Part 13 (1/2)
There was a faint scratch at the door, and her maid entered. The woman gave a dismayed shriek when she saw her mistress sitting before the uncovered windows and rushed to release the heavy velvet curtains from their embroidered ties.
”Still and all,” the grand d.u.c.h.ess said, ignoring her fussing maid, ”these old bones do wish for a place where there is no snow or ice. Where there are only gentle winds to stir the branches of the trees and the sand along the sh.o.r.e of the lake.”
”What lake it that?” Petunia asked, frowning. She had a sudden image of the black lake in the silver wood, but cast it aside. ”Is that where you lived as a child?”
”Nowhere I've been,” the grand d.u.c.h.ess said, shaking her head. ”Just a place I wish existed.”
”Oh,” Petunia said. Again she rejected a vision of the Kingdom Under Stone. The maid was now making motions about removing her mistress's gloves and jewels. ”Well, good night, Your Grace.”
”Good night, my dear Petunia,” said the grand d.u.c.h.ess. Her green eyes fixed sharply on the maid at last. ”Good heavens, Ilenya, have you always been this incompetent?”
Petunia, forgotten, backed away. The grand d.u.c.h.ess's sharp tone and the flash in her green eyes made Petunia feel distinctly uncomfortable, but she couldn't think why. They reminded her of someone, but she couldn't recall who. Grigori's eyes were brown.
Petunia hurried up to her own bedchamber, where Pansy was already being undressed by Olga. Thinking that Oliver probably had not eaten all day, Petunia rang the bell and ordered the footman to bring a plate of something. The entire time, she was intensely aware of Oliver lying under her bed as Olga helped her and Pansy undress. Petunia forced herself to nibble one of the small sandwiches the footman brought, and Pansy took another, then they both protested loudly at the idea of having the plate taken away, though neither of them was touching the rest of the food. Petunia wondered how she would get the food to Oliver, or talk to him, if Olga insisted on sitting in the room, sewing all night, as she sometimes did.
Inspiration struck as Pansy knelt by the side of the bed to say her prayers. Petunia was not much for praying, personally, though she had had religious instruction by Bishop Schelker alongside her sisters. Still, she knelt beside Pansy and ignored her sister's startled look.
”I'm so tired, I think I will pray aloud to night so that I don't drift off,” Petunia announced.
”All right, but don't take too long about it,” Pansy grumbled as she climbed into bed.
Petunia ignored Pansy and Olga, who was hovering nearby, and bowed her head over her folded hands. She took a moment to order her thoughts, and then plunged in.
”Dear G.o.d,” she said loudly. ”Please protect my sisters and their husbands and their husbands-to-be. Please bless my father, and Dr. Kelling, and Bishop Schelker. Please watch over all of us here at the estate, especially the grand d.u.c.h.ess, because she is innocent and frail. Please watch over Prince Grigori, that he will not be tempted to do evil, and Olga, that she will also be good.” Petunia s.h.i.+fted on her knees, feeling Olga's eyes boring into the back of her head. ”Please guide Galen and Heinrich in their studies, since they do not know where to direct their attention at this time, and please help them find a way to guard us all from our nightmares. Amen.”
”Forgive me, Your Highness, but Westfalian prayers seem very odd,” Olga said, helping Petunia into bed.
”I would imagine that they do,” was all Petunia answered. She could see by Pansy's face that her sister had understood the purpose of her prayer.
”If I may ask, Your Highness, what are the princes studying?” The maid's brow was creased with confusion. ”I thought that they were past the age of school.”
”They're studying magic,” Pansy said, before Petunia could think of an evasion.
She looked at the maid quickly to see how Olga reacted. Olga snorted and rolled her eyes, as though Pansy were just being silly.
”Now could you please turn out the light?” Pansy snapped. ”And don't you dare take those sandwiches, I might want one later!”
Pansy rolled over and went to sleep, but Petunia stayed awake long after Olga left, and long after Oliver crawled out from under the bed, grabbed some sandwiches, and slipped out the door. She hoped that he was going to Galen and Rose's room, and she hoped, too, that he hadn't known she was awake when he had leaned over her and kissed her hair. She wanted to savor that touch forever.
Conspirator.
Oliver had never had someone pray to him before. It had been slightly amusing until he realized that if Petunia was frightened enough of her maid to use such a ruse, Oliver really should be on his guard. When they first met, Petunia had pointed a pistol directly at his face without wavering for an instant, yet she was being terrorized by this Olga.
Did the King Under Stone have human servants outside of his kingdom who were helping him? If he did, this maid was certainly suspect. Oliver's experience with servants was limited, but it seemed to him that a good lady's maid wouldn't order her mistress around in quite the way that Olga did with Petunia and Pansy.
Once he was sure that the maid was gone and the princesses were asleep, Oliver rolled out from under the bed. He found the plate of sandwiches and shoved one in his mouth whole, wrapping two more in a napkin and stowing them in a pocket.
Chewing and swallowing quickly, he leaned over Petunia and kissed her inky curls. He just couldn't help himself. His eyes had grown accustomed to the dark after a long day spent under the bed, so he could see her white face nestled in the blackness of her hair. He was sure she would wake if he touched her face, so he was careful only to press his lips to her soft hair, breathing in its scent of flowers and cinnamon, before he slipped out of the room.
He made his way down the hall, not sure where to find Galen or Heinrich. His every nerve was on edge-even though he was invisible-in case he stumbled upon Grigori. He listened at each of the doors, hearing nothing, until at the fourth door there was the sound of a woman crying and a man's voice speaking in soothing tones. He hated to interrupt such a scene but didn't know what else to do, so he softly knocked.
The voices went silent, then the man called out, asking who was there. It was Prince Heinrich, and some of Oliver's tension drained away.
”It's Oliver,” he said, as loudly as he dared.
The door was opened immediately, and Heinrich peered out into the corridor. Seeing nothing, he stepped back, opening the door wider. Oliver slipped in, tapping the prince on the shoulder so that Heinrich would know where he was. The prince quickly shut the door and locked it.
Distinctly uncomfortable, Oliver undid the cloak and watched his body reappear. Princess Lily was sitting up in the bed in her nightgown, her eyes red from crying and her face pale and thin. Her hair, a rich dark brown, was loose and fell nearly to the bedclothes.
”I'm so sorry to disturb you,” Oliver said, staring at his boots. ”But I have information, and I needed to give it to you right away. I told Petun-Princess Petunia-but she hasn't been able to speak to any of you privately, so I thought I would come myself.”
”You'd better fetch Rose and Galen,” Lily said to her husband.
Heinrich left so silently he might as well have been invisible.
”If you don't mind, I'm going to put my dressing gown on,” Lily said.
”No, I don't-oh!” Oliver quickly turned his back to the princess.
He heard her slip out of the bed and the rustle of her putting on a dressing gown. There was a flapping noise as she put on slippers as well.
”Thank you,” she said.
Oliver turned around to find her in a lavender silk dressing gown. She expertly braided her long hair and tied a ribbon around the end, smiling at him as he watched in a sort of dazed fascination.
”Petunia's hair is too curly to braid,” she said conversationally.
Oliver wasn't sure why, but that was what finally made him blush. Not barging in on her and her husband during a private moment. Not seeing her in her nightgown, but her mentioning Petunia's hair.
The hair he had just kissed.
He made a noncommittal noise and almost collapsed with relief when the door opened a heartbeat later to admit Heinrich and the crown prince and princess. Galen was still dressed, though he was wearing a plain dark suit and not evening clothes. Seeing him, Oliver realized that Heinrich was dressed in much the same un.o.btrusive manner.
Rose was in a dark-red dressing gown with Far Eastern embroidery. She gave Oliver a warm smile without a hint of self-consciousness as she sat on the bed. Lily sat beside her, and they all looked expectantly at Oliver, who cleared his throat.
”I came to make sure that Princess Petunia and the rest of you were all right,” he began, wondering how much of an idiot he was going to feel like before this was all through. ”I went to the hothouse I told you about before, the one that I saw the shadows coming from, and I looked around to see if I could find anything.”
”I take it that you did,” Galen said, raising an eyebrow.
”Yes,” Oliver said, encouraged. ”At first I didn't think there was anything to find, but then I noticed that the floor was swept clean from the table in the middle to the door, but it didn't look like anyone had been in the hot house since I was there two weeks ago. When I looked closer, I saw that someone had written on the floor with wax, but I couldn't decipher the writing.”
The two princes exchanged looks.
”Do you ... want me to show you?” Oliver offered, wondering if they were now about to thank him and then send him away. He wasn't going to leave Petunia, not while he still felt a pounding in his head that told him she was in danger.
”Yes,” Galen said. ”Just let me get something to light our way and we'll go.” He took some of the tall white candles from a candelabrum on top of the desk and put them in a bag slung over his shoulder. ”We'd better go out the window,” he said.