Timothy could believe it. From the scowl on Thorn’s face, he could just imagine the kind of tongue-lashing she’d be capable of giving out. Especially if she knew that Linden had brought a human into the Oak…
Meanwhile, the stairs kept spiraling upward. Timothy had played football so often back in Uganda, and even since he’d come to Greenhill, that his leg muscles were in pretty good shape; but as the two of them climbed through turn after turn, the gentle burn in his calves grew to a fiery ache. He was just about to beg Linden to stop and give him a chance to rest when she stepped up onto another landing, and he realized they’d reached the top at last.
An intricately carved archway stood in front of them, hung with red curtains as soft as velvet. This is more like it, thought Timothy, limping after Linden as they passed through into a paneled corridor gently lit by brass lamps. A bit more like a high-class hotel than faeryland, but at least some thought had gone into decorating it-even if all the furnishings looked at least a hundred years old and the draperies were worn through in several places.
They were almost at the end of the corridor when a voice spoke up primly from behind them:
“Her Majesty is not to be disturbed.”
Linden made a startled noise and spun around, putting herself between the newcomer and Timothy. She pushed him back into the shadows, her invisibility spell prickling over him again.
“But Bluebell,” she said as the other faery advanced, “I have to talk to her right now. It’s important.”
Bluebell swept up to them, her long skirts almost brushing the floor. The last time Timothy had seen a dress like that was in a museum. “There were two of you here a moment ago,” said the other faery suspiciously. “And what is that smell? Have you been with the humans again?”
“The Queen will want to see me,” Linden insisted. “I know she will. Just ask Valerian.”
Bluebell gave a disdainful sniff. “I find it hard to believe that the judgment of a mere Healer should matter more than the word of Her Majesty’s own personal attendant. I tell you, the Queen is resting. If the message you have for her is so important, then you can deliver it to me.”
“So you can repeat it to Mallow?” retorted Linden with a fierceness that surprised Timothy. “No, I will not. What I have to say is for Her Majesty’s ears alone, and if you won’t show me in, then I’ll just have to announce myself.” And with that she reached out and rapped on the nearest door.
Bluebell gasped. “How dare you! You impudent-” But the door opened almost immediately, revealing a tall, gray-robed faery with brown hair hanging loose about her shoulders.
“I am very sorry,” she said, lowering her somber gaze upon them. “But I fear that you have come too late.”
She stepped back, holding the door open. Inside, Timothy saw a splendidly furnished bedchamber, complete with a four-poster fit for a dying Queen to lie in-but now the covers lay smooth on both sides, with a hollow ridge down the middle, and the pillows by the headboard were empty.
“You mean…” whispered Linden, and the tall faery put a hand on her shoulder.
“I’m afraid so, child. Queen Amaryllis is dead.”
Eight
Linden felt frozen all over, numb with shock and grief. She had pinned all her hopes on this meeting with the Queen, trusting that once Amaryllis heard their story, all would be well. She would forgive Linden for running off to the city, she would welcome Timothy to the Oak, and they could all sit down and discuss what to do next. But instead Amaryllis had died, never knowing where Linden had gone and why, or even whether she was still alive.
Bluebell pushed past her and stumbled into the chamber, sobbing. “Oh, my lady,” she wept as she dropped to her knees beside the empty bed. “What will we do without you?”
“We will mourn her, and honor her memory,” said Valerian. “And then we will go on, as she would have wished us to do. Linden?”
The low pulse in her temples reminded her that Timothy was still by her side, invisible, uncertain, waiting. There was a stone in her throat and a bruising ache deep in her chest, but Linden knew her duty. She pulled herself up, brushing at her wet cheeks, and said, “Yes, Your Majesty?”
“What?” Bluebell whirled on them, eyes hollow with rage. “You speak treason, girl! I am the Queen now-I, by right of seventy years’ service!”
“Indeed, you served Amaryllis faithfully,” said Valerian, “and you will be well rewarded for it. But as this testament written and signed by the Queen’s own hand will prove”-she reached into the dressing table and drew out a sealed parchment-“she did not choose you as her successor. She chose me.”
“Lies!” sputtered Bluebell. “The notion is absurd! Who are you to rule over the rest of us? You know nothing about matters of state!”
“Nor do you,” Valerian reminded her gently. “For all the fine clothes she gave you, Bluebell, you were Amaryllis’s servant, not her councillor.”
Bluebell pinched her lips together. “I knew nothing good could come of you being here,” she said. “Whispering in Her Majesty’s ear, poisoning her against me. Conspiring with your human-loving friends ”-she spat out the phrase as though it were blasphemy-“to put yourself on the throne. But we’ll see about that!” She flounced out the door again, adding over her shoulder, “You’re not Queen yet!”
Valerian remained silent until they heard the distant sound of Bluebell’s door slamming shut. Then she said, “Well. That was unfortunate.”
“You were right.” Linden bit her lip in distress. “What you told me before, about not being able to trust her…but she never used to be like that. What’s gotten into her?”
“This is Mallow’s work, I fear,” said Valerian. “Bluebell is vain and easily flattered-and just as easily controlled. But let that be, for now.” She took Linden by the shoulders. “Where have you been? Knife came to us yesterday, half mad with worry for you, and then we heard that the boy had disappeared as well-”
Timothy gave a little cough at that, and Linden colored. She shut the door, then turned back to Valerian and said apologetically, “I know. Because I went with him, and now…”
She concentrated, and the ache in her head eased a little as the invisibility glamour dissolved. Timothy stood awkwardly on the carpet in his muddy shoes, his hands in his pockets and the backpack sagging off one shoulder.
“Er, hello,” he said.
Valerian stared at him a moment, then turned on Linden. “What in the name of the Great Gardener possessed you?” she demanded. “To reveal our secrets to-” Then she stopped and took a deep breath, as though recollecting herself. “But no, I speak too soon. You came to tell the Queen something of great importance, and it would be folly to judge you before hearing what you have to say. Very well, go on.”
Relief spread through Linden. She would miss Queen Amaryllis terribly, but with someone as wise as Valerian taking her place, perhaps things wouldn’t be so bad. “It’s a long story,” she said. “Perhaps we should call some of the others to hear it, too?”
“I don’t want to be rude,” whispered Timothy in Linden’s ear, “but is there anything to eat around here? I’m starving.”
They were sitting at the table in the late Queen’s study, waiting for Valerian to return from summoning three other faeries-the Council, she’d called them-to hear their story.
“I’m hungry, too,” murmured Linden, and then in a louder voice as Valerian came back in, “Val-I mean, Your Majesty, do you think we might have something to eat?”
“Periwinkle is bringing refreshments, I believe,” said Valerian, sitting down at the end of the table. And sure enough, it was only a short time before the door opened again and a little red-haired faery bustled in with a tray almost as big as herself.
“Thorn and Campion are on their way,” she said breathlessly as she set it down. Then her eyes fell on Linden and Timothy, and she clapped both hands to her mouth with a little squeak. “Oh! But you’re-I mean he’s-”