The Rose and the Thorn

CHAPTER 4

Reuben placed another log up on its end and, with a single stroke, split it. The trick was to cut the wood clean in one swing but not plant the head of the axe in the chopping block. Sinking the blade added work and chewed up the block. Sometimes the grain and knots made it impossible; then he was stuck with using wedges and the blunt face of the axe. While just brute work, he’d developed a skill that made his swing more likely to succeed on the first try, and he liked to think he was good at something. As if to prove him wrong, his last stroke had too much force and the axe went firmly into the block. He left it there and tossed the splits aside. When done, he reached out once more for the old worn handle and paused. This was the last day he would ever split wood. The thought surprised him. Looking at the chopping block and knowing he would never again swing that axe was the first bit of reality to invade his routine.

Being a soldier would be a step up. Now he would receive a wage that he could spend as he saw fit. Although most of that salary he would never see, as it would go toward paying for his food, uniform, weapons, and living space-something his father’s pay had covered so far. He should have been excited at the impending promotion, at the recognition that he was a man at last, only he didn’t feel like one. The squires had beaten, and a child had bested, him both in the same day. He didn’t feel worthy to take the burgundy and gold. He was only fit to open doors, haul water, and split wood. These were the tasks he was good at, what he was comfortable with, and what was being taken from him.

Hidden from the castle doors, Reuben was splitting wood under the oak on the far side of the woodpile when he heard them. He’d thought the stormy sky would have been enough to keep the squires indoors learning table manners, helping to dress their lords, or listening to the tales of the knights. The sound of the approaching laughter proved him wrong.

“What do we have here?” Ellison rounded the woodpile with the Three Cruelties in tow. “Muckraker, how wonderful. I was looking for you.” Ellison stepped in front of Reuben while the others circled around.

There was no chance to run. The best he could do was yank the axe from the block, but a heavy splitting axe was a slow weapon, and each of the squires wore their swords-metal this time.

“Word has it that you’re to be sworn in as a guard of the castle tomorrow. There are complications with beating a soldier in the king’s service, so this will be my last chance to pay you back for the bruise.”

Reuben only then noticed a small purple mark on Ellison’s cheek.

“The bad news is that you’ll spend your first day of service in the infirmary.”

Ellison punched him in the jaw. The blow stunned him and Reuben staggered back into Horace, who shoved him to the ground. Reuben crouched, dazed for a moment before jumping up and breaking the axe free of the block by slapping the handle. He held it with both hands. Horace seized Reuben from behind in a bear hug. While not skilled with a sword, Reuben knew his way around an axe. He thrust backward with the handle, jamming it hard into Horace’s broad gut. The big arms let go and the squire dropped to his knees. Ellison rushed forward, but Reuben expected that and dodged behind Horace, who was still doubled over. Ellison and Horace both fell.

That’s when Willard and Dills drew their swords. Once he got to his feet, so did Ellison.

Reuben had at least managed to put his back to the woodpile. Now all four were out in front.

“Get his arms and legs. I don’t want him to ever forget us,” Ellison said. “We’ll each carve our initials into him.”

“My name’s short enough to write the whole thing,” Dills declared.

They closed in, jabbing, leering, and grinning.

“Is this a private party or can anyone play?” a familiar voice asked.

Looking over Ellison’s shoulder, Reuben spotted the wild-haired boy who had bested him at the bridge, the one the princess had called Mauvin.

“No one wants you here, Pickering, so go catch your stupid frogs.”

“Hey, Fanen,” the boy shouted over his shoulder and toward the castle keep. “It’s the hero from yesterday, the one who risked himself to save Arista.” He looked at Reuben. “What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into now?”

“None of your business, boy,” Dills snapped.

At the sound of the word boy, Reuben saw Mauvin grin.

His younger brother came around the woodpile a moment later. When he did, Mauvin pointed. “No one at the castle can see a thing.”

This was exactly what Reuben guessed Ellison had realized, only now Ellison and the Three Cruelties looked less pleased.

“Muckraker and I have a score to settle,” Ellison explained. “This has nothing to do with you two.”

“Muckraker? Oh, you’re mistaken. His name is Hilfred and he’s a friend of ours,” Mauvin said, surprising all, but none more than Reuben. “We had great fun sparring a few days ago. Hilfred didn’t do so well, but he was fighting a Pickering.” The boy winked at him. “I’m sure he’ll fare much better against you, even though he only has an axe and all four of you have swords.”

“But still, that’s not very sporting,” Fanen said.

“Downright rude if you ask me.” Mauvin continued to grin. “Hilfred, how dare you hog all of these squires to yourself. I demand that Fanen and I get to play too.”

The Pickering boys drew their swords in unison with elegant ease. As they did, Dills and Willard spun to face them. “Didn’t one of you say something about carving initials?” Mauvin asked. Looking at Dills, he added, “That will be fun. And just to jog your dim-witted memory, I’m the son of Count Leopold Pickering of Galilin, one of the five Lords of the Charter-no one calls me boy.”

“Mauvin? Fanen?” Shouts came from the direction of the castle.

“Here, Alric-we’re on the other side of the woodpile,” Mauvin shouted back, a touch of regret in his voice.

Alric? Reuben thought. It can’t be. A moment later none other than the Prince of Melengar rounded the pile. He was dressed in a lavish three-quarter-length white satin tunic with extensive embroidery, heavy gold piping, and full sleeves and broad triple-folded cuffs. His suede belt, while lacking even a dagger, was ornamented with metallic studs and a buckle that Reuben guessed to be worth more than he and his father could ever hope to earn if both of them lived to be a hundred.

The squires all dropped to one knee. Reuben followed suit an instant later. Neither of the Pickerings so much as bowed.

“What’s going on?” the prince asked.

Mauvin was frowning at him. “Fanen, Hilfred, and I were about to have some fun … then you ruined it. You always ruin it.”

The prince looked at the kneeling squires, puzzled, until he spotted the drawn swords. “Hilfred?” he asked; then, turning, he made eye contact with Reuben. “Oh, the hero from the Battle of Gateway Bridge!” He looked back at the squires and added, “He risked his life to defend my sister against a band of highwaymen. Don’t tell me this pool of pond scum was thinking of taking advantage of our friend?”

Reuben could hardly believe his ears. The prince had been the third horseman who’d chased the princess?

“We were just leaving, Your Highness,” Ellison said, slipping his sword into its sheath and standing up. He took one step away when the prince stepped in front of him.

“You haven’t answered my question, Ellison.” Alric moved uncomfortably close.

“No, Your Highness, we would never think of harming a friend of yours.”

Alric looked at Reuben. “Is he telling the truth? I can have him ripped apart by dogs, you know. I love dogs. We use them to hunt, but they aren’t allowed to actually take down or eat their quarry. Always thought that was a shame, you know? I think they would appreciate the opportunity. It could be fun too. We could just let these fools run and bet on how far they can get before the dogs catch them.”

“I bet Horace doesn’t make it to the gate,” Mauvin said; then all heads turned to Reuben.

Ellison looked at him, too, his face frozen in a tense, wide-eyed stare.

“I wasn’t aware of any threat from Squire Ellison, Your Highness,” Reuben replied.

“Are you sure?” Alric pressed, and flicked a small yellow leaf off Ellison’s shoulder. “We don’t have to use the dogs.” He smiled and tilted his head toward the Pickerings. “They’d love to teach them a lesson, you know. In a way they’re a lot like hunting dogs-they never get the chance to kill anyone either. Ever since they reached their tenth birthday, no one has been stupid enough to challenge them.”

“I was, Your Highness,” Reuben said.

That got a laugh from the Pickerings and the prince, although Reuben didn’t know why. “Yes, you did, didn’t you?”

“That’s why you’re our friend,” Mauvin explained.

“He didn’t know who we were,” Fanen pointed out. “He had no idea about the skill of a Pickering blade.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” Reuben said. His blood was still up from the fight, and his mouth ran away with him. “If I thought you were there to harm the princess, I would still have fought you.”

A moment of silence followed this and Reuben watched as Alric smiled; then he glanced at Mauvin and they laughed again. “Tell me, Hilfred, how are you at catching frogs?”

“Did you see Ellison-Jellison piss himself when I said I could have dogs tear him apart?” the prince asked as they trotted along the road.

“Ha! Yeah,” Mauvin replied. “Thought he might faint like a girl.”

“Can you really do that?” Fanen asked.

The two brothers were only separated by a year, but they were very different. Fanen kept his hair neat, his thoughts to himself, and when he did speak it was in a soft voice, which was difficult to hear above the clapping of the hooves and the rising wind.

Alric laughed. “Sure, Fanen. I’ll just go to my dad and say, ‘Hey, do you mind if I have Lord Trevail’s son torn apart by dogs?’ ”

Mauvin chuckled as if he alone understood some joke. Although Reuben also thought the boy just enjoyed laughing. He did a lot of it. “What do you think your dad would say?”

Alric shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to be there to find out.”

Alric insisted Reuben accompany them to a swamp for a bit of frog hunting, and there was no refusing the son of the king. Not that he wanted to. Despite the humiliation of the previous day, he found he liked the trio. And after saving him from a severe beating, he was more than happy to join them frog hunting-or even dragon hunting if that had been the prince’s preference. Reuben learned they each had a small collection of frogs at the castle. Mauvin in the lead with eight, but Fanen, with five, had the most diverse assortment. Alric had the least with only four. Being the prince, Alric probably did not like being outdone. He told Ian to fetch their mounts and bring one for his new pal, Hilfred. They all grabbed cloaks, and for the second time in less than a week, Reuben rode out of the city in the presence of royalty.

They traveled north past the King’s Road toward East March. The late afternoon sun dipped low in the west, and farms in the shadows of hills already had their lamps lit. Cows were making the trip back to the barns, and smoke was rising from chimneys as the temperature turned colder. They were a good hour from the city walls, where the farms were thin and the hills forested. When they veered off the road, it was toward what looked to be a good-sized pond surrounded by thickets, forests, and mist. The boys called it Edgar’s Swamp because Edgar the Carpenter had told them about it. The best place in the world to catch frogs, he had declared.

They dismounted and walked their horses the last bit to the water’s edge.

“Isn’t it a bit late to be going all the way out here … ah … Your Highness?” Reuben asked.

“Best time to catch them is right after the sun sets,” Alric replied.

“I’m surprised your father allows you to go all this way at night without an escort.”

The prince chuckled. “He wouldn’t. I had to assure him I had a guard.”

“Who?”

“You.”

“But I’m not a guard yet!”

“Really? That’s strange, because when I told my father that Hilfred had agreed to ride out with us, he was fine with that.”

Reuben was stunned. “He thought you were talking about my father!”

“Really? You think so?” Alric was having a hard time keeping a straight face. “You know … you may be right.”

The three broke out in laughter again and continued to do so even as they tied their reins to a fallen tree on the edge of the pond, giving their horses a chance to drink. “It’s not my fault, you know,” the prince said. “Arista never told us your first name.”

“If my father thinks I was trying to impersonate him, he’ll kill me,” Reuben said.

“It’s not your fault either.” Fanen pulled his frogging sack off the saddle. “You didn’t know.”

“My father doesn’t like the idea of me associating with nobility, period.”

“Why not?”

“He thinks it will get me in trouble.”

“And so it has!” Mauvin shouted, and they all laughed again. “You have a wise father.”

“No sense worrying about it now,” Alric said, throwing his own frogging sack over his shoulder. “We’re here. Let’s get some frogs.”

“What am I to do?” Reuben asked.

Alric shrugged. “Guard us. So don’t forget to bring your sword.”

They laughed again.

The four of them slogged into the tall grass, using fallen logs as bridges and leaping from tufts of grass to rocks as they made their way deep into the misty bog.

“You really are awful at sword fighting,” Mauvin told Reuben. “And is it true what Ellison said? That you’re to be sworn into service tomorrow?”

Reuben nodded.

“So this is the quality of arms at Essendon, is it, Alric?”

“I’ll take it up with Captain Lawrence in the morning,” the prince said so seriously it worried Reuben.

“You’re not really going to, are you, Your Highness?”

Alric looked back at him and rolled his eyes. “We need to keep him around. This guy is hilarious.”

“Oh feathers!” Fanen exclaimed right after Reuben heard a liquid plunk. Glancing back, he saw the boy’s left foot was ankle-deep in water. “Foot slipped,” he said with a grimace.

“You need better balance, Fanen,” Mauvin said. “A mistake like that in battle could get you killed.”

Fanen pulled his foot out and shook it.

“Say, Hilfred.” Mauvin turned to him. “Your father is pretty fair with a blade.”

“My father is excellent,” Reuben corrected. “He’s known to be the best sword in the royal guard next to the lieutenant and the captain.”

“You’re talking to a Pickering, Hilfred,” the prince reminded him. “That’s like speaking to a family of Thoroughbred racehorses and saying your father is the fastest plow horse in the county. Their father”-Alric waved at the brothers-“is the greatest living sword master … anywhere.”

Mauvin ducked a branch. “My father started training all of us before we could even lift a blade. Even my sister Lenare, who I think can still best Fanen, although she no longer thinks sword fighting is ladylike.”

“You don’t have to tell everyone about that, you know,” Fanen said, his left foot making a slopping sound each time he stepped with it.

“Yeah I do-it’s funny.”

“Not so much, no.”

“So, okay, your father is better than my father,” Reuben grumbled.

“That’s not my point at all. I meant it as a compliment … that your father is fair with a blade-”

“That’s a huge compliment coming from him, trust me,” the prince said.

“So what are you getting at?”

“Well”-Mauvin paused a moment as he checked the support of a partially submerged log-“if your father knows how to use a sword, how come you don’t?”

Reuben shrugged. “He’s too busy, I guess.”

“I could teach you.” Mauvin steadied himself by grabbing hold of a fistful of cattails, then jogged up the log to a small patch of grass that formed an island near the center of the pond. “That is assuming you don’t mind learning from someone younger.”

“I’d accept,” the prince said. “When he turned ten, Mauvin bested our Captain Lawrence in a Wintertide exhibition.”

“That was two years ago,” Mauvin reminded him. “Father says I’ll master the first tier of the Tek’chin this month.”

“Nice.”

They each kneeled down, and Fanen lit a small lantern. The sun was well behind the forest now, leaving them in shadow. All around were the chirps and peeps of frogs.

“I see one!” Fanen whispered, pointing toward the water. “Go ahead, Alric.”

“Thanks, Fanen. Most noble of you.”

The prince left his bag and walked carefully with hands out like the claws of an attacking bear. He crept into the pond and in a fast grab scooped at the water, making a great splash. “Got him!”

Alric rushed back, cupping something, his tunic soaked. Fanen held the prince’s bag open for him and Alric deposited his prize. “Now we are even, my friend,” he said to Fanen. “One more and I will pass you. Then I’ll be setting my sights at replacing Mad Mauvin as the Frog King.”

This was obviously some great honor that Reuben had never heard of. Perhaps no one other than the three boys had.

“What kind is it?” Mauvin asked.

“A horned.”

“I have two of them.” Mauvin grinned.

Alric frowned, then turned to Reuben. “Let him teach you to fight-just don’t ever listen to him.”

Reuben sat on the mossy turf surrounded by the forest of cattails and floating lily pads, watching them hunt. He offered to help but was told that was against the rules. Reuben had no idea frog hunting had rules, but apparently it did. Being late in the season, most of the harvests were already in, and snow would be falling soon. But there, in Edgar’s Swamp, the place was alive with sounds-the swish of treetops, the brush of grass, and the deafening chirps and peeps of frogs. The carpenter knew his ponds.

Reuben marveled at his strange turn of fortune. Only a bit over an hour before, he had faced the certainty of a pounding-likely worse. Ellison might not have been kidding about cutting their initials into him. To them he was barely human and not worthy of sympathy. Yet now he was here, safe and surrounded by nobility, catching frogs with the prince of the realm. Just then Reuben was struck by the unique opportunity he had. “Hey, have any of you been to the room at the top of the high tower?”

“The haunted tower?” Alric asked without looking up from the surface of the water where he was stalking another elusive toad.

“Haunted?”

“Sure,” Alric said, creeping through the tufts, trying not to fall. “Nora tells the story every year about this time. I guess because it happened in the late fall.”

“What happened?”

“Nora said it was years ago, before I was born. A girl who used to work in the castle, a chambermaid, jumped to her death. She climbed the tower in just her nightgown. She set a lantern on the window ledge, then jumped. On windy nights you can hear the scream she let out as she fell … and the splat when she landed. They found her body, or what was left of it, on the cobblestones before the main doors.”

“Ewwww.” Fanen looked up from his bag of frogs and grimaced.

“Why’d she do it?”

“She loved a man who didn’t love her back. Just had his baby too. Only the guy said she was lying. She couldn’t keep her job as a chambermaid with a child, didn’t have any family, no way to take care of the baby, so as the legend goes she placed the infant on the father’s bunk, then climbed the tower and jumped to her death. They say her ghost haunts that tower and in the fall, when it’s cold but not yet snowed, she puts her lantern on the window ledge whenever someone in the castle is going to die. They also say that if you go up there when she’s there, she thinks you’re the lover who betrayed her and will push you out of the window to get her revenge.”

“What happened to the baby?”

Mauvin laughed. “It’s just a story.”

“Although a woman did fall from that tower once,” Alric said.

“Who?”

“Nora always called her Rose.”

They got back late because Alric had tied Mauvin’s number of frogs, and the prince wanted to beat his friend. They only gave up after both he and Mauvin fell into the pond while making desperate attempts to catch a rare red-spotted frog. As they were completely soaked, the call of a warm fire was more alluring than the title of Frog King.

Overhead the clouds raced across the face of the full moon as if it were a light underwater and the surface was gliding past. A storm was coming, and as with all storms, Reuben felt uneasy. Guards had been looking for the prince, and the gates were opened before they reached them. Wet, cold, and tired, the three boys left Reuben without a parting good night. They disappeared into the castle keep, leaving Reuben the task of putting all four horses to bed.

The wind shook the boards of the stable and spooked the animals as he pulled the saddles off and brushed them down. Reuben, who had only soaked his feet, was not terribly tired. He was used to harder days than frog hunting. More importantly he wanted to put off seeing his father. Richard Hilfred knew everything that went on at the castle and would have learned of his son going off with the prince and the young Pickering lords. If Reuben came back late enough, his father might be asleep. To this end, Reuben took his time brushing and feeding the horses before stepping back out into the empty courtyard.

The wind had blown out several torches around the ward. The one at the well was out, as were the two near the front doors to the keep. The others were being whipped viciously. A distinct howling could be heard on the wind as it blew between the buildings, kicking up whirlwinds of leaves. The branches of the old oak, now nearly bare, were clacking against each other. The door to the woodshed alternated between creaking and slapping, and the chains on the well’s windlass were jingling as the bucket rocked.

Looking up, Reuben saw it-a light in the top window of the high tower.

He stared. Over the course of the last month, he’d seen a light in that tower twice, and each time someone had died. First old Chancellor Wainwright, then Clare Braga, who died in a horrible fire at the estate the king had just awarded to her husband. Reuben shuddered just thinking about it. Burning must be the worst way to die. Cuts and bruises didn’t bother him, but he touched a hot kettle once and the pain was unbearable for days. His father had slapped him just to stop his complaining.

And then there was that story the prince had told. A chambermaid, a woman named Rose, who had killed herself. Could she be …? According to his father, his mother had died in childbirth. But the prince’s story explained so much, like why his father rarely spoke of his mother and his ill temper around Reuben’s birthday. But he wondered if he just wanted it to be true. Then his mother’s death wouldn’t be his fault and the light might be his mother returning to tell him he was innocent of a crime he had blamed himself for all those years.

Reuben took three steps toward the castle, his neck craned, his eyes focused on the window, wondering if he could catch sight of his mother’s ghostly image. The light flickered as a shape moved between it and the window. Reuben held his breath, waiting, watching as the wind blew his hair.

The light went out.

He continued to stand before the front doors of the castle, looking up, but nothing happened. Did this mean there had been another death? Who could it be? Was it someone in the castle or far away? Having waited for more than two weeks for the light to reappear, now that it had, the moment felt empty. There was no bloodcurdling scream or a body falling to the courtyard. The night was like any other. Then, just as he was about to turn and head for the barracks, a shadow slipped out the window.

If not for the moonlight bathing that side of the tower, and the fact that he was staring, he would not have seen her-a woman in a wind-whipped dress.

Reuben held his breath, staring in shock. Is that her?

The woman’s hands clung to the ledge while her feet felt for a toehold. She found it and dropped carefully to the decorative cornice below. There she cowered.

She set the lantern on the window ledge, then jumped. On windy nights you can hear the scream she let out as she fell … and the splat when she landed.

Reuben heard only the sound of crying.

Who is it and what is she doing? Is this the ghost? Is it my…

Slowly the woman inched around the side of the tower, toward where a small dormer roof extended. Hanging once more, she reached out with her feet and touched the spine of the dormer below and inched down farther. Then she slipped.

Reuben gasped in horror as he watched her fall.

She slid down the side of the peak and with a scream dropped onto the spire of the Winsome Tower. She clawed at the clay tiles as she continued to skid.

Reuben took a step closer as if to help, but there was nothing he could do.

As she reached the edge, her toes caught the lip. The woman lay on her stomach, pressed against the spire, crying in terror.

Reuben stared, one of his hands covering his mouth. He waited to see what she would do next, but the woman didn’t move. She lay there, panting and whimpering.

“There’s a wide balcony beneath you,” Reuben called up, not certain if he was speaking to a woman or a ghost. Her surviving the fall and catching hold of the roofline made her seem more than human. The hard part was done-assuming she wasn’t intent on suicide. Reuben saw how it was possible to make the rest of the trip. He waited, but the woman did not move.

“You’re safe-well, sort of. Just drop and you’ll be okay, as long as you don’t land badly.”

“I can’t!” the woman cried, though most of her voice was stolen by the wind. “I don’t want to die.”

What is she talking about? She just climbed out a tower window!

“Trust me. Just scoot off the roof you are on and lower yourself as best you can. Even if you fall, you’ll be okay. There’s a terrace right below you.”

It took several minutes before he saw her move. She inched down, not daring to look. Her legs dangled, searching for something to support herself but finding only air. The strength of her arms gave out and she fell again, screaming once more.

While not how he would have tried getting down, it worked nonetheless. The drop was longer than it looked from where Reuben stood and she disappeared behind the balcony’s wall. He feared she might have hurt herself until he saw her head appear.

“Are you all right?”

The head nodded.

“Follow the wall to your left. You’ll find stairs.”

She vanished from his view.

A light returned to the tower window and Reuben looked up with anticipation, but no one else came out.

He waited in the courtyard, trying to determine what had just happened. If it was the ghost, why hadn’t she jumped to her death again? Wasn’t that what ghosts did-repeat the past by reliving the moment of their death in eternal torment or something? If she wasn’t the ghost, who was she? And why would anyone climb out of the high tower window if they weren’t intent on suicide?

I don’t want to die.

It didn’t make any sense.

One of the double doors to the keep opened. All he saw was a pale hand at first; then the face of a young woman peeked out.

He had never seen her before. She was about his age, but her face was painted and she wore a dress the likes of which he had never seen. With a tight bodice and a plunging, shoulder-baring neckline, it might not be a dress at all but rather what women wore underneath them. She was still crying. He could see the tears on her face as they glistened and left dark streaks in her makeup.

She shrank from him when he approached. “Please don’t kill me. Please … please…”

“You’re all right. You’re safe. I won’t hurt you.”

She stared at him with frightened eyes, her hands shaking. “I didn’t do anything wrong, I swear.”

“It’s okay. Just tell me what happened. Why did you climb out the window?”

“They would’ve … they would’ve killed me if they discovered I was there. If they knew I heard what they said.”

“Who? What are you talking about?”

The girl’s eyes were locked on the light in the high tower.

“Please,” she pleaded. “You have to hide me. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

The castle was alive with activity. Every window was alight, and guards, roused from their beds, strode across the courtyard to the keep. Reuben ducked back into the woodshed where he had hidden the girl. The shed was his sanctuary, the place he always went to be alone. Although tonight he was uncertain how long his little refuge would be safe. Outside, Reuben heard shouts for the gate to be sealed.

What is going on? They say deaths always come in threes, and the light was in the tower…

Since bringing her there, the girl had sat balled up on the cord of maple he had split the month before. All he could see clearly was a slice of her face illuminated by the moonlight that slipped through the crack of the door. Her cheeks were puffed and wet, her eyes red and glassy.

“Do you hear that? The alarm has been sounded. If you want my help, you have to talk to me. Now tell me what’s going on,” Reuben said.

She nodded and managed to swallow and take a breath. “I came for a party-a surprise party for someone.”

“For who?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

“You were invited to a party, but you don’t know who it was for?”

“I wasn’t invited. I came to work.”

Reuben was confused. That didn’t make sense. The castle had more than enough waitstaff. “What kind of-”

“I was hired to pleasure the guest of honor.”

“Huh?”

The girl gave him a smirk. “How old are you?”

“Almost sixteen, but I don’t see-Oh!” Reuben took a half step back as if the girl were a dangerous animal. “You’re a-”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say. Reuben had spoken to only a few girls. Occasionally he talked about the weather with Alice, the washwoman. She was a little older and never seemed interested in his conversations. And he was certain Grace, who polished the candlesticks and carried water from the well, made a habit of avoiding him. Girls made Reuben uncomfortable, and this one wasn’t just a girl. This was a … He had trouble even thinking it.

“The party was in the tower, but like I said, it was supposed to be a surprise. So I was put in the wardrobe and when they told the guest of honor to look in the closet for his present, I was supposed to jump out. While I was there, two men came in and started talking. I figured any minute the door would be flung open, but they just kept talking. At first I didn’t really listen. I didn’t understand most of what was said anyway, a bunch of stuff about Imperialists and Monarchists and how Melengar would be one of the first.”

“First what?”

“I have no idea. But then I heard one say, ‘After we kill the king, we’ll begin making the changes.’ ”

“Someone said what?” Reuben asked, even though he had heard her just fine.

“He said they were going to kill the royal family. And I couldn’t figure out why they would say something like that with me in the room. Then I realized these two weren’t the ones who had put me in the wardrobe and neither of them knew I was there. When I heard them leave, I knew I had to get away. If either of them came to the party, they’d know I’d overheard what they’d said. I had to get out. I had to disappear.”

“Why didn’t you just come down the stairs?”

“I heard voices outside the door. It might have been them. The only other way out was the window. I thought I could climb down. I thought … but I slipped…” She started to cry again.

“Do you have any idea who they were? Did they use any names?”

She shook her head. “No, I didn’t hear anything like that. Please, I just want to go home.”

“You can’t leave-the gate has been sealed.”

The question was why? Maybe it had already happened. Maybe there had been an assassination. The girl might have been part of it. Looking at her, it seemed impossible, but he never would have thought she’d have climbed out of that window either.

“Something bad has happened,” Reuben told her. “That’s why they’ve rung the alarm. If what you say is true, someone might have just tried to kill the king.”

The girl closed her eyes and shook her head. “They’ll think I was part of it now-because I ran, because I climbed out the window. I wasn’t. I didn’t do anything. You have to believe me.”

“Listen, just try and relax, okay?” Reuben wasn’t sure which of them he was talking to. His heart was still racing from seeing what he had thought was a ghost but what turned out to be a girl-a girl in trouble, one he’d found like a stray dog. He was thankful they had made it to the shed before the alarm was called. The smell of maple wood, like the smells of the stable, were familiar to him. He could think there. “I’ll just go and tell them what happened.”

“No!” She grabbed him. “Don’t, please.”

“But if you’re innocent, you’ll be fine.”

“What if you tell the wrong person?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if you tell one of the men who planned to kill the king? Even if you don’t, if the king is dead and they think I did it … they won’t listen to me. They won’t believe me. I just want to go home.”

He couldn’t let her leave.

Reuben ran a hand through his hair. He needed a better place to keep her, somewhere safe, hidden, and where she couldn’t get away-just in case she was lying.

“Okay, this is what I’ll do. I know another place I can hide you. You’ll stay there and I’ll go see what’s happening. Then I’ll go to my father. He’s a sergeant at arms with the royal guard and it’s his job to protect the royal family. He’ll know what to do. Don’t worry-I won’t let anything happen to you. You just have to trust me.”

“I trust you, I do. You didn’t have to hide me or help me when I was climbing down. But I don’t even know your name.”

“Oh, yeah … sorry. I’m Reuben, Reuben Hilfred. What’s yours?”

“Rose.”

Reuben just stared for a moment. “Really?”

She nodded. “Why?”

“Ah … nothing. It’s just…” He reached out and took her hand. She may have thought it was to comfort her, but Reuben just wanted to make sure she was real. “Rose was my mother’s name.”