replied. “First, that you’ve been dancing with me since I was a small child, planning to marry me all that time. And now you’ve only decided that you really want to marry me because someone else wants me. Petty and disgusting, Kestilan. Petty and disgusting.” She shook her head.

“What would you have me say?” He glared down at her.

“I would ask for the truth from anyone else,” she said. “But I think I just heard it, and I don’t want to hear any more.”

“Petunia, are you all right?” Pansy asked as she and Telinros danced near them.

“I’m fine,” Petunia said. “But I’m going to sit out the next dance.”

“You are?” Kestilan looked surprised.

“Yes,” Petunia told him. “We are still allowed to sit out at least one dance, I believe.”

When the music ended, she pulled free of Kestilan and hurried to one of the chairs lining the wall before they were caught up in the next dance. He started to follow, but she gave him a look that sent him to the refreshment table instead.

Pansy sat down beside her. “I cannot bear another minute!” She looked as if she were going to burst into tears.

“Paaansy,” came a hollow voice from Pansy’s other side. “I am a gooood spirit!”

“Galen,” whispered Pansy in delight.

Petunia almost laughed out loud in relief. It was just like ten years ago, when Galen had pretended to be a ghost so that Pansy would help him set up the escape. Petunia felt someone
take her hand. The hand was warm and calloused and already so familiar. Oliver.

“Oliver’s going to take you across the lake,” Galen said. “Remember: leave youngest to oldest.”

“I still think Lily should go first,” Petunia argued. “It would be just our luck to have Rionin decide to marry her tonight.”

“Getting Lily out is going to be quite a trick,” Galen said. “I may have to create a diversion, which would scotch everyone else’s chances.”

“Fine,” Petunia agreed. “But we’re taking Jonquil now.”

“Definitely,” Oliver whispered. “Poor girl.”

At the beginning of the ball, Rionin had given Jonquil to the fox-faced man. Now he was dragging her through the steps of the dances despite her weeping. In fact, he seemed to enjoy the weeping, which made Petunia wish she still had her pistol.

“Follow me,” Petunia said, rising to her feet.

Kestilan appeared before she had taken two steps.

“No, I’m still not ready to dance,” Petunia told him, watching the dancers for a break in the pattern so that she could walk through without getting trampled.

“You’ve sat out an entire dance almost,” Kestilan said.

“And I’ll sit out another if I have to,” Petunia said without looking at him. “Jonquil needs us. Just look at the state of her! Pan and I are going to help her get herself together.”

With that she began weaving her way between the figures of a particularly wild gigue. She hoped that Pansy and Oliver were
able to stay with her. The sooner they got Jonquil out, the sooner Galen could send Orchid and Lilac, and then the others.

When she reached Jonquil and the fox-faced man, Petunia stopped them with a firm hand on Jonquil’s arm. “Come, darling,” Petunia said, “let’s get you freshened up.”

“She must dance,” said Jonquil’s partner, leering down at her.

“She needs to retire for a moment,” Petunia said, trying to pry the courtier’s fingers from Jonquil’s thin arm.

“No,” the foxy man snarled.

“Say no to me one more time,” Petunia snarled back, “and I will have you killed. And if you think I won’t, and if you think Rionin won’t, then you don’t know either of us very well.”

Petunia caught Jonquil around the waist as the fox-faced man pushed her away. At the archway that led to the hall, Tirolian had his hands locked around Daisy’s waist as though preventing her from fleeing.

“Daisy doesn’t need freshening up,” he said. “She’s just come back from the retiring room, haven’t you, my pet?”

“Pet is
my
nickname, if you must know,” Petunia told him. “Now make way; Jonquil is faint.”

As they walked around Daisy and Tirolian, Petunia had to fight the urge to give Daisy some sign that all would be well. But she could feel Oliver’s hand on her back, urging her on, and knew that the least hint of something amiss would ruin their chances. Tirolian was watching, so they went quickly into the retiring room.

“I can’t take it,” Jonquil said, bursting into fresh tears. She sank down on stool covered in threadbare velvet.

“Shhh,” Pansy said, wiping at their older sister’s face with her handkerchief. “We’re going now, please don’t cry.”

“Now?” Jonquil gulped, looking around. “Are Galen and Oliver … ?” She stopped crying and got to her feet with visible effort. “I’m ready.”

Petunia had stayed near the door while Oliver kept watch just outside. The door opened a crack and his voice came in softly.

“It’s clear.”

“Let’s go,” Petunia whispered.

They walked swiftly through the front hall to the palace doors. One was ajar, but Petunia didn’t have time to wonder about it, just kept going as she half carried Jonquil.

“The boats are there,” Oliver whispered. “I’ll row you across and—”

“Hello, Olga,” Petunia said.

They stopped short a few paces from the boats. Olga was sitting in one, trying to row even though the boat was too far out of the water to actually move.

“Where are you going?” Olga eyed them suspiciously.

“We were going to hide in the silver wood, to get away from our princes for a time,” Petunia said. Jonquil let out a little moan, and Petunia squeezed her waist to make her stop.

Olga looked outraged and started to say something, but Petunia cut her off.

“Do you want us to help you across? You’re not going to get far, otherwise,” Petunia said.

“What are you doing?” Oliver whispered in her ear.

“Pan and I will row Jonquil and Olga across,” she murmured, trying not to move her lips. “You get Orchid and Lilac.”

“Are you sure?”

Petunia decided that she had had quite enough of everyone doubting her.

“Come on, Jonquil,” she said, pulling her sister toward the boat. Pansy trailed behind, looking uncertain. “We’ll help you get to your darling Grigori,” Petunia told Olga, “but you keep your mouth shut about what we’re doing, all right?”

Olga still looked suspicious.

“Do you love Grigori or not?” Petunia wanted to slap the girl. How dare she sit there like a mule; did she not realize that Petunia and her sisters were in grave danger and it was partially her fault?

“Get in,” Olga said. “I’ll keep quiet.”

Petunia installed Jonquil in the bow, and Olga moved to the stern. Petunia sat in the middle and Pansy pushed them easily down into the water. Petunia could tell that Oliver was helping her, and just hoped that Olga wasn’t looking when Pansy miraculously leaped into the boat without getting her skirts wet.

“It’s too easy,” Jonquil whispered.

Rescuer

Once Petunia was well under way with Pansy and Jonquil, Oliver ran back to the ballroom. He scanned the room, but of course there was no sign of Galen. Then Oliver realized: they were supposed to take the princesses out youngest to oldest, to avoid confusion … but he didn’t know who came after Pansy. Iris? Lilac?

Then he saw one of them coming his way. It was Orchid, with the spectacles. She had spilled something purple on her skirt and was holding it up so it wouldn’t drip on the floor.

“Clumsy me,” she called almost gaily over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll help you,” said another one. Lilac?

“Hurry,” Oliver muttered as they passed him.

The other one—Lilac, he was almost certain—jumped.

“Sorry,” Oliver muttered.

“Galen’s bringing Violet,” Orchid whispered. “See if you
can get Iris away from Derivos.” She gave a little flutter with her free hand in the direction of the dais.

“Thanks,” Oliver murmured.

Iris was engaged in heated debate with her prince right at the foot of the dais. Lily had gotten up from her throne, and Rose was moving toward them as well.

“It’s just not fair,” Iris was saying shrilly. “Why can’t I be with Blathen? And you’ve always had your eyes on Rose, Derivos, don’t deny it!” She jabbed Derivos’s chest with one finger.

“You
want
to marry Blathen?” Derivos was plainly baffled by this turn of events.

The King Under Stone sat on his throne, laughing.

Oliver could see what Iris was doing. She was causing a diversion so the others could slip away. But he’d heard about their escape ten years ago, and that diversion. When it had ended, the king had seen immediately that the most of the princesses were gone. If Rionin saw through Iris’s ploy before the others were out …

“It’s just not fair,” Iris said, beginning to cry. “You get to trade us or cast us aside! And we’re stuck with your decision! It’s just not fair!”

“Of course it’s not fair,” said Poppy, coming forward and putting her arm around Iris’s waist. “When have they ever been fair?” She glared at Rionin.

“Come, dear, you’re not yourself. Let’s go get something to drink,” said Daisy, coming up on Iris’s other side.

That was nine of them, Oliver calculated. Nine of them out safely, if the twins managed to sneak Iris out now. Leaving
Hyacinth, Rose, and Lily. There would have to be another diversion, Oliver realized. A big one. They’d hoped to slip the princesses out without resorting to extreme measures, but Oliver’s stomach was twisting with fear and he knew they needed to go, now.

Galen had the same thought.

“Grab Rose, Lily, and Hya,” came the crown prince’s voice in his ear. “I’m going to make some noise.”

“Right,” Oliver whispered.

Galen didn’t wait long. Oliver was just reaching for Rose’s arm when the far wall of the ballroom exploded outward in a maelstrom of black shards. Everyone screamed, including Oliver, much to his embarrassment. He was fortunate that no one noticed the extra voice in all the confusion.

Rionin stepped down from the dais and strode toward the explosion. Rose had Lily by one arm and was calling for Hyacinth. Oliver could see her, caught in the melee in the middle of the dance floor. He tugged at Rose’s sleeve to get her attention.

“What is it?” She looked around, irritated.

“It’s Oliver,” he said, speaking normally so that he could be heard over the din. “I’ll get Hyacinth, you and Lily run for the boats.”

“All right,” she said reluctantly.

Oliver dodged through the crowd to Hyacinth. She was looking around for her sisters, but her partner wouldn’t let go of her elbow. Oliver took her free hand in his, leaned close, and whispered. “It’s Oliver, come with me.”

“I have to find Violet; she hates loud noises,” Hyacinth babbled to her partner.

She yanked free of her prince, and then Oliver was leading her through the throng as swiftly as he could. They were in the main hall, and he saw tears streaking Hyacinth’s face, when they heard the cry.

“Our brides!”

“Run!” Hyacinth screamed.

She let go of Oliver’s hand and raced for the doors. Oliver stayed close on her heels. When they were through the enormous front doors, he barred them with a silver twig. It seemed foolish: so small and fragile, balanced between the two great latches. But when their pursuers rattled the doors, the silver glowed and no one came through.

“Hya! Hya!” Rose called.

“Come on,” Hyacinth said blindly to Oliver.

He unfastened the short purple cape and gathered up the longer cloak he wore beneath it, following her to where Rose and Lily were waiting in one of the two boats left. He pointed Hyacinth toward the empty boat, but Rose stopped him.

“Don’t,” she said, “Galen …”

“I’m sorry,” Oliver said, stepping back.

Hyacinth climbed into the other boat with Rose and Lily, and Oliver pushed off, leaping into the bow at the last moment. Hyacinth and Rose were in the rower’s seat, and Lily was in the stern. In her hand she clutched two silver knitting needles, and her face was beautiful and strained.

The princes had broken the door to the palace open before their boat reached the other shore, the silver twig proving to be a temporary lock. The princes came down to the
water, the courtiers following behind, and four of the princes jumped into the remaining boat.

There was no sign of Galen.

When their boat crunched onto the far shore, Oliver leaped out and dragged it farther up the sand. The three princesses climbed out and began to run up the path. Rose had tears streaming down her cheeks, but she didn’t look back.

“Are you wearing Petunia’s cloak?” Hyacinth said suddenly, slowing down a little to stare at him.

“Yes,” Oliver said, taking her arm and hurrying her along. “I knew she’d want it, and she left it in her room. I couldn’t think of how else to carry it.”