Part 12 (1/2)

”Why must you be so short,” grumbled another voice. Groggily, Oliver placed it as Princess Pansy as she continued to talk. ”I mean, honestly, are you trying to grow?”

”Do you think I enjoy being short?” Petunia shot back. Then she laughed, taking the sting out of her words. ”Cousin Edgar keeps calling me Pocket-size! It's disgusting!”

Through a bubble of laughter, Pansy replied, ”I thought you were just doing it so you wouldn't have to share your clothes.”

Continuing their good-natured bickering, they went over to the wardrobe. Oliver was about to slide out from under the bed when he noticed a third pair of feet had followed them into the room. From the plain gray hem of her gown Oliver knew that it was a maid, and one of the grand d.u.c.h.ess's household. If she had been wearing the black gown of the royal household he might have risked it, but one of the grand d.u.c.h.ess's maids was sure to sound the alarm. He stifled a sigh and prepared to wait some more.

There was no fear he would doze off again, as he saw the day gowns of first one sister, then the other, hit the floor. Stocking feet walked all around the bed, and then the stockings were rolled off as well. Oliver tried not to look, but he couldn't help himself. Petunia's feet were just as delicate as the rest of her, he noticed, and she had a habit of spinning on her toes when she turned, as though she were dancing.

New silk stockings were pulled on. Ruffled petticoats. Corsets were tightened-judging from the grunting-and satin slippers tied onto narrow little feet. And then came the gowns. Petunia was indeed wearing the blue silk with lace sleeves that Oliver had noticed before, and Pansy wore something pink. Oliver hoped to catch them on their way out of the room, and hoped that the maid would not stay behind to straighten up.

But the princesses' evening toilette was not yet finished. They each had their hair taken down and redone by the maid, and then there were jewels to put on, and gloves and fans to be gathered. Oliver really began to wonder if he shouldn't just roll out of his hiding spot and try to overpower the maid. This was interminable!

”Olga,” Petunia said, just as Oliver had decided to risk it. ”Would you please go see if Maria needs any help? She's supposed to be dressing Rose, Lily, and Jonquil, and Jonquil is very particular.”

”Yes, Your Highness.”

The door closed behind the maid, and Petunia stuck her head under the edge of the bed.

”Oliver, is that you?”

”Petunia! What are you doing?” Pansy sounded startled.

”I can hear you breathing under there,” Petunia announced. ”And I smelled evergreen sap.”

She frowned, her blue eyes searching in the darkness under the bed, and Oliver remembered that he was still wearing the cloak.

”Yes, it's me,” he said.

Pansy let out a small scream, and Petunia shushed her.

”I'll come out, I've got Prince Galen's cloak on.”

Petunia stepped back as Oliver crawled out from under the bed. Once he was on his feet, he took off the cloak and folded it over his arm. Pansy gasped again as he became visible but didn't scream.

”What are you doing here?” Petunia demanded.

Pansy had a more pressing question, however. ”Did you watch us undress?”

Oliver felt himself turning red. ”Just ... just your feet,” he stammered. ”I mean, I only saw your feet. I wasn't trying to look, I swear!”

Pansy looked scandalized, and she actually bent her knees a little so that the hem of her gown concealed her feet even more. He must have been born under an unlucky moon, he thought ruefully.

Petunia smacked his upper arm. ”So what are you doing here, other than spying on us in our underthings?”

”I came to warn you,” he said, trying to stand up straight and appear trustworthy.

Both princesses immediately looked wary, exchanging glances. ”Warn us of what?” Petunia asked. She studied him with those blue, blue eyes and Oliver wondered all over again what he was doing here.

”The Nine Daughters of Russaka,” he blurted out at last, before he lost his nerve.

Petunia blinked, but she didn't say anything.

”The grand d.u.c.h.ess is one of the Nine Daughters of Russaka,” he continued. ”And they ... their sons that they had in the tower ... were the sons of the King Under Stone.”

”We know about the grand d.u.c.h.ess,” Petunia said. ”Though I still don't believe it entirely. And who told you about the King Under Stone?” There was a crease between Petunia's brows.

”Princess Poppy,” he replied. ”It was in a book that she gave me, while I was in Bruch. So I guessed that ... that you and your sisters, you were entrapped by the King Under Stone all those years ago, and that's why your dancing shoes wore out every night. Now that you're here as her guests, I thought you should know about the connection between them. Also, I found something in the hothouse where I saw the shadows coming up out of the floor, and I wondered if Crown Prince Galen had had a chance to look at the floor there.”

The princesses seemed slightly stunned by all the words that had come out of Oliver's mouth, and neither of them said anything for minute. Then Pansy took a tentative step toward the door, and Petunia stopped her with a hand on her older sister's arm.

”Are you accusing the grand d.u.c.h.ess of being in league with the King Under Stone?” Petunia didn't look shocked, but her face had gone hard, and Oliver's heart sank a little.

”Yes?” He wished that it didn't sound like a question. ”I mean, I don't know. But I do know ... or, er, I believe that she did have one of the King Under Stone's sons. Did you know he had twelve? All with n.o.blewomen?”

”Yes,” Petunia said, and now her voice was wintry. ”I knew.”

”Oh,” Oliver said. He suddenly felt extremely foolish. ”So, I just, was worried that you might not be safe,” he said lamely.

Oliver could feel his ears burning. Why had he come? They probably knew much more than he did. Princess Poppy had probably just given him the books because he was bored and she had them at hand, and not in some roundabout plea for help.

”You saw shadows in the garden?” Petunia asked.

”Yes,” Oliver said. ”The first night that you were here. They looked like men, or the shadows of men, and they ran through the garden toward your window,” he told her, hoping that at least this bit of information would be useful.

Petunia looked toward the window, thoughtful. ”You say they came out of one of the hothouses? And you found something there? What?”

Before he could answer, though, Pansy spoke up. ”If you won't let me get Rose and Galen,” she complained, ”at least let me lock the door, Pet.”

Petunia let go of her sister, who hurried to lock the door.

”Keep one ear to the door, please,” Petunia told her. ”Olga never lets me out of her sight for very long. And she has her own key.” She sighed heavily.

”I found wax, clear wax all over the floor leading to the door of the hothouse,” Oliver said, before he put his boot in his mouth by saying that Olga sounded more like a jailer than a maid. ”It looks like someone has written something in the wax, but I can't make it out.”

Petunia rose up on her toes, seemingly excited. ”So you've seen Kestilan and his brothers, and you think you know how they get into the gardens here?”

”Kestilan?” There was that name again. Oliver fought down an irrational surge of jealousy for this mysterious being who took up so much of Petunia's attention.

”That's the name of the youngest prince,” Petunia clarified.

”Yes, then, I suppose I did see him,” Oliver told her. ”I didn't really know what he-they-were.”

”They are the sons of the King Under Stone,” Petunia said. ”But they aren't supposed to be here, in this world. They're supposed to be shut up in the prison that was created to hold their father.”

”Someone's coming,” Pansy whispered.