Part 14 (1/2)

Oliver stared at him, aghast. ”Do you mean,” and his voice was barely a whisper, ”that the King Under Stone was responsible for my father's death?”

”And my father's,” Galen said. ”And my mother's, and my little sister's.” He looked down at the tiles. ”I think that's enough to prevent this gateway from working. Whoever did it will have to sc.r.a.pe all the tiles clean and start over.”

Heinrich blew out his candle. After a moment Oliver blew out the ones in his hands as well. In the dark he felt something soft shoved into his arms.

”Take the cloak, lad,” Galen said. ”I hope you've got more sandwiches in your pockets. I'm sending you to Bruch.”

”You are?” Oliver felt numb. They were sending him away from Petunia, away from the heart of the crisis? And what was he supposed to do, try to plead his case to King Gregor again?

”I need you to find Bishop Schelker,” Galen said, to Oliver's surprise. ”Tell him we need him. It's time.”

”You have the spell ready?” Heinrich's brow creased. ”I thought you and the others were still working on it.”

Galen sighed. ”We have something,” he said. ”There's no way to test it, of course. I can find a thousand excuses to read more books, spend another de cade exploring more complex magic. But this,” he gestured at the markings on the floor, ”tells me that we've run out of time.”

”And Schelker will know to bring the others?” Heinrich asked.

”Of course,” his cousin replied. To answer Oliver's questioning look, he added, ”The good bishop is a dab hand at magic, but we're going to need all the help we can get. There are others with a stake in this who will be coming.

”And make sure the bishop arms you as well,” Galen continued. ”Bishop Schelker is also a dab hand at blessing silver daggers and bullets. Lily and Poppy are good with guns-all the girls are-but we can always use one more.”

Gardener.

Petunia dreamed of Oliver that night, a refres.h.i.+ng change from her usual nightmares.

They were walking in the forest, and everywhere they looked there were roses blooming. Blackened winter leaves were cold beneath their feet, but perfect yellow roses glowed from every bare bush. Petunia, laughing with glee, ran from one to the other, taking cuttings that Oliver gathered up in a flat basket. When she had taken a cutting from every bush that she saw, she stopped by one heavy-laden bush to catch her breath. Oliver picked several of the enormous flowers and tucked them into Petunia's hair.

”I wish that they were scarlet, to match your cloak,” he said.

”But I like yellow roses best,” she told him.

”Then I will fill your room with yellow roses,” Oliver said, and leaned close as though to kiss her.

”Stop giggling,” Pansy said, standing there in her nightgown with her hands on her hips.

Petunia turned in embarra.s.sment to apologize to Oliver for her sister intruding on them, but Oliver was gone. The forest was gone. Petunia was suddenly awake, lying in her bed in the grand d.u.c.h.ess's manor, and Pansy was standing over her, glaring.

”It's bad enough that we have the nightmares most nights,” Pansy said crossly. ”But now you've woken me from the best sleep I've had in weeks with your giggling!” She made a disgusted noise and stomped into their dressing room to use the water closet.

Petunia looked around groggily. Judging from the light coming in through a crack in the curtains, it was just after dawn. Then she had to gape: the curtains were not only closed, but the warmth of the room told her that the windows were still closed as well. What had come over Olga?

As though the thought had summoned her, Olga burst into the room and marched over to the window, yanking aside the curtains. Petunia covered her face with a small moan as the winter sun stabbed into her eyes. The maid ignored her and tied back the curtains, humming as she tidied the room.

”Isn't it rather early?” Pansy had come back from the dressing room and didn't seem all that thrilled with the open curtains either.

”But you're to have a very big day today, Your Highnesses,” the maid said.

”We are?”

Petunia blinked at the maid. So far as she knew, they were going to get a more thorough tour of the gardens ... and that was more or less the extent of their plans.

A stab of anxiety went through her as Olga began to fiddle with the coverlet. Was Oliver underneath her bed? She hadn't heard him come back, but then, this was the best night's sleep she'd gotten in weeks as well-she prayed silently that Oliver hadn't heard her giggling in her sleep. And that she hadn't said his name aloud.

”What precisely is happening today?” Pansy asked.

Petunia got up and started sorting her knitting basket. It was on a chair across from the bed, and she contrived to drop a ball of yarn so that it rolled underneath.

”Clumsy!” She started patting around under the bed before Olga could offer to help.

”Prince Grigori has arranged quite the outing for you all,” the maid said. ”First you are to go riding in the forest with him, and then have lunch at his hunting lodge.”

Petunia had writhed her way across the underside of the bed, but hadn't found any sign of Oliver. She crawled out from under the bed on the other side, making Pansy jump as she appeared, holding a ball of yellow yarn.

”Oh! What were you doing?”

”Getting my yarn,” Petunia said meaningfully, tilting her head slightly at the bed.

”Oh. Oh!” Pansy appeared to catch her hint at last. ”And did you find it?”

”Here.” She held up the ball. ”And the bed is very clean underneath,” she said.

”I shall tell the chambermaid that you approve,” Olga said, her voice flat. ”Are you not excited to spend the day with Prince Grigori?”

”Of course we are,” said Petunia brightly. She tossed the yarn into the basket. ”Aren't we, Pansy?”

But Pansy's face was creased. ”Is it safe? Aren't there bandits? And wild animals?”

”Prince Grigori is the greatest hunter in Ionia,” the maid snapped. ”If he says that you will be safe with him, then you will be safe with him!” And she swept out of the room.

”Well,” Pansy said, her eyes wide. ”I guess we'll be dressing ourselves, then.”

”She's in love with Grigori,” Petunia said slowly.

”I think she made that very plain,” Pansy said, going to the wardrobe. ”Are you sure Oliver isn't in here?”

”He's not under the bed,” Petunia said. She went to the wardrobe and rustled the gowns about. ”Oliver?” When no answer came, she pulled out her riding dress and threw it on the bed. ”I don't know where he is,” she said. ”Or if he's coming back.”

”I'm sorry,” Pansy said, putting a hand on Petunia's arm. ”But with things as they are, he's probably better off. I mean, we're dealing with the King Under Stone and his brothers, and the grand d.u.c.h.ess might be-” Pansy stopped with a gasp, her eyes wide. ”What if she's Rionin's mother?” Pansy's eyes got even wider, if that were possible. ”Or worse-the mother of one of the princes we killed? She must loathe us!”

”The grand d.u.c.h.ess is a rather strange old lady,” Petunia admitted, remembering their conversation from the night before. ”But I can't imagine she would have anything to do with this. She doesn't have any contact with her ... firstborn ... I'm sure. How could she?”

This gave Pansy pause. ”Well,” she said at last. ”I still think we need to be wary.”

Petunia busied herself getting dressed, not wanting to start an argument. Olga soon returned and helped them finish dressing, doing their hair in simple styles that wouldn't interfere with their riding hats. Not that Petunia planned to wear hers. It was very stiff and the veil itched, and she never wore it unless one of her sisters fussed.