18

THE JAGGED SNORING DREW JUNIPER TO THE right stump immediately. She peered into the hollow, and her heart sank: Fleeter was curled up in the identical position in which they’d left him almost two days before.

“Fleeter, my bootstraps!” sniped Cyril. “Snoozer is more like it.”

Juniper reached in and extracted the comatose cat, taking a moment to stroke his stubbly back. Then—because why not check?—she unhooked the clasp of the pouch that hung around the creature’s neck. Her fingers closed on a folded parchment sheet. “Cyril! This isn’t my note. Fleeter must have been and gone already—he’s delivered after all!”

Cyril raised an eyebrow.

“Aren’t you a goodsy little spy cat?” Juniper crooned, tickling the creature behind the ears and doing her best Tippy imitation. The jollity did the trick, wiping the scornful look right off Cyril’s face as he let out a bark of unexpected laughter. Juniper grinned in return. “Let’s see what news our intrepid feline has to share, shall we?”

“How did he come back to settle again in this very stump? I confess I doubted that talk of super smells and such . . .” Cyril trailed off, shrugging like he didn’t much care one way or another. But he was clearly impressed.

What with one thing and another, Cyril was becoming scarcely recognizable of late.

In the next moment, all thoughts of Cyril fled Juniper’s mind, as she pushed the paper’s edges apart and tumbled into the familiar, beloved world of the Basin.

Dear Juniper,

A lot has happened since the last time I wrote. First, everyone is well, and work continues at a staggering rate. In preparation for the out-journey, we’ve moved the horses up to the Cavern, and have all the saddles completely packed and ready to load on. This return trip shall come none too soon, I might add, for our food stores are dangerously low. Though Paul of the Garden informs us that pea shoots are peeping out (you see what I did there?), and we enjoyed our first official crop today: spiced radishes! Not everyone celebrates this peppery vegetable, but the freshness can’t be beat. Root has also been having some success with his hunting—dwarf rabbits and quail thus far, but he has an eye out for bigger game, and we all (hungrily) hope for the best.

But what am I going on about? I have neglected the biggest news of all: We’ve had a wing from the palace! As Jess predicted, her sister, Egg, did indeed receive our message and has sent a brief note to state this fact. The missive had little news other than word of her safety and confirmation of the palace’s takeover and the capture of her father, as well as yours. We are heavy of heart, yet take comfort in knowing for certain how things stand. We have sent back a reply and await more news.

I will keep you abreast as we learn more.

Something else is odd around here: The river’s gone hot on us. That’s strange, isn’t it? I’ve been digging through my books to try and figure out the reason, and how I perish for want of all the study resources back at the palace! I know there’s something I’m overlooking, for there’s a familiarity to this that niggles but doesn’t quite land. At any rate, we’re unable to use the swimming hole at the waterfall—it’s gone beyond warmth to a jolly unsettling hot. The stream is still tolerable—quite pleasant, actually, and most soothing on the feet with all those knobby stones to tread. Hopefully the temperature will rise no higher. I daresay this gathering heat has something to do with all the infernal sunstone herearound, but I’m dashed if I know what.

You can bet I have my thinking hat on and will report as soon as I have further news.

Till then, I remain,
Your faithful friend (and chief adviser),

Erick Dufrayne

Juniper released her fingers, and the parchment snapped shut. How she wished that she could just hitch up her skirts and fly-leap across the mountain chasm to land on that nearby peak! Queen’s Basin was not far at all—just across this break in the mountain range. In fact, if Erick’s book was to be believed, the Hourglass Mountains all shared a common spine that linked them right up from their cores. How quickly she could be home, with her friends. She could make it in hours, she knew, or even less.

“Juniper?”

She shook herself as Cyril’s voice brought her back to reality.

The Trials. The Anju. The third test.

“It’s not like they aren’t vastly better off without you there, you know,” he went on, only this time the dripping scorn was as fake as snow in summer. “Do yourself a favor and let them toddle on their own a bit more. Your little country will still be there when you’re done knocking off this Anju task.”

Juniper could have hugged him. She didn’t, of course—that would just have been weird—but she refolded the parchment into a tight flat square and tucked it inside her waist pouch. She pried another sheet from the back of her journal, though it pained her to see the dwindling pages, and set down a few words about the latest in the Trials and what was still to come.

If all goes well, she wrote, I shall complete the last task with the same success we have met thus far. But one way or another, all shall be resolved by the second sunrise from this one. Then we shall know what is in store for my future, and with it, the future of all Torr. One way or another, we must ready ourselves to head back in defense of the palace—and the king.

Juniper looked up. Cyril had leaned in to read over her shoulder. She frowned and swatted at his face, but he just ducked and moved to a different angle and kept reading. She scowled.

I have determined that I cannot allow myself to fail in this task. We need this army, and I have seen nothing here thus far that I cannot overcome. For your part there, it is time now to gather everyone together, complete any final packing tasks, and make ready the provisions for our journey.

Torr Palace must be reclaimed. My father, and all the other captives, must be rescued.

Upon my return, we move out.

With luck, we shall have the Anju army at our back when we do so.

• • •

The walk back to the Anju camp was a quiet one. Juniper felt weighed down by all she’d spelled out in her letter. Why did it all feel so much realer, the burden somehow heavier, once she’d put her desires and intents into words? She recalled a memory of her mother pulling her aside after a particularly odious lecture from her Comportment Master, who had spoken at length about how young ladies must be seen and not heard.

Spoken words hold power, her mother had said, putting a hand on each of Juniper’s little shoulders. To say it is to believe it, and belief is the magic that makes anything possible. Don’t ever let anyone tell you what you can or cannot do. Speak your dreams aloud, then go and make them happen.

To this day, Juniper sometimes fought a nagging sense that assertiveness was not fully ladylike. And yet, was not confidence the spine of leadership? Self-belief didn’t take any more energy than self-doubt, and it was a good deal more comfortable to live with.

She could not make herself win, but she could certainly walk a winner’s walk.

As they left the clearing, the ground shivered slightly under their feet.

Cyril looked up. “Did you feel that? Where’s it coming from?”

The shaking of the ground was no stronger than when they’d exploded the sweetcrystal mine, but Juniper couldn’t tell where this rumbling originated.

“It’s not coming from Torr,” she whispered, squinting off into the horizon. The late afternoon sky was clear; there were no flashes or distant smoke like they had seen several weeks before, when Monsia had first invaded.

That didn’t mean the enemy wasn’t out there, though, scheming and plotting and moving ahead with their dastardly plans.

The ground shook again. Juniper looked sideways at Cyril, her thoughts still on Torr. “How could you do it?” she asked him. “Betray your country like that? You knew the attack on the palace was going to happen, and you never said a word. Helped them, even. Or your father did, anyway, which is much the same.”

He bit his lip. “It’s not that easy, is it? You’ve got your father and your country all on the same side, nice and tidy. It’s easy to be loyal then, isn’t it? Plain and simple. But split them up, put them on two opposite sides . . .” He shook his head. “Who gets your loyalty now? And what wouldn’t you do for someone you love, when it comes right down to it?”

They walked back to the camp in silence.