The King emerged from the library, paperwork in hand, eyebrows furrowed.
"Well, what is it, what is it?" he said crossly. "Can you not let me work for five minutes at a time?"
The girls burst into angry cries. Kale let out another piercing shriek.
"Him-him-him-" said Delphinium, pointing a shaking finger at Mr. Hyette, who laughed still. "He-he-him!"
"He-he-he was spying on us!"
"And we weren't even wearing our boots!"
"Or even our stockings!"
Thunpfwhap. The King threw Mr. Hyette up against the paneling. My Hyette's head slammed against the wainscot.
Kale stopped midscream, hiccupped, and giggled.
"Mr. Hyeete!" said the King.
Mr. Hyette struggled against the King's steel grip.
"Ow," he said. "I say, ow!"
The King yanked Mr. Hyette from the wall and grabbed him by the scruff of his fluffy cravat. He handled Mr. Hyette out the entrance hall doors, slamming them behind him. Outside, gravel scuffled.
"I say," said Bramble, in an impeccable impersonation of Mr. Hyette. "I say, I say! I say-this Royal Business could actually be quite a lot of fun!
Keeper!"
He inhaled slowly, took Azalea's outstretched hand-shudders went through her throat, he felt so solid-and pressed the brooch into her marked palm.
"I was only picking it up," he said, quietly. His thumb rubbed the red nail mark on her hand. A smile crossed his lips. "Temper, temper.
Five minutes later, the girls stood at the open kitchen door, blinking in the brilliant overcast light. The smell of lilacs, roses, sweet peas, and honeysuckle mixed with the scent of crisp late summer leaves. None of them had been in the gradens for nine months, and the bright saturated greens, reds, and violets overwhelmed them. It reminded Azalea of Mother, beautiful and bright, thick with scents and excitement. And the King-he was like the palace behind them, all straights and grays, stiff and symmetrical and orderly.
"It's really allowed?" said Flora, her eyes alight at the colors.
"Allowed allowed?" said Goldenrod.
"For the last time," said the King, pushing them gently out the kitchen door and onto the path. "It is Royal Business! Go On. Get some color in your cheeks.
He is writing a book," said the King, following them out into the sunny, crisp gardens. "About the gardens here. We have two of his books already. Library, north side, O. What say you, Miss Azalea? Does he pass that list of your sisters'?"
Azalea cocked her head. Was the king actually teasing her?
"He'll have to shave," she said, deciding to take his lead.
"And what," said the King, stroking his own close-trimmed beard, "is wrong with whiskers?"
Azalea laughed, surprised at the King's uncharacteristic funning.
And," said the Keeper, his eyes cold. "You are never to refuse me another dance again.
Heather Dixon WallworkWhat did your mother do?" he said.
"Sir?"
"When it was time for bed," said the King. "Tell me."
The girls exchanged nervous glances. He was talking about Mother.
"She used to help the girls with their prayers," said Azalea, hesitant. "And-sometimes she would read stories."
The King set the sword on the table, next to the vase.
"Very well," he said as the girls whispered to one another. "I will read you a story."
The whispering stopped.
You once said you had studied at the university," said Eve shyly. "What did you stufy, please?"
Azalea blushed. It was all right for the girls to interrogate normal gentlemen, but this was the one she wanted to keep.
"Ah," said Mr. Bradford, coloring as well. "Politics, actually. Some philosophy, and sciences. But...mostly politics, I'm afraid.
What happened?" said Clover, wetting a cloth in the basin, and dabbing Azalea's face.
"She had a sort of fit," said the King. "I think her underthings may be laced too tightly."
All the girls, including Azalea, blushed brilliantly.
"Sir," said Eve. "You're not suppose to know about the U word!"
"Am I not? Forgive me.
The simultaneous scream sounded from teh twins. Borth clasped their hands over their mouths, their eyes wide with horror. Azalea followed their gaze.
There, in patches of light, scratched-up Fairweller held a weeping clover in his arms, cradling her head against his shoulder. He murmured into her ear.
Delphinium screamed.
"Oh, Clover, how could you?" said Eve.
"Is he a good kisser?" said Hollyhock.
The King had no words as he strode to them. In an instant he had torn Fairweller away from Clover, wound up, and boxed Fairweller straight in the face.
Fairweller stumbled backward and fell to the floor, glass crunching beneath him.
"You may fill out your resignation paperwork tomorrow," said the King. "ExPrime Minister Fairweller!
When I saw you at the graveyard, looking so white, I knew something was wrong. I knew it."
Azalea stared at him, the fire flickering highlights in his eyes.
"So...I thought I should do something," he finished lamely.
"You saw everything?"
Mr. Bradford gave a half of a crooked smile. "I did knock."
"You didn't see Mr...Mr.-"
"Mr. Keeper?" Mr. Bradford spat the name. "Oh yes, I saw Mr. Keeper. Rather hard not to. I saw him try to kiss you. Or what he said was a kiss. I want to snap his head off!"
Azalea had her hand over her mouth, shocked that someone as solemn and dignified as Mr. Bradford could have such venom. He took her hands, gently, and pushed up her sleeved, revealing her swollen wrists. His fringers traced the bruises.
"You stopped him," said Azalea. She bowed her head, shy. "You kept him from-from-"
"Ah, yes, my lady!" Mr. Bradford smiled a crooked smile in full. "His ponytail was simply begging to be yanked.
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