MY GUARDS RAN into the arena.
In a high, shocked voice, Prince Peter cried, “I’ve been stabbed!”
He’d stabbed himself! Squire Jerrold wouldn’t have knifed him, and my hands had been where everyone could see them.
I rushed toward Prince Peter, who would faint if he kept losing blood. Princess Eleanor’s scarf would stanch the flow.
Two guards caught my elbows. The other two pointed their swords at me. Several contestants held Squire Jerrold, though he’d been standing still.
The physician bent over a moaning Prince Peter, pulled off his own ruffled cravat, and pressed it into the wound.
Princess Eleanor rushed down from the balcony and headed, not to Prince Peter but to me, halting just beyond the guards.
King Imbert descended too. “How bad is it, Titus?”
“Bloody, not deep,” Sir Titus said. “He’ll be fine in an hour.”
“It’s agony!”
“Hush, my boy,” the king said. “You’re making me ashamed.”
Prince Peter groaned.
“Sire,” Princess Eleanor cried, “Mistress Evie would never hurt anyone.”
“I don’t know about that. She didn’t wield the rapier, but the two of them”—the king gestured at Squire Jerrold—“almost certainly conspired.” He picked up the rapier and went to Squire Jerrold. “This is yours, I think.”
Trunk let out a howl of despair.
This was the time, or past the time. I said, “If you execute him—”
“Prison is enough, Sire,” Prince Peter moaned.
“Assassination,” King Imbert said, “even when it fails, warrants execution. And no trial is called for, since hundreds—”
No! “Sire, if you execute him, you’ll execute your son.”
Silence.
Squire Jerrold stared at me.
“This is absurd. I have no son.” King Imbert told a guard, “Run him through first and then the ogre.”
I was glad Wormy wasn’t here to see me die.
“Majesty!” Eleanor cried. “Don’t!”
One of the swords that had been pointed at me now turned toward Squire Jerrold.
There was only one way. “Squire Jerrold—” Could I say it? Would Lucinda let the words come out?
The guard pulled back his sword elbow.
Nothing stopped me. “Propose to me! Ask me to marry you.”
Surprise stopped the guard’s sword.
King Imbert held up his hand. “I’m curious.”
The guard waited but didn’t lower his sword.
I didn’t love Squire Jerrold.
He loved Mistress Daria, but he trusted me. “Mistress Evie, will you marry me?”
“Yes.” Thought departed. The ground seemed to fall away.
I heard gasps.
I choked on stench. If I no longer stank, my clothes, which now hung on me, still did. I managed to keep my last meal from rising, but I had never felt so stuffed.
“Mistress Evie!” Princess Eleanor threw herself into my human arms.
I heard a satisfied sigh, even a musical sigh, which could come from only one source. There was the fairy, standing between Squire Jerrold and me, beaming.
I heard “Harrumph!” in Mandy’s voice.
“Mistress Evie?” Squire Jerrold said. “Is that you?”
“I love a romantic, happy ending!” Lucinda cried.
“She was human all along?” King Imbert’s face reddened and his chest heaved.
I feared for his heart. Sir Titus went to him.
“I’m all right.” The king glared at the fairy. “You did this to her?”
Lucinda, don’t make him an ogre or a squirrel!
The fairy seemed not to notice the accusing tone. “She found her true love! Because of me! I adore creating joy!”
The king turned to me. “What’s this about him”—he waved an arm at Squire Jerrold—“being my son?”
“My father was a magistrate,” Squire Jerrold said. “I’m not your—”
“His grandfather is Lord Niall, now calling himself—”
“The master is a lord?” Trunk cried.
“You’re a fairy.” The king turned to Lucinda. “Is this young man my son?”
Lucinda’s eyes flicked away for a second. “Yes, he is. He is your son.” She clapped again. “This grows better and better.” She clasped my hands, and I was afraid to pull them away. “You’re a princess!”
“I’m your son?”
The guards released Squire—Prince Jerrold.
“You’re not my son if you—” He faced Lucinda again. “Can you tell me if he stabbed the crown . . .” He looked around.
Prince Peter no longer lay on the ground. He wasn’t in the crowd around the arena, in the stands, or on the balcony. King Imbert dispatched the guards, who took off at a run, two toward the castle, two toward the drawbridge.
The king turned back to Lucinda. “Did my son stab anyone?”
Her eyes became unfocused again. “Certainly not!” She frowned. “How odd. A young man stabbed himself.”
King Imbert embraced his son. “My child.” Tears coursed down his cheeks. “My own child. My daughter.” He reached to embrace me, then thought better of it.
I was about to be an ogre again. “Prince Jerrold, thank you for the honor of your proposal, but on further thought, I don’t want to marry you.”
Lucinda sputtered, “Why not?”
“Squire Jerrold loves Mistress Daria, and she loves him.”
“Then why did you ask this one?” Lucinda asked him and pointed at me.
“Because I knew she would help me.”
“No matter.” Again, Lucinda seemed to do nothing, but the ground tilted, and I had returned to ogre form. “Soon . . .” She thought a moment. “Oh. Today. You’ll be an ogre forever. It’s out of my hands.”
“She loves Master Warwick,” Princess Eleanor said.
“The first one?”
“But he’s vowed never to marry,” I said.
“Because of you. You ruined his life.” Lucinda vanished.
Had I?
King Imbert declared, “Mistress Evie, you must stay in Frell. I command it. You are under my protection and my son’s after me.”
Mother could come and live with me. That would be a great thing. “Sir Titus?” I said. “How is Master Warwick? Is he very ill?”
“No, not very. He is in distress. He may make himself sicker.”
I ran into the castle.
“Follow her!” Prince Jerrold shouted. “Don’t let anyone interfere with her, by order of . . . me!”
As the castle clock struck three, I raced through the entrance. Up the marble stairs. Now patients would come to me. If Wormy stayed in Frell, I could heal him until death parted us.
But he wasn’t in the apothecary. The chamber was empty except for a young woman, who sat in the rocking chair, sobbing into her hands.
I had no time for her troubles, though I sensed a lake of sadness and an abyss of horror. “Have you seen Wor—Master Warwick, the young man who—”
She looked up and turned out to be dainty Mistress Chloris, her face brick red, tears streaming. “He . . .” But she couldn’t continue. She swallowed, gulped, tried again, gave up, and sobbed harder than before.
I honeyed my voice. “There’s comfort in a sympathetic ear.” Both her sadness and her horror shrank a bit. I went on, promising relief.
Finally she was able to speak. “My Wicky was so sweet—”
She had her own pet name for him? Her Wicky?
“—and shy. I thought he’d never find the courage to propose.” She tilted up her chin. “And I can be brave, so I did it.” The tears started again.
He’d turned her down. Good! But where was he? “Yes, that was brave—” I heard footsteps in the corridor. They’d ruin my zEEning. “Wait!” I rushed out and waved back a crowd that included Lady Eleanor, Prince Jerrold, Mandy, the king, contestants, guards. “Halt! No farther.”
As I rushed into the kitchen again, I heard Prince Jerrold echo my command. Once inside, I said in my sweetened voice, “Go on. Your Wicky just wasn’t ready.” And never would be.
She nodded. “That’s what I think.” She swallowed hard. “But now it’s too late.” Her sobs broke out anew, and I sensed a surge in the horror. “The fairy—”
Lucinda! Fear for Wormy made me almost unable to zEEn. “You can tell me.”
She tried, opened her mouth, closed it, tried again. A vein in her forehead throbbed.
If Lucinda had turned him into an ogre, people would have seen him, and he’d be easy to find—so what had she done? I raced out to the corridor. Mandy would know.
Mandy must have whispered it to Lady Eleanor, who tried to tell me. “He’s—” Her mouth worked. Her expression was tragic. She gave up. “I’ll show you.” She pushed through the crowd and ran back to the grand staircase.
I followed. Outside, in the outer ward, she pointed at the only tree that grew there, a tall spruce.
Lucinda had turned him into a tree? I’d happily propose to a tree! But how would it say yes? And the spruce had been there before.
Lady Eleanor held out her hands about nine inches apart from each other.
Oh! Wormy was a squirrel.
He must be terrified.
How would I find him?