The Glass Castle (12 page)

At the base of the shield, Avery drew a thick, swirling sash on which she wrote,
Viam inveniam aut faciam.
“I will either find a way or make one.”

She added a few more swirls of color, protected the drawing between two blank pages of parchment, and made her way up to the sewing room where she would ask Kate to sew it for her.

Late that night, after observing another adrenaline-charged chess tournament, Avery changed into her nightgown. She tore twelve eight-inch strips from cloth Kate had given her and tied sections of her hair against her head as tightly as she could.

As she worked, Kate chirped enthusiastically about Angelina’s wedding gown and how perfectly it had all come together. “We will transport it down to her chambers early tomorrow morning with the help of the old woman. I think the king will be pleased with it.”

“But will Angelina?”

“Does it matter?” Kate asked with a grin. “She’ll be so happy with everyone’s hugs and kisses, she won’t care what she’s wearing.”

And suddenly an idea struck Avery.

Once Kate excused herself to take a bath, Avery moved quickly. On a leftover piece of sketch paper, she wrote a simple message with a piece of chalk, folded it, and slipped back upstairs to the empty sewing room. Moving quickly, she pulled the top of the wedding dress bodice down to where it would hit Angelina’s collarbone. Carefully, she fastened the note into the dress, sliding a straight pin through the inside of the material, allowing the point to protrude just enough that Angelina wouldn’t notice until it was pressed hard against her.

It was a long shot, but if Angelina didn’t discover the message until she was in the Great Hall on the afternoon of her wedding day, Avery might be able to assess her role in the kids’ captivity.

How the new queen would respond to the message could reveal everything.

How Avery would ever sleep with such an important day ahead, she had no idea.

Chapter 20

The Moment

Avery awoke to excited voices. Today the king would marry Angelina.

The kids’ quarters pulsed with anticipation.

Every girl donned her best dress and—for the first time since Avery had arrived at the castle—slippers. Circles of girls stood admiring their feet. The room came alive with the lending of lace and beads, jewelry and ribbons. In the shiniest satin and the softest velvet, it was hard to remember that these were orphans who had been torn from everything they’d known.

Girls took turns helping each other tie sashes or fix hair, and nobody argued about anything. Even Ilsa seemed content at the breakfast table, her posse of ladies giggling all around her.

Everyone chose to dress in his or her finest, even knowing no one else would see them. The boys even washed their hair, leaving trails of water trickling down their temples.

The closest any of them would come to the wedding would be the metal grates the scouts used to track the king. Kids had already staked their claims, announcing which grates they intended to use, bartering for the best during chess tournaments.

A mousy boy with tousled hair and a face full of freckles had claimed the best grate in the castle after winning an intense round of chess the night before, and he made a huge show of presenting it to Kate one night at supper.

“Would you be so kind as to accept the grate, my lady?” the boy had asked, bowing low as the kids chortled all around him.

Kate was gracious—of course she was—though Avery was confident she had never noticed the boy before and likely would never notice him again. Kate had given no indication of interest in any of the boys. Late at night when girls whispered about their affections for various ones—shifting almost as frequently as they changed their hairstyles—Kate stayed out of it.

Generally speaking, the kids were thrilled about the marriage of the king because they were convinced Angelina would be the answer to their problems.

“She’ll help the king see that he’s wrong to discard us,” Avery heard one of the girls say.

Another said, “When she becomes a mother, she’ll understand how important kids are for the kingdom—even kids who don’t have families.”

One of the wiser girls said, “There are no throwaways in God’s kingdom.”

They have no idea what they’re talking about. Angelina isn’t anyone’s solution.

Avery thought back to the conversation she had heard her second day in the castle.

“Marry me and make it permanent,”
Angelina had said.

“Or what?”
the king responded.

“Or I will kill… All. Of. Them.”

Avery knew with certainty things were about to get much worse with Angelina on the throne.

“Sit,” Kate said, smiling, and Avery flopped onto the mattress.

Carefully, Kate went to work untying the pieces of cloth in Avery’s hair until each section fell to her shoulders in a picture-perfect coil. Kate tugged and poked and sighed in what sounded to Avery like mock frustration. She was used to it. Her mother had done the same.

When Kate finally released her to the mirror, Avery was pleased. Once again, Kate had worked her magic. Avery’s hair was pulled up in an elegant twist, supported by at least a dozen hairpins. Her mother would have been thrilled.

And then there was the dress.

Kate had described it as “green silk taffeta,” but that hardly did the gown justice. It caught rays of light from the candles and shimmered like the ruby now hidden in Avery’s pillow. It made Avery’s dark hair look glossy and elegant, and she almost felt it was
her
day and not Angelina’s.

“Where did you learn to do this?” Avery asked.

Kate shrugged, coming to stand beside her. “We each have our secrets.”

“I wish you would tell me yours.”

“Someday,” Kate said with a smile. “I promise.”

Avery turned to Kate and held out a slim red ribbon she had cut from a bolt she had taken from storage and been saving for the right moment. “For your wrist.”

When Kate hesitated, looking puzzled, Avery pulled her own sleeve up so Kate could see a matching red ribbon on her wrist.

Kate smiled and didn’t just tie the ribbon in place, but also knotted it.

And it was then that Avery noticed.

The star on Kate’s wrist is gone.

Avery grabbed Kate’s arm and pointed to the bare spot. “Where did it go?”

Kate looked confused.

“Your star. It’s missing. Mine won’t come off no matter how hard I scrub.”

“Silly Avery,” Kate said, easing her arm out of Avery’s grip. “You are so dramatic.” She patted Avery’s cheek. “It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

But she didn’t answer the question.

By the time they made it to the grate Kate’s secret admirer had bestowed on her (and was too shy to ask to share), Avery was nearly floating. The slats overlooked the very spot where the wedding vows would be exchanged and the angle allowed a perfect panoramic view.

The throne room in the Great Hall swelled with prewedding activity.

The walnut floors had been buffed to a shine. Enormous flower arrangements stood sentinel in elaborate pots throughout a sea of candles that could burn a city in seconds. The fragrance of sweet vanilla wafted up through the vents. The thirteen chandeliers cast a beautiful glow over a makeshift platform, and a ruby-red carpet cut a path from the door where the guests entered to the stage where the ceremony would take place.

According to Kate, the king commissioned the platform so every guest would have an unobstructed view. Avery suspected it was Angelina—and not the king—who insisted on the platform. Angelina needed to be seen.

Supposedly the king—but more likely the queen-to-be—had appointed the castle staff to sew hundreds of festive silk flags and hang them for everyone to see. But naturally this task had eventually found its way to the hidden kids, and Tuck had assigned it to Avery, who reassigned it to Kate.

Now the kingdom was buzzing about the “talented seamstress from the castle.”

Avery was proud of her mysterious friend.

Shoulder to shoulder over the grate in their festive dresses, Avery and Kate watched the throne room fill—elaborately dressed adults carrying expensive gifts and talking excitedly as they gathered around long wooden tables bearing platters of fruit and tall silver cups of drink.

Clusters of unmarried girls with intricate braids did their best to draw attention to themselves, as bachelors, in formal attire and carefully polished boots with gleaming buckles, passed seemingly unaware.

The older attendees wore hats bearing large, bright feathers.

Kate and Avery pointed and laughed at the dozen or so plotlines unfolding in the Great Hall beneath them. Every guest had a story.

“I’ve never seen so many happy people in one place,” Avery said. “It’s like heaven on earth.”

“Don’t be fooled,” Kate responded. “The Great Hall is always filled with threats.”