Entwined(19)

In a puff of soot, Azalea found herself sitting in the hearth, and the silver bit skittering away like mad. Azalea grabbed at it and was rewarded with a very sharp, very familiar bite.

“You!” Azalea seethed, leaping up. Now she recognized the half-hopping half-skitter motion. The sugar teeth! Azalea sprang and laid a heavy foot on the teeth. They struggled beneath her bare foot like a mouse in a trap.

Still in the hearth, soot streaking her nightgown, Azalea grasped the sugar teeth tightly, so they wouldn’t nip her, and examined them. They had been dented and were now black with soot. Azalea wondered what they were doing about, wandering the palace on their own. Normally they wouldn’t leave sight of the rest of the magic tea set in the kitchen, clanking against the cream bowl and flicking sugar cubes at anyone who happened to pass by. Come to think of it, Azalea hadn’t seen that tea set for several months, at least. She leaned against the fireplace brick wall, wondering where it had gone.

And then she pulled away from the fireplace wall, because the brick her shoulder had leaned against was curiously uneven. Forgetting the sugar teeth—which hopped out of her hand and skittered away—she traced her fingers over the etching. It was hardly visible in the dim light, and covered in soot. In fact, because of the shape of the mantel, unless one actually stood in the fireplace, one wouldn’t see it.

Azalea’s heart pounded against her nightgown. She brushed the soot away from the brick. Her fingers shook. The form of the etching grew discernible—a half-moon D, with three lines slashed through the middle.

A magic passage!





CHAPTER 7




Azalea stared at the wall. Her heart beat in her ears.

A magic passage! In their room! She tried to remember everything Lord Bradford had said about passages, those months ago. The King used them as storage rooms now, yes, but, well, magic was magic! Azalea wondered how large this room was. If it didn’t have too many trunks or boxes about the sides, could it possibly be large enough to—

Azalea curled her toes in the soot, aching to leap in the air.

How had Lord Bradford said to open it? Rubbing silver on it. Well, that was fortunate! Azalea cast her eyes about for the silver teeth and found them sitting at the edge of the rug.

“Come along,” she said, in her nicest whisper. “I won’t hurt you.”

The sugar teeth skittered away.

“You rotten little—” Azalea started to go after them, pulling Mother’s handkerchief from her pocket to protect herself from the bite—and then stopped.

The silver glimmer of the handkerchief always caught her off guard. A light tingling sensation washed over her, and Azalea held up the piece of silver fabric, smiling. The King had given this to Mother years ago, embroidered with her initials and the color of the royal family. Though the fibers were soft and pliable, like linen, it was made of actual silver thread.

Stepping back into the hearth, Azalea touched the handkerchief to the DE mark. She paused, wholly unsure of what it would do. Even so, excitement tickled her fingers. She rubbed the handkerchief against the brick.

At first, nothing happened. Azalea’s arm grew tired. Half a minute of rubbing, and just as she was about to give up, the mark grew warm. Then hot, then it burned through the handkerchief to her fingers. Azalea pulled away sharply.

The DE symbol glowed silver. Azalea gasped. The mortar around the bricks began to shine, spreading the molten silver light to the other bricks, so bright that Azalea shielded her eyes. The silver seeped across the wall to form a tall arch edged with glowing swirls and leaves.

The light burst.

It took several moments for Azalea to be able to see again. When she could, her breath was stolen. The fireplace wall had transformed to an arched doorway, edges glowing with ivied curls and leaves. A thin curtain of silver sheen billowed gently in the archway, gossamer drapery in a slight breeze.

A tink tink tappety startled Azalea, and she found the soot-covered sugar teeth at her feet. They leaped up and tugged on the hem of her skirt.

“Shh, go away,” Azalea whispered, casting a glance at her sisters’ beds.

The teeth dropped to the ground, the metal squeaking. It almost sounded like a whimper.

“Oh, now you want to come?” said Azalea.

The teeth hopped around madly.

“Oh…very well. But you have to behave.” Azalea scooped them up into her pocket, and hesitated. She knew that all she would find was, perhaps, old furniture and books, but…still. Casting a glance back at the beds, and seeing the bedsheets stirring, Azalea threw hesitations aside, took a deep breath, and stepped into the glowing, glimmering silver.

It felt as though she had stepped into a silver waterfall, ice cold, washing over her head and shoulders. An inside-of-a-teapot smell suffocated her. Another step, and Azalea inhaled a breath of fresh air. Shivering, she shook away the tendrils of twinkling light and rubbed her arms.

She stood on a small wooden landing, about the size of the fireplace. In front of her, stairs curved downward. Azalea swallowed, pressed her hand against the brick wall, and began to descend. The rickety wood creaked underneath her bare feet, and darkness enveloped her. Her hands shook as she felt her way about. She wished she had brought the lamp.

A hard, scuffing sound shattered the silence. Azalea cried out.

“Stop, stop, stop,” came a voice from above her. “Really, Az, you’re as bad as Kale!”