Entwined(80)

Hollyhock jumped about with such fervor that she paid little attention to where her leaps took her, and laughing, she whumpfed, hard, against the sword’s case.

Everything happened slowly, as though underwater. The entire case fell in an arc and smashed against the floor.

Glass exploded. Someone cried out. The sword skittered across the floor and came to a rest beneath one of the forbidden sofas. A sick, panicked feeling erupted throughout Azalea. Her mind shrieked. She fled to the sofa, knelt, and grasped for the sword.

Though dented, pockmarked, and mottled as always, it was unharmed. Azalea nearly fainted with relief. She placed it gently—ever so gently—on the sofa. After making certain Hollyhock wasn’t cut or bruised, she sent Flora and Goldenrod for the broom, and made the youngest girls sit on the sofas before they cut themselves. Mr. Bradford was beside himself, apologizing profusely while picking up the larger pieces. Flora and Goldenrod arrived minutes later, to everyone’s chagrin, with the King.

“He followed us,” said Flora in a tiny voice.

“It fell by itself,” squeaked Hollyhock. “It really did.”

The King sucked in his cheeks at the display of smashed glass, overturned pedestal, and frightened girls. Azalea didn’t give him time to lecture but scooped up the sword from the chair.

“Sir,” she said, taking it to him. “It could have broken. Will you take it to the silversmith? Right now? It must be mended. Please.”

The King frowned at her pleading face.

“It is a blizzard out, Miss Azalea.”

“Tomorrow then. As soon as possible. Please.”

Perhaps softened by her concern, or her pale, pinched face, the King agreed, at Azalea’s insistence, to take it first thing in the morning. He helped them clean up the broken glass, lecturing all the while to the younger ones about how they would have to mend their own stockings to pay for such an expensive repair, and at the same time taking care that none of them stepped near the glass. Azalea swept up the pieces, deep in her own broken, troubled thoughts.



The knock sounded again that night.

Azalea was leaning against the mantel, feeling ill, while Ivy and Kale pestered her to tie their slippers, when the tentative, polite knock came. Goldenrod opened the door and, once again, showed the girls. No one was there. Azalea’s eyes narrowed as the trembly feeling of something awry flickered underneath her skin.

“I don’t like this,” said Hollyhock. “It gives me the shivershakes.”

Azalea went out into the hall, looking up and down an empty corridor. The odd sensation stayed with her. She swallowed a panicky feeling. Was Keeper growing stronger? Could he conjure magic outside of the pavilion now? Was it from the sword’s fall earlier?

“I think you should all stay here tonight,” said Azalea. “This feels too odd. Let’s stay here. We already danced today, anyway.”

Everyone protested loudly at this. Gritting her teeth, Azalea clenched the lamp in her hand as they descended into the silver forest. Each silver-encrusted step she took made the feeling increase, and dread filled her at the thought of seeing Keeper again. It did not help that the girls were jumpy. Jessamine clung to Azalea’s skirts and whispered in a crystalline voice, “Someone’s here. I think someone is here!”

“Jess, will you shut up!” Bramble seethed, clutching Lily with shaking hands.

Hollyhock, at the end of the line, gave a shrill yelp.

“Someone stepped on my shawl!” she cried.

She dove into the center of girls, leaving the shawl strewn across the silver path. It was Clover’s and much too large for Hollyhock, who had been dragging it, leaving a trail of silver sparkles. Azalea pushed her way to the back.

“Nonsense,” she said, holding up a trembling lamp. The silver leaves glittered. “I’ll bet you just caught it on something. These branches, see?”

Azalea knelt on the path and brushed pine needles from the knit shawl. Shaking it and sending a puff of silver dust from it, she folded it, stood quickly—

And hit her head against something hard and solid.

“Ow!” she stammered.

“Oh, forgi—”

The man’s voice cut abruptly. Azalea blanched at the empty mist. No one was there! Behind her, the girls’ eyes grew as wide as tea saucers.

“It’s a ghost!” squeaked Flora.

The girls screamed. They clutched their skirts in both hands and kick footed it to the bridge.

Azalea was faster. She rounded them off at the arc of the bridge, grasping the handrail and blocking them.

“Go back,” she said. “Don’t you see? Keeper’s trying to scare us. I’ve had enough. We need to go back. Now.”

The girls stared at her, both frightened and sad. Jessamine’s bright blue eyes, Hollyhock’s muddy green, Eve’s dark blue, all of them blinking.

“But,” said Ivy, “we only have tomorrow left.”

“We never should have come here in the first place. It was stupid.”

“Calm down, Az,” said Bramble, shifting Lily in her arms. “We don’t like Keeper either, but why stop dancing? You don’t have to be a bully about it.”

Azalea’s fingers gripped the cold, sleek railings.

“Is there a problem?”

Keeper’s smooth voice sounded behind her. He leaned against the arched doorway, arms crossed, cloak dripping over his shoulders. He looked roguishly amused.