Chapter 13
ELAINA
I hurry back to my rooms but Tanzy isn’t there yet. I suppose that’s because it’s still early. She usually comes in to help me get dressed and to do my hair a little before breakfast time.
I wait around and soon enough the door opens—but it isn’t Tanzy. It’s another maid, one I’ve never seen before.
She drops me a little half-curtsy.
“If it please you, my Lady, I’m Bridget. I’m here to help you dress and do your hair.”
“That’s, er, very kind of you, but I have a maid,” I say. “Unless she’s sick? Her name is Tanzy—do you know where she is?”
The girl’s eyes widen.
“Oh, didn’t no one tell you, my Lady? I’m afraid she’s in the dungeon until her trial.”
“Her trial?” I say blankly. “What on earth is she on trial, for?”
“Why, for stealing the Queen’s ruby necklace, of course!” Bridget exclaims. “The Crown Prince saw her do it!”
“He did not!” I blurt, before I think. How could Dorian pin his crime on such an innocent, kind-hearted, loyal soul? Tanzy has never been anything but good to me—I can’t believe he decided she would make the perfect culprit for his theft.
“Oh yes, he did!” Bridget nods vigorously. “The Queen noticed it missing this morning and he said he saw her sneaking out of the royal rooms with something cupped in her hand. It must be the ruby pendant.”
I’m beginning to wonder if Dorian chose my personal maid as his target on purpose—to get back at me. After all, he’s the most likely culprit for the burrs under my saddle. Maybe he’s still trying to punish me for seeing him with Henri.
Well, he’s not going to get away with it!
“I have to go,” I say. “I can’t let them do this to Tanzy—she never took anything!”
I turn to leave the room…and realize I’m still in my night clothes.
“You’d best let me help you get dressed before you go out anywhere, my Princess,” Bridget says helpfully. “And if you’re wanting to speak on Tanzy’s behalf—which is mighty good of you—you’ll need to hurry to make it to her trial, which is being held in the Queen’s private parlor.”
“They’re really going to put her on trial?” I shake my head. “I can’t believe this place!”
“It’s the way things are done here at the Citadel,” Bridget says gravely. “And if you have something to say for her, you’d best be sure you have proof. Elseways, she’ll lose a hand for stealing from the Queen.”
“Lose a hand?” I can’t believe the barbarity!
“Better than losing your head,” Bridget says simply. “Here—let’s get you dressed.”
She puts me into a flowing moss green dress with long sleeves which looks good with my skin color and does my hair quickly, putting it up in a simple chignon.
The Court fashion is to twist one’s hair through a thin metal frame to make a towering structure decorated with flowers and baubles.
However, the round base of the frame which rests on the top of your head gives me a headache and I feel ridiculous with my hair three feet above my head.
So I’ve been wearing it down or in more simple fashions.
I’m sure my Mother-in-law doesn’t approve of me flouting Court couture but I’m not willing to have a metal frame digging into my skull for hours at a time, just to make her happy.
I’m quickly ready to go and I rush down the corridor to the Queen’s private parlor, only to find half the Court has already crowded into it.
Standing on tiptoes, I try to see above the mass of Nobles blocking the doorway. The Queen is sitting on a padded bench in the front of the room and standing before her are the Crown Prince and Tanzy. My poor maid has red-rimmed eyes and her pale cheeks are streaked with tears.
“Please, Your Majesty,” she’s saying in a trembling voice. “I didn’t take anything from your rooms! I never would!”
“She did—I saw her!” Prince Dorian looks down his nose at Tanzy, as though she’s less than dirt. “She was hiding it in her palm but I saw the gleam of the Queen’s ruby. The only question is if she’s already sold it or not.”
“I’ve heard all I need to hear!” the Queen declares. “Executioner, do you have the block? You’ll need to take this maid’s hand.”
A grim-faced man with a gray beard dressed all in black comes forward. He has a small but heavy chopping block with him as well as a hatchet with a heavy head and a wickedly sharp blade. It gleams in the light of the crystal chandelier overhead.
I’ve been trying to push my way in through the crowd all this time, but no one wants to let me through. As I see the guards on either side of Tanzy force her to put her arm on the block, I’m afraid I won’t get there in time!
“Stop!” I shout, raising my voice as loudly as I can. “Stop now—stop this!”
Everyone looks around and people make faces of surprise and disgust. It’s rude to shout in public and even worse to raise your voice around the Queen. But at this point I don’t care about Court manners—I just want to keep Tanzy safe.
“Get out of the way—let me through!” I exclaim. I’m done being polite—I’m elbowing my way through the crowd, many of whom look at me like I’m some kind of dirty peasant trying to pick their pockets.
The Queen looks annoyed, but she holds up a hand to the executioner, who has his hatchet poised above Tanzy’s trembling hand.
“What do you mean by this?” she demands, as I reach the front of the crowd. “How dare you interrupt a public punishment?”
“Your Majesty, this isn’t right,” I say in a low voice. “Tanzy didn’t have anything to do with your pendant going missing.”
“Oh, and I suppose you know who did?” Her eyebrows raise and she gives me a skeptical look.
“Yes, I do. And I’ll be pleased to tell you—but in private,” I say. I have a feeling that things will go more smoothly without half the Court watching.
But the Queen likes an audience. She glares at me.
“Speak your piece now, Princess Elaina, or else not at all. In this Court, we make certain thieves get what’s coming to them.”
All right, so she’s leaving me no choice. What I’m about to say isn’t going to make me very popular, but then again, I’m already universally disliked so I might as well go ahead.
“Tanzy didn’t take your pendant—the Crown Prince did,” I say.
There’s a gasp from the gathered Nobles and Prince Dorian glares at me.
“She’s lying, Mother!” he exclaims. “She’s been spreading rumors about me, too—she’s horrid!”
The Queen gives me a cold stare.
“Can you prove these allegations?” she demands. “What reason would my son have for stealing from me?”
“I heard him say it was because you cut off his allowance.” I don’t add that the reason she cut it off is because he won’t bed me. Some things should be kept private. “He said he was going to put it in his private jewelry box and no one would find it because he’s got the only key.”
“You nasty little spying bitch!” Dorian snarls at me, his lovely face contorting into an ugly mask of rage and hate. “Mother, she’s lying!”
“I’m not lying,” I say, keeping my eyes on the Queen and refusing to engage with my angry husband. “Go get the Crown Prince’s jewelry box and search it—you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”
The Queen’s lips have tightened to a thin line and those two little dents have appeared on either side of her flaring nostrils.
“Enough!” she shouts, causing the Nobles—who have been whispering behind their hands—to go silent immediately. When everyone is quiet she announces, “This trial is over. You are all dismissed.”
“What? But Elaina’s lying!” Dorian whines. “And her little pet maid is a thief! Cut her hand off! Do it, Mother—I demand that you punish them both!”
“Not now, Dorian.” The Queen speaks through gritted teeth. She nods at Tanzy. “Go on, leave at once, girl.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty!” Tanzy bobs a curtsy and then looks at me.
Her face is filled with relief and silent gratitude.
I make a motion to her to hurry and leave—who knows how long the Queen’s clemency will last?
She’d better be gone in case my Mother-in-law decides to change her Royal mind.
She slips through the crowd, making her way to the door and out to freedom.
I start to go too, but the Queen shakes her head.
“No—you stay. And you as well,” she adds, looking at Dorian sternly. He hangs back, a sullen look on his perfect features. The Royal Executioner stays as well.
The guards herd the Nobles—who are as reluctant to leave a fresh source of gossip as a flock of vultures would be to leave a stinking pile of carrion—out into the broad stone corridor.
They shut the door to the Queen’s private parlor at last, leaving just the Queen, Dorian, a few of her private guards, and me behind.
At a word from the Queen, the Executioner stays also, though he withdraws into the corner of the room.
“Now then—before anyone says anything, let’s see the truth of this matter. Guards!” the Queen calls. One of her private guards rushes forward and she whispers in his ear. He nods and hurries off.
A moment later he returns bearing an elaborately carved box made of fragrant balsam wood. He kneels beside the Queen and offers it to her.
“Just hold it for me,” she snaps. Then she turns to the Crown Prince. “Key,” she barks, holding out her hand.
“No.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his gold silk waistcoat bunching up with the gesture.
“Dorian, give me the key or I’ll have the Executioner open the box with his hatchet!” She speaks in a low, tense voice.
“Fine!”
With swift, angry gestures, the Crown Prince yanks a long golden chain from around his neck. Hanging from it is a tiny, jeweled key. He starts to open the box himself, but the Queen shakes her head.
“No, give me the key. I won’t ask again.”
He flings the key at her feet—a gesture I’m sure would have gotten anyone else beheaded. But she only frowns at him as she motions and the guard picks up the key. He fits it to the lock and opens the jewelry box, which begins to play a soft, tinkling melody.
There are plenty of fabulous jewels in the box and by the way the Queen’s mouth gets even tighter, I can tell that some of them are hers. And sure enough, lying right on top of the pile, is her favorite ruby pendant.
She picks silently through the box, taking the pendant along with some other pieces. She hands the lot to a different guard with murmured instructions to take them to her rooms and something else I can’t hear. Then she nods coolly at Prince Dorian.
“You are dismissed. Go back to your rooms and think about what you’ve done.”
With an angry glare, he flounces off, slamming the parlor door behind him.
I turn to go as well thinking that surely this incident must be over, but the Queen calls me back.
“Princess Elaina, come here,” she says and points to the spot in front of her. “Let’s have a little conversation.”
I come reluctantly back. I have a feeling this can’t be good.
As it turns out, I’m right.