Entwined(76)

“Azalea—” The King’s voice sounded distant.

Everything fell black.

When Azalea came to, her head throbbed and she had to blink for her vision to clear. She lay on the sofa by the piano, and stared up at the underside of the mezzanine. The King knelt next to her. His eyebrows were furrowed.

Another face, equally concerned, solemn, and gentle stood over her. It had cinnamon-bread eyes.

“Oh,” Azalea moaned, reliving her last memory. “I didn’t faint?”

“You did,” said the King.

Azalea groaned.

“Mr. Pudding is fetching a bit of bread. You’ve been skipping too many meals of late; it’s very out of order, young lady.” The King pulled a blanket close to her chin, and the smell of fresh linen and pine encased her. She realized the blanket was actually Mr. Bradford’s dark, thick-weaved coat.

Humiliation tangled in her stomach, and Azalea tried to sit up. The King pushed her back down with a firm hand.

“Don’t get up, young lady.”

“Mr. Bradford,” said Azalea. “What are you doing here?”

“Captain Bradford wished to try his hand at the riddle,” said the King. “I told him no, of course. It is the holiday, after all.”

“Some other time, naturally,” Mr. Bradford said.

Hearing his mellow voice sent ripples through Azalea’s chest. Mr. Bradford’s face was etched with worry.

“You fell just before I came in,” he said. “I’ll leave straightaway, as soon as you have a little more color.”

Azalea pressed her cheek into the brocade of the sofa arm and wanted to curl into a ball. Betrayal, delight, and despair all passed in turn at seeing Mr. Bradford’s warm, solemn eyes. She didn’t know why he even wanted to see her, but she did know he hadn’t close family to spend Christmas with. Sympathy took over.

“Why not?” she said to the King, as he adjusted the coat at her feet. “Why can’t he stay? He lent me his coat—and—his watch—and…please. He hasn’t any family to stay with for Christmas.”

Possibly the King thought she was rambling. He folded up the collar of the coat so it covered her chin.

“Well, Captain,” he said finally. “It seems Princess Azalea should have you as our Christmas guest. Are you still willing?”

Mr. Bradford bowed.

“Hmm,” said the King. “You are lucky we are both in a generous humor today.”



Azalea slept through dinner on the hard library sofa, and awoke to eleven eager sisters flocking about her, pushing and poking her awake. They pulled her up to the room while shoving pieces of dinner roll at her mouth. Azalea felt groggy, but better. Slippers were tied, hair brushed and pinned in preparation for dancing that night. In spite of Azalea staring listlessly at her slippers, the girls were a chatter of excitement.

“You’ll never guess who’s here, Az,” said Bramble as Clover brushed through Azalea’s auburn tresses.

“Mr. Bradford.”

Bramble dropped the pins she held.

“He’s come to try the riddle,” said Azalea, getting it over with. “I asked the King to let him; he hasn’t any family to go to for Christmas. I couldn’t turn him out.”

“You invited him to stay?” Bramble’s eyes narrowed, and her grin became terribly devious, like a fox among chickens. “For Christmas? Well, well, we-ee-elll!”

Azalea braced herself for the Merciless Teasing.

“Mmm,” said Delphinium as the girls took poufs around Azalea. “Sturdy and tall. Such a long nose. But those eyes—pow!”

“Aye, you’ll have childlets with brown eyes. The brown usually wins out, you know.”

“Oh, honestly!” said Azalea.

A soft knock sounded on the door, interrupting them. It wasn’t the pointed knock of Mrs. Graybe or the King’s firm, hard knock. Azalea couldn’t place it. Goldenrod, nearest the door, opened it a crack and peered out.

“No one’s there,” she said. She pulled the door open wide, letting in gust of air, to show the girls.

Tiny shivers crawled up Azalea’s arms.

“I feel so odd,” said Jessamine. Her glass-spun voice resonated with all of them. Azalea stood.

“Let’s get this over with,” she said.

The unsettling feeling followed them through the magic passage and into the silver forest. They huddled together, jittery. Azalea clutched at the lamp. It shook as she led them through the silver, and shook harder when Keeper bowed them in. His eyes met Azalea’s before he backed away into the mist, and Azalea had to set the lamp down before she dropped it.

Even though they had missed the last two days, no one felt much like dancing. Azalea held Jessamine, who was still frightened, on her lap. Bramble pushed a smile or two, but remained on one of the pavilion sofas, pensive. Delphinium didn’t want to bother teaching the younger girls, and Eve wasn’t bossy enough to do it, either. The twins didn’t know enough to teach. Clover was left to teach Hollyhock, Ivy, and Kale while everyone looked on.

“Try it again,” she said in her honey-sweet voice as they gave awkward curtsys. “Mother—Mother used to say, it takes a thousand steps to make the perfect curtsy.”

Kale’s tiny eyebrows knit.